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106 MINUTES | [BOSTON COMMON + FENWAY + FRESH POND + WEST NEWTON + SUBURBS] A soap-opera satire punctuated by mockumentary interviews, Henry Jaglom’s latest pathology of female neurosis puts consumerism under the microscope. The threadbare narrative tracks Holly (Victoria Foyt), the owner of a floundering LA boutique, over Mother’s Day weekend. Already unable to handle her rebellious daughter and her fussy mom, Holly learns that her beau has busted their bank account on a dodgy business deal. In order to raise the back rent to save her shop, she seeks out a loan shark and mobilizes a horde of sybarites. Between Foyt’s nuanced performance and some fine situational comedy, the foundation of a witty send-up is laid; it’s the documentary interstices of women talking about dressing-room mirrors and credit-card bills that distract. Repetitive and fake, these sequences are symptoms of a filmmaker who doesn’t trust his own storytelling enough to let it speak for itself.
BY MATTIAS FREY
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