WHEN YOU WANT something badly enough and your belief that that something is but a grasp away, then perhaps all signs point to that which is so obsessively desired. So it is with Maureen, (Kristen Stewart) who has persuaded herself and her friends that she’s a medium and who is convinced that her recently dead twin brother is reaching out to her from beyond the grave…scarily.
The scenes of Maureen wandering around in the large, dark lonely house in which her brother died are very, hold-your-breath spooky. Indeed, much of this movie grips one with the iciness of good old-fashioned horror.
Maureen is also a personal shopper for a haughty, bitchy woman, for whom money is no object. She is partly a messenger, ferrying bags of couture from exclusive ateliers in Paris and London to her boss, and partly also the curator to how her boss is seen by the public.
Director Olivier Assayas (“Clouds of Sils Maria” also with Kristin Stewart) offers us these two worlds: one world – the world of fashion obsessiveness- is one of pure external surface. What you see is shimmering glam. It isn’t what’s real. The other world is the invisible, purely internal one. And what you’re allowed to see may perhaps actually be real. Or at least Maureen thinks it is…to the extent that she can’t tell them apart.
The initial signs of what might be her brother’s spirit (whispy zephyrs of smoke and odd noises here and there) seem to harden into a disturbing series of texts that know where she is and that begin to commandeer her actions. Her need to get a sign is so strong that she seems to put her rational, sensible self on hold in the belief that the texts really are coming from ‘the beyond’ and as a result going, alone, to strange hotels at odd hours. This is less about communicating with the dead brother than being haunted by him.
Driven by the need to escape the texts, her personal haunting, and by her penchant for the forbidden, she violates her boss’ restrictions and begins to model her clothes. The sloppily dressed messenger girl morphs into an elegant, sexy ‘other’…as if this ‘other’ is just a disguise she can hide herself in. But these ephemeral surface changes are no barrier to the internal demons that haunt her and that ultimately result in a ghastly murder.
Kristin Stewart dominates the movie – is in every frame. And she’s watchably, seductively engaging. Her acting style works so hard at stripping away any thespian exaggeration that, when it doesn’t come off (as in “Certain Women”) it just feels flat. But here, she absolutely makes watchable what’s really an entirely silly movie.
The movie is atmospheric, often creepy, often best seen through narrowly parted fingers. But it’s a movie that’s just OK and which could actually have been quite good (It certainly isn’t worth all those five star reviews). “Personal Shopper” suffers from a few glaring problems: the characters are woefully underdeveloped, especially one central character who we glimpse only fleetingly, but who turns out (Shazam, gotcha!) into a major catalyst. It’s the “huh? Really?” factor. The idea of an obsession with the spiritual world is gripping. (After all, millions of Christians have intimate conversations with a God who’s ever interested in all their sordid little thoughts and activities). But this world is never presented with any hint of artistic ambiguity. Like any B movie horror, director Assayas offers the world of floating spirits and glasses that levitate at face value. These aren’t Maureen’s fantasies. We’re to take them as real phenomena. Assayas’ big potential revelation at the end (which modesty prevents me from spilling the beans on) is just a cheap cop out. And, the focus on Stewart so dominates the movie that we have to work too hard to salvage scraps of information to piece together the why’s and wherefore’s.
it’s just not worth all that effort.
PERSONAL SHOPPER. Dir (and writer): Oliver Assayas. With: Kristen Stewart, Lars Eidinger. Cinematographer: Yorick Le Saux (“Clouds of Sils Maria”)