‘The Bling Ring’ Is Sophia Coppola’s Ode To White Privilege

Nothing busts canons quite like living in interesting times. In our ongoing Inflection Point series, we look back at the films that have taken on new relevance due to our ongoing cultural and political upheaval. Some beloved, some undiscovered, these titles deserve newfound consideration as film criticism evolves to meet the moment.

In 2017, sociologist David Showalter published an essay on the influence of reality television on contemporary politics. Titled “Donald Trump and the Political Aesthetics of Reality Television,” Showalter’s article explored how the popularity of reality television has over the years bent our culture to its will, allowing for a mode of politics that conflates the superficial with the substantive. As Showalter argues, the rise of Donald Trump has ushered in a new era of politics, where the appearance of a thing is as important – if not more important – than its underlying utility.

When it comes to the intersection of sociology and the superficial, few filmmakers have amassed as thorough a body of work as Sofia Coppola. And no film taps into the unique ills of modern society quite as well as 2013’s “The Bling Ring,” Coppola’s semi-historical depiction of a string of infamous celebrity robberies in the Los Angeles suburbs.

Based on a 2010 Vanity Fair article (“The Suspects Wore Louboutins”), “The Bling Ring” follows a group of misfit teenagers as they fall into the perfect series of crimes. On the first day at his new high school, Marc (Israel Broussard) meets Rebecca (Katie Chang), a fellow stylish misfit with a preference for drugs and designer clothes. Almost by accident, the two discover that they can use gossip websites to identify when certain celebrities will be away from their homes. With the help of friends Nicki (Emma Watson) and Sam (Taissa Farmiga), the two learn to climb through windows or unlocked back doors and rifle through the closets of the rich and famous to steal what they want.

In the hands of Coppola, “The Bling Ring” is a study in decadence. Each home featured in the film – including Paris Hilton’s real-life residence – is a testament to wealth and success beyond your average teenager’s wildest dreams. But so too are the home lives of the teenage leads. “The Bling Ring” is not a juxtaposition between the haves and the have-nots; it is between the haves and the want-mores, a group of privileged adolescents who are conditioned by the world around them to believe that they are entitled to riches (and will suffer no adverse consequences as a result of their greed).

Because the film fully indulges each teenage fantasy onscreen, ‘The Bling Ring’ was not particularly well-regarded on its release. Reviews often dinged the film for its flat storytelling – rob, spend, repeat – and its seemingly heavy-handed approach to celebrity. Of course, if the Inflection Point series has taught us anything, it’s that the films condemned as “heavy-handed” are often the ones that age best. When we’re caught in the middle of a thing, it can sometimes be challenging to find our perspective – think “Killing Them Softly” and the 2012 presidential election – without the benefit of time. Those nods to celebrity culture that seemed so apparent in 2013 benefit from a little explanation a half-decade later.

As she does in her other films, Coppola may draw our attention to disaffected youth, but it is her ability to unveil the absurdity of these power systems – often by depicting them as matter-of-factly as possible – that gives “The Bling Ring” its satirical edge. These characters were born into wealth, but there are tiers even above their positions of privilege. This blend of nepotism and naked greed informs the systems these teens occupy, often calling into question the families and audiences that enable their celebrity worship. Is it apathy or ignorance that encourages parents to allow their kids to go clubbing on a school night with would-be industry contacts? How can we separate their actions from the wealth that cocoons them?

These are relevant questions. It’s probably not fair to say that “The Bling Ring” was waiting for the right societal conditions to firm up its bonafides. Coppola’s film has its fair share of defenders, and it appeared on more than its fair share of Best of the Decade lists in late-2019. It is, however, fair to say that current events make it easier to see the threads between late-stage capitalism and the desire of Rebecca and her friends to find validation in greed. More clothing, more jewelry, more drugs; we may have only been able to see the players in 2013, but in 2020, we are all-too-aware of the game.

After all, this is a week where Ivanka Trump made headlines for holding up a can of Goya Foods black beans, an overt ethics violation – as if that matters – and the latest bit of reality show pageantry from the White House. Rather than address the underlying issue, conservatives have made the symbol the substance; they have chosen to wage a culture war on behalf of Goya Foods rather than treat the conditions that could lead countless Americans to boycott the Hispanic-owned business. It is all-too-easy to picture Emily Watson’s Nikki as a huckster socialite, willing to sell the idea of class to anyone foolish enough to believe that the appearance of a thing matters.

And perhaps the most pivotal scene of “The Bling Ring” shows how wealth subtracts, not adds. Halfway through the movie, as the group returns home from a night of clubs, mutual friend Chloe’s (Claire Julien) car is sideswiped. We watch as she and Marc are tossed around the front of the car; moments later, the film cuts to a stone-faced Chloe having her mug shots taken at the local precinct. In many films, this would be a pivotal piece of foreshadowing or character development; for “The Bling Ring,” it’s the set-up to a sardonic joke about wealth and crime.

In the very next scene, Chloe is back at school with her friends, carrying on as if nothing has happened. “My level was off the charts. It was crazy,” she explains. “I have to pick up trash for fucking ever.” Not only is Chloe never made to atone for her actions, but her arrest also does not factor into her inevitable conviction (she receives one of the lightest sentences of the group). In a week where we read about young Black women being sent to jail for failing to finish their homework, Coppola’s film proves that sometimes it is the lightest touch that lingers the most.

In blending the depiction of actual and performative privilege, “The Bling Ring” also helps provide the groundwork for influencer culture. Given how quickly Coppola’s characters turn to Facebook for validation, one could make a compelling argument that “The Bling Ring” is every bit as important a work of fiction as David Fincher’s “The Social Network.” Ultimately, it is these underlying complexities that make Coppola’s film a force to be reckoned with in 2020 and beyond. “The Bling Ring” may not have needed Trump and Instagram to finally recognized for the standout it was, but as the film shows, if the door’s unlocked, you might as well make yourself at home.