Sex and the City: The Movie – Not a Review
Fact: Sex and the City: The Movie is a terrible film.
It’s predictable. It’s un-cinematic. It’s everything we should despise in a TV series’ leap from the boob tube to the silver screen.
That’s what the film person in me says. But damn if the Sex and the City fan in me didn’t enjoy the hell out of the flick.
Sure, I didn’t gasp audibly when Big opened the doors to Carrie’s new closet like 90 percent of the audience. But I took it as a sign that I’m still actually a guy. (Hurray for gender stereotypes!) What I did love, though, is that even after such a deliriously perfect series finale, spending two and a half hours with the girls in their city felt as naturally fun as it ever did.
For anyone who has ever marathoned a TV series season on DVD, Sex and the City: The Movie offers the same experience. There are good episodes here and a couple, well, less good episodes. On the whole, the characters were worth revisiting.
I do think I would have enjoyed the movie a lot more if it were something I could have watched on HBO. I certainly wouldn’t have had to fight the critic in me as much as I did watching it in a theater. Everytime I rolled my eyes, though, I found my cynical side being beaten down by my hopeless romantic side’s Louis Vuitton handbag. In other words, my Charlotte beat my Miranda.
Now I’m going to go and add the series to my Netflix queue–if only to remember a time when HBO made great television shows. (You hear that Tell Me You Love Me?)
Just for kicks. Here’s a link to The Village Voice’s blog on the right’s reaction to SATC.
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