Hit, hit, hit.
Posted on 05/31/2008 9:24:57 PM PDT by A_perfect_lady
I’ve just seen Sex and the City and now I’m going to review it. There will be spoilers. If you’re still waiting with baited breath to see this movie (a description that I doubt applies to many Freepers) don’t read any further unless you’ve already guessed that it’s going to be pretty much like a Jane Austen story but with gratuitous sex scenes, designer clothes, and a plethora of clichéd observations about life and love. In other words, a happy ending, and no one dies.
I should say right away, I was expecting someone to die because I’d overheard a rumor a month ago that the movie was going to have a lot of huge surprises, and it might be that someone dies. So through the whole movie I kept waiting for Mr. Big (who is indeed getting portly) to have a heart attack. Alas, he didn’t.
I should also admit I never watched the series. I saw about five minutes of it once, enough to see that Carrie’s needy pursuit of an unavailable man, Mr. Big, was painful and pathetic to watch, and that Samantha was a trollop. Beyond that I knew nothing, and my friend who accompanied me to the movie had to spend the first ten minutes whispering, “That’s Miranda, she’s bitter… that’s Charlotte, she’s the romantic… Oh, Big has put Carrie through a LOT over the years…”
So perhaps I’m in a good position to assess the movie objectively, as I have no attachment to the characters. This, then, is what I noticed.
1) Superflous designer porn: Many of the scenes were completely unnecessary from a plot-development point of view. They were merely excuses to show the women trying on designer clothes.
2) Artsy shots: Most of Sarah Jessica’s entrances start with the camera on her shoes, then panning up her long, shapely legs until finally… (reluctantly?), settling on her face. Now, much has been said about her face, but really, the only thing that bothers me is that monstrous wart on her chin. I was in the second row, so that baby was the size of my fist. I do not know why no one has taken her aside and said, “Do not give me the speech about how imperfections make your face unique. Believe me, your face is already plenty unique. Get rid of that wart before I take an exacto knife and do it myself.”
3) Reality level: The movie seemed very much one long female fantasy. That is to say, in it, at least two female characters who have been dumped, toyed with, used, stood up, and otherwise treated in a very cavalier manner by the man of their dreams, finally have the satisfaction of having that man come back to them and say, “I was a fool; you are The One.” I’m no expert, but I have observed over the years that men usually know their One way early in the game. They don’t have to tie her to the bumper car of life and drag her behind it for a year or ten. I think they abandoned the “He’s Just Not That Into You” writer and decided that they’d write the script so that he IS into her, dammit, he IS. He just needs TIME. He has ISSUES. He’s SCARED. But really, you’re The One. Really. You are. And when the time comes, you won’t need that designer wedding dress. Whatever.
4) Gratuitous sex scenes: most of them were played for comic relief, but they were so graphic I actually looked away. I mean, the usual sex scene consists of some sweaty flesh and sinous movement, but these were more of the “Ooo, watch the vigorous humping, look at those buttock clench” style that frankly makes your average cinema writhe seem graceful in comparison.
5) The characters themselves: Honestly? The women were kind of irritating, at least to me, because I didn’t have any built-in loyalty. Charlotte seemed like a nice enough girl, but the rest, oy. Samantha seemed like an aging trollop who is putting on weight and getting increasingly crass. Miranda is so unpleasant I couldn’t understand why anyone married her. Carrie is just on camera way too much. Here’s Carrie trying on old dresses and modeling them. Here’s Carrie trying on wedding dresses and modeling them. Here’s Carrie flinging her hair. Here’s Carrie dying her hair. Here’s Carrie with feathers in her hair. Here’s Carrie crying. Here’s Carrie laughing. Here’s Carrie sleeping. Here is Carrie’s 100th close up. Here’s Carrie’s wart. It’s coming to get you.
6) The characters, part II: the men were … well … Samantha’s boyfriend seems okay. Charlotte’s husband didn’t abuse his three minutes of screen time. Mr. Big is now a heavy set, middle-aged fellow who always seems about to heave a heavy sigh, rub his face tiredly, and go to sleep. The only character I liked was Miranda’s husband, a man who had my sympathies all the way through no matter what he did.
7) The End: no big surprises, really. Sooner or later everyone makes up, or makes a decision that doesn’t surprise anyone. All the women try on more designer dresses, hug each other, squeal, drink cosmos, talk about love, talk about friendship, and then run around New York in spike heeled shoes, flinging their hair. Oh, wait, there is one big surprise. Someone poops their pants. I won’t say who, but I will say that I seemed to be the only one in the theater who didn’t think this was uproarously funny. All in all, I give it a C-. In a word, trite.
Thanks for the entertaining review. I had no interest in this movie before, and now I know I would never willingly watch it in a million lifetimes, but at least I got to enjoy reading your review of it!!
That’s a wart? Ewww! Kissed too many frogs.
Saw the movie Friday afternoon...I really liked it. It was what I was expecting—weak plot lots of designer clothes and some tears. SJP should have that mole removed and not wear deep red lipstick. The movie was a sumptuous long episode and worthy of my $7.50. I am going to see it again tomorrow with some more girlfriends...this time watching all the outfits and shoes much more closely.
Hit, hit, hit.
You took one for the team. I caught maybe three minutes of this show while going through the channels one day (ultimately, settling on a great episode of Top Gear). I want that three minutes of my life returned to me.
EXCELLENT review. Bravo. You’re a great writer.
Remember when SJP decried welfare reform b/c, according to her, she had family that really needed those foodstamps?
Great review.
The movie seemed very much one long female fantasy. That is to say, in it, at least two female characters who have been dumped, toyed with, used, stood up, and otherwise treated in a very cavalier manner by the man of their dreams, finally have the satisfaction of having that man come back to them and say, “I was a fool; you are The One.” ... I think they abandoned the “He’s Just Not That Into You” writer and decided that they’d write the script so that he IS into her, dammit, he IS. He just needs TIME. He has ISSUES. He’s SCARED. But really, you’re The One. Really. You are.
That is a very insightful point.
I just saw the latest installment in the Indiana Jones series. < WARNING: Plot spoiler.> The ending was a real disappointment, too; Indy and his cohort live.
Actually “plot spoiler” would be something of an overstatement, in that it is premised on a fact not in evidence, specifically, that there is a plot.
Keep them coming.
Your hilarious review almost makes up for the fact that the most depressing series in the history of television has been made into a major motion picture.
So who poops their pants?
Oh yes! The Diane Keaton movie... geez, I don’t even remember the name of it, only that I hated it... HATED it.
I googled and found the answer in seconds.
Click and drag your mouse between the spoiler tags to find the answer.
< SPOILER > Charlotte < / SPOILER >
Yes. If you like high fashion, it's a good movie. Well, it's a fashion show with a storyline. And oh yes, yes... I agree with you... she looks ghastly in red lipstick.
I laughed out loud several times reading this. You should do it for a living.
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