Confessions of a Shopaholic

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Confessions of a Shopaholic is like watching the stale off cuts of The Devil Wears Prada and Legally Blonde. Harsh to be sure, but this fairyfloss comedy really isn't up to scratch.

All the ingredients were there. 'Our' Isla Fisher is a wonderful comedic actress and Aussie director P.J Hogan has a history of broad, physical comedies with Muriel's Wedding and My Best Friends Wedding. Sophie Kinsella's best selling novels have the story laid out on a platter, and even Kristin Scott Thomas signed up to play a French glamourpuss fashion editor. Great material. Bad, bad, bad execution!

Granted, such light and breezy comedies need to be taken with a similar sensibility (or perhaps a valium). And I'm all for that, if the story isn't all over the place. Confessions of a Shopaholic comes across like a first draft. The pacing is entirely off and the character development is appalling. The prevailing irony is that Rebecca Bloomwood is an inspiring financial journalist despite the reality that she languishes in shopaholic debt. Yet the film fails to give us more than one article to establish this, and the article we see is one fed to her by her boss.

Oh what's the point beating up on this fluff? The fact is, Isla Fisher does manage to carry the film. She's committed, hilarious and her dancing scene had me covering my face in embarrassment.

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It's just a real shame the film doesn't live up to the sum of it's parts. I suggest you go and revisit the far superior The Devil Wears Prada instead.