SHOPGIRL

Steve Martin makes his personal dysfunctional romantic proclivities the subject of a brittle romantic comedy that affords painfully little romance or humor.

Transferred to the big screen from Martin’s novella of the same name, “Shopgirl” exposes the author’s permanent state of mid-life crisis as he makes a production of seducing a girl some 25 or 30 years his junior just because he can.

Claire Danes drives the film, in a blank role thankfully not played by blank-it-girl Selma Blair (“The Fog”). Mirabelle (Danes) is a self-described “poor judge of character” who does charcoal art in her drab and lonely Los Angeles apartment when she isn’t working a soul-crushing day job as a counter girl in the glove department of Saks Fifth Avenue. Jason Schwartzman plays Mirabelle’s slacker suitor Jeremy who learns the film’s thesis that money changes everything after going on the road with a rock band as an unintended self-help sabbatical.

With some of the worst voice-over narration in recent history Steve Martin escorts the audience through his quirky present-tense romantic vision that allows his character Ray Porter (ostensibly patterned after Martin’s real-life dating habits) to essentially purchase the affection of an easy-pick young woman. Ray is a filthy rich millionaire who jaunts around the globe on his private jet when he isn’t buying Mirabelle Armani dresses and paying off her private debts without her knowledge. We don’t know how many other women Ray is carrying on similar affairs with, but it’s a safe bet that there are a few. Ray is a slime who pays for the privilege.

When Ray sleeps with a former lover in his own age range, he feels impelled to hand Mirabelle a handwritten letter reporting the indiscretion as if, “everything will be alright” because he came clean with her. It’s this kind of ominous conduct that discloses Ray’s psychologically warped view of romance and puts Mirabelle on notice that their relationship is merely a business transaction.

We also get a glimpse into Ray’s world of self-deceit when he describes to his therapist how forthcoming he has supposedly been with Mirabelle about his regard for their relationship as a purely sexual friends-with-benefits liaison. His description sits in stark contrast to the way Mirabelle depicts the couple’s union to her coworker friends, who advise her to try using the word “sweetheart” around Ray.

The point of the movie is that people can be treated like furniture. None of the characters in “Shopgirl” have any political views or serious opinions, or even much imagination to clutter up a sterile process of exchanging affection in a distinctly fruitless atmosphere. The only time the movie shifts gears is when a co-worker (Bridgette Wilson-Sampras) of Mirabelle’s mistakes loosey-goosey Jeremy for the famed Ray Porter and takes him back to her apartment for some toy-assisted sexy time.

“Shopgirl” seems like an assignment from Steve Martin’s therapist for Martin to evaluate himself from the outside. I hope it worked well for him, because it doesn’t do much for the audience.

Rated R. 116 mins.