While there is much to be said about the movie's depiction of quiet desperation, of people going home to empty apartments and waiting for the phone to ring, the movie is also rich commentary on our unspoken class system. Mirabelle has moved from Vermont to Los Angeles with an art degree and nothing to show for it but $39,000 in student loans. She works at the desolate glove counter at Saks Fifth Avenue, watching L.A.'s richest stroll by in pursuit of $10,000 dresses and lucrative marriages.

Then Sir Nouveau Rich strolls into her life, in the form of Martin as businessman Ray Porter. Porter has gotten unspeakably wealthy consulting with Seattle computer gurus, his precise talent so vague that he doesn't even try to explain why people pay him so much.

Enter Jason Schwartzman, from another economic class altogether. He's the intentional grunge, the guy you meet in the laundromat who borrows a quarter for the dryer. Schwartzman's Jeremy has talent and no ambition. He's a pizza box without the pizza.

The movie drags on a bit at nearly two hours, but Martin does have a lot to say. Without smacking us too hard, he offers new observations about the modern male, and how some men are finally adjusting to the bombardment of advice they get about how to "act" around women. Both Ray and Jeremy like sex and like sports, in almost equal measure, but they feel no need to prove themselves to other men, and are in search of their own characters rather than the latest tips from Esquire or Details.

"Shopgirl" makes for a very good book and a very good movie, a combination rare enough to recommend them on that basis alone. Moviegoers should reward the effort of Martin, Danes, Schwartzman and director Anand Tucker to make thoughtful movies for real people.

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