Daisy, Paque, and Stella want. They want to be actresses. They want to be in a band. They want to be models. They want to be famous, damn it. And so, in the three gimmicky sections of We're So Famous — a goofy narrative, a partial screenplay, and letters to members of Bananarama — they each tell their story of forming a girl group, moving to L.A., and flirting with fame. Clarke doesn't hate his antiheroines — though the degree to which he has any insight into women is highly questionable. He just views them as by-products of the culture of celebrity: glitter-eyed, vacant, and cruel. It's nothing we haven't heard a million times before — Los Angeles festers, fame is corrosive, God help the next generation — but, somehow, the satire works, sliding down as silvery and toxic as liquid mercury.
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