I was lucky enough to be invited to a screening on Monday, and was absolutely gripped the whole way through. Rachel Lee, the ringleader of the Bling Ring, and Nick Prugo, her best friend, met at a school for troubled teens. These two kids, who lived pretty privileged lifestyles in Los Angeles, started small. Inside the unlocked doors of Audis and Ferraris were wallets full of cash and credit cards.
Prugo and Lee would go out and spend anything they found, buying designer clothes, expensive shoes and luxury handbags. Before long, Lee was walking into unlocked houses and taking whatever caught her eye. She would sit beside Prugo, flicking through magazines, and they would chatter fanatically about what their favourite stars were wearing. Their interest in celebrities began to blossom into full-blown obsession, sick fascination.
Victims were targeted due to their being considered fashion icons by members of the group. They found the houses of their targets using Google Maps and website celebrityaddressaerial. Who would leave a lot of money lying around? Wikipedia In a world where celebrities are worshipped like gods, piercing their hallowed chambers must be the ultimate high. The members of the Bling Ring wanted to live the celebrity lifestyle.
They too wanted to be famous for being famous — and before long, they were. They spent their nights in Hollywood, partying in stolen dresses and shoes.
They posed with huge stacks of cash for their Facebook profile pictures. One member of the clique, Alexis Neiers , had her own reality television show at the time she was arrested Pretty Wild.
Leslie Mann is hilarious, a dead ringer for Andrea Arlington see: Kirsten Dunst and Paris Hilton appear as themselves. But there are also teenage girls playing with guns and smoking heroin. Sofia does such a beautiful job of hinting at the darkness of Hollywood, something I am fascinated by. Onscreen, carefree blondes crank M. But you empathise with them, too, in some weird way. In that moment, you understand their yearning for a life of glamour and trouble-free days, something they imagine money and possessions will grant them.
Growing up in New Zealand — and before the advent of celebrity gossip blogs — I was shrouded the from madness of celebrity culture, and I am so glad. I feel like it gave me more of a chance to think for myself, and determine my own values. These days, I think I was lucky to be raised on a teeny tiny island.
I am morbidly fascinated by the effect of celebrity worship on our culture, and especially the way teenagers look to reality television stars and party girls for inspiration and guidance.
Add to this the way the media talks about celebrities: To people who read tabloids, celebrities are not real people, they are blank canvases on which to project all our bullshit.
But of course, superstars are just as real as you and me. You only have to read the grand jury testimonies of the victims — Lindsay Lohan, Rachel Bilson and Paris Hilton among them — to realise that having their homes burglarised and personal belongings ransacked was a traumatic event, the same as it is for anyone who has their home invaded. I keep hoping that our culture has reached saturation point with people who are famous for being famous, whose sum offering to the world is a sex tape, a reality show, and an aptitude for applying lip gloss.
When we start to buy into what we see on television, we get into trouble. Our rational mind is constantly fighting against advertising which tells us that yes, owning this car will make your life more exciting; wearing this fragrance will mean you never feel lonely again. For making me think about all of these things — as well as keeping me extremely entertained for two hours — I give The Bling Ring 4.
I think you should see it with a friend , and talk about it all the way home. A lifestyle can be a liability,.