"Hello, my name is Capone."
The Group: "Hi, Capone."
"I'm here today to say that I am, in fact, one of the straight men in the world who has seen every episode of 'Sex and the City' on HBO, and for the most part always enjoyed the experience."
The Group: "Amen." "We hear you." "Keep going." "Be strong."
"I started watching the show for the same reason I watch any new show: curiosity. I have always had a thing for Sarah Jessica Parker, ever since her time on 'Square Pegs.' But I grew to truly appreciate the show for what I thought was solid insight into the minds and hearts of women my age. I felt like I was peeking into a world and overhearing conversations not meant for male ears. It felt slightly dirty (the language alone was worth of price of admission), but more than that, I felt like I was learning something. In addition, I loved getting a peek into the latest trends (real or imagined by the show's creators) in New York clubs and restaurants. I spent a couple years living in NYC in my youth, and I still miss it. I go back as often as I can, and watching 'Sex and the City' made it possible for me to do that a few weeks out of the year."
The Group: "Watch it now, you're slipping back." "Remember the steps."
"No, there's no danger of me slipping, because there's nowhere for me to slip. I watched each episode once and I haven't seen another since, not in reruns on DVD. I wanted to go into the film remembering the series fondly, but not remembering it too well."
I think I can stop the confessional format.
As obvious as it seems, I always liked the character of Carrie Bradshaw (Parker), the best of the four ladies because she was a struggling writer who came to New York looking for love. But it was more than identifying with her that made me like her. She was the only one of the bunch who didn't seem to have some truly deplorable character flaw(s) that made you hate her at times. Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) was too temperamental; Charlotte (Kristen Davis) was too prudish; and Samantha (Kim Cattrall) was so into herself that she never made time to let real emotions enter her life. But it was these same infuriating qualities that made them all-too believable at times.
But the show was never better than when Carrie and her filthy rich soulmate, Mr. Big (Chris Noth), were together, verbally sparring and clearly feeling each other out before taking the plunge, which is exactly what they do in early scenes in SEX AND THE CITY, the movie. They buy a place together and plan to get married. The first half of the movie is good, since it focuses on Carrie and Big (called by his real name, John, about half the time), but there comes a point where Big leaves the picture for a while, and then the movie weirdly becomes about Carrie and her new personal assistant, Louise, played by DREAMGIRLS' Jennifer Hudson. I'm not convinced Hudson is as solid and actress as she is a singer, but the reason Louise isn't in the least bit interesting is that she's given terrible dialogue and almost zero story arc (courtesy of writer-director-show creator Michael Patrick King).
The other stories are less interesting (especially Charlotte's, who apparently has no problem in her life to speak of, and seems to be living the perfect life with her husband and adopted baby girl), although the friction between Miranda and husband Steve (David Eigenberg) at least feels like it's trying. Samantha's troubled life in Los Angeles is almost laughable, and the film desperately drags when Cattrall is on screen. There are a couple of moments of high, relationship-based drama that seem so out of place in this movie (as they would felt on the TV show) that you almost feel embarrassed for the filmmakers for trying to force these serious scenes into what is otherwise a lighthearted effort. I applaud King for not abandoning the show's foul-mouthed way and extraordinary use of nudity (male and female), but even that is not enough to liven the film up from its often-dreary plots.
But of course, SEX AND THE CITY isn't all about Oscar bait (ahem). It's about clothes, shoes, labels and the biggest and greatest closets you've ever seen (I suppose the film could be in the running for a Best Costume award of some sort). Women in the audience audibly gasped when a designer label showed up on screen. And if you're the kind of person who gets woozy at the sight of a Louis Vuitton handbag, then you've probably pre-ordered your tickets to see this movie already. But I don't fault the film for being materialistic; it's always been that way.
No, I fault the film for not teaching me anything new about the minds of successful women or relationships or human behavior or sexuality. With a running time of nearly two-and-a-half hours, you figure you might stumble onto some random useful knowledge. The movie plays more like a second-rate soap opera with people breaking up and getting back together, people getting pregnant and getting dumped. And all of this is happening while each and every character looks fabulous doing it.
I was kind of hoping this film would move me more than it did so I could recommend it wholeheartedly. Instead, the film parades familiar faces before our eyes to invigorate our sense of nostalgia, but fails to earn our respect by not giving us something new and great.
Capone
