Shopgirl review

Sigh. Poor Mirabelle. There she stands day after day, manning the posh glove counter at Saks Fifth Avenue - about as popular a destination for the store's upscale shoppers as the janitor's closet - and moaning about the glamorous, stimulating life she should be leading, if only someone would discover her for the unique, budding flower she really, truly is... If you're feeling queasy right about now, you definitely shouldn't stop at this counter. Keep moving. King Kong's down the escalator, in the action-adventure department.

Still here? Vaguely interested in the romantic tribulations of a disenchanted twentysomething? Or just a Steve Martin fan? Well, Shopgirl is not without its soft, felty charms. Adapted by Martin from his own novel, it's even got some perceptive and amusing things to say about love and relationships.

Martin-lovers expecting the white-maned funnyman, however, are in for a disappointment. This is not the happy-slappy camera-hogger of his recent Cheaper By The Dozen revival; this is the covetous Martin who's seen Bill Murray rack up choice parts and accolades in recent years and decided he wants some too. Yet he plays commitment-phobe Ray with too much sweet-natured benevolence - generous though he may be, Ray essentially pays Mirabelle to be his consort.

Fortunately, Danes keeps the crasser elements at bay and relishes her love-letter role, along with all the poignant close-ups and vintage costume changes. And she pays it back with an intimate performance invested with emotional longing. But Schwartzman still threatens to steal the movie from her. While Jeremy's narcissistic dopiness doesn't quite feel "real", Schwartzman's comic virtuosity and unkempt, puppy-dog enthusiasm force you into helpless submission.

As a comedy, it strains for laughs. As a drama, it sputters. As a love story, it's weak at the knees. Put all the elements together, though, and there are enough wise, wistful and witty moments to make it worth visiting Shopgirl's counter.