Meh and the City

Halfway through the new Sex and the City movie, I had to wonder: had I gotten sick of Carrie Bradshaw? Or was I just sick of her “wondering”? Was my nausea based on having spent three hours at the DMV earlier that day, or was it some sort of reaction to the bombardment of brand names?

In all seriousness, I walked out of the theater with a sense of disappointment. The funny thing is, I think every Sex fan was happy to support Carrie when she was with or without Big. Yet, during this film, I just hated how once again, the cornerstone of the plot was based around Big leaving Carrie. AGAIN. Sex and the City shouldn’t feel like a broken record. The tagline of the film is “Get Carried away.” How about “Get trampled on for the 23094823049 time.” I think I would’ve been far happier had they left the series the way it ended: Carrie and Big simply together but not necessarily on the road to marriage. Big told Carrie she’s the one. That should be enough!

Okay okay, so my friends who enjoyed it claim that that the movie is about friendship and not giving up on love. In the abstract, I can agree with those two mottos. I just think that the movie didn’t really successfully convey them. I found myself feeling—for the first time in the entire Sex and the City reign—that Carrie had settled. Sure she has clothes, friends, and an indentured servant—I mean personal assistant--but she can’t seem to see the Big picture. (Crap, now Carrie is making me throw puns left and right!) When does a woman’s pride step in? Big essentially practices emotional domestic violence throughout their relationship, which seemed to stop at the series finale. The movie just awakens the beast again.

The movie also makes men appear to be complete jerks. Or at least the movie makes a point to focus on Big and Steve, the offenders, rather than Harry and Jared, who are loyal and loving. I suppose happiness is boring though, so why not focus on the men who can’t commit?

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy to see the girls together again. My heart swelled to see them sauntering down the streets of New York in pointy shoes and completely ridiculous outfits. But the movie added things that were unnecessary, like the Merecedes Benz and Louis Vuitton product placements. It also took away from the heart and sole (crap another Carrie shoe pun!) of the series, like when the writers literally removed anything off-color but substituting “coloring” for “sex” in one what would otherwise be a wonderful girl talk session.

I think the movie should have ended after the New Year’s even scene. I loved the sight of Carrie coming out of the subway—which she probably hadn’t ridden since 1978—in an outrageous fur coat over her pajamas and wearing stilettos in the snow. Now THAT was Carrie Bradshaw. I want to remember Carrie like that—standing on a street corner getting her bearings in an outfit that I admire but would never wear, enroute to see one of her dear friends. Instead, we are led to believe that women are nothing without their men. And don't even throw in the argument that Samantha is without a man at the end. She's a freak of nature, albeit an awesome freak of nature. So she doesn't count. Perhaps if I had walked out when Carrie arrived at Miranda's on New Year's Eve I wouldn’t be left wondering: where did the movie go wrong?