Saturday, 12 June 2010

they got a little carried away...


So I bought my ticket for Sex and the City 2 a week before it opened. I kept looking at my ticket poking out of my purse with EXTREME excitement and squealed down the phone to girlfriends many, many times. I feel that due to my enormous girl-crush on Miss Carrie Bradshaw I owe it to her to talk about why I a, didn't cry once during the film, b, didn't come out of the cinema to turn around and go and watch it again.

Before I start talking about the films, I should probably admit that I have the Sex and the City boxset, I watch the episodes over, and over, and over again, and then probably once more. I giggle when Charlotte wonders if her hair is too shiny, and I cry when Carrie holds Miranda's hand during her mothers funeral. The script is funny, the City is stylish, the outfits are enviable and more importantly, you see what real friendship between women is like. I started watching it when I was impressionable and therefore strictly forbidden. I used to go to extreme lengths to record it after I had gone to bed, putting blue tack over the red 'recording' light so it wouldn't shine out in the dark living room, even saying I had to feed the neighbours cat and watching it while I was house sitting. The determination to become obssessed with this programme was there from the start.

Number 2 lost a lot of what was at the heart of the episodes. The producers were completely right to think that the clothes were something which drew women to watch the programme, but the plot was never (or rarely) driven by the outfits. It certainly wasn't dependant on them. Carrie was always really brave with her outfits, but with the audience of a bazilion pairs of eyes scrutinising wrinkles and labels, she was more of a high concentrated mix of glam, and my tastebuds missed that dash of playful giddyness she has in the episodes. Everything, her new apartment (I know they were trying to show a grownup apartment, but it was so gloomy, 'Bunny*'ish and sort of like a museum), her relationship with Big (high maintentance and un-realistic, I'm sorry, but everyone likes watching TV in bed), her wardrobe (already discussed), was mature, and I know the movie was supposed to be a comment on 45+ women, but we could have seen that jump in maturity from the other gals. Carrie had a child-like spirit even in the first film, but in the 3 years between, the writers decided that she had gotten all serious.

It should have been renamed Sex and 'a cheap/remote place for filming where the New York Public won't bother the cast or get drifts of the (very little, slightly mundane) plot'. Saying all that, I did enjoy it, purely because I've put so much time into these characters that I could watch them painting their kitchen cabinets and I'd find it entertaining. I giggled at Charlotte, thought I might squeeze a tear out for Miranda in her touching moment about motherhood, but I missed, missed missed Carrie's leading man, Mr New York. He was completely neglected and if I were him, I'd go cheat on the girls with the cast of Friends or Will and Grace.

Oh and I have NO IDEA what they were doing putting Liza Minelli/Miley Cyrus (currently throwing up) in the film.

PS I do realise the amount of opinion I have about this subjecy is a bit ridiculous/freakish, but we all have our embarrassing little secrets.

PPS. I plan to see it again this week.

* For all of you who don't know who 'Bunny' is (which means you're not someone who watches Sex and the City - why are you reading this post?) she was Trey's (Charlotte's -the dark one- ex husband) Mother. She was old money, upper upper class and owned an estate. To say that Carrie's apartment was 'Bunny'ish' is NOT a compliment.

1 comment:

  1. I think the outfits we wore to the odeon cinema that night were better and more thought out than any of the outfits in the film. I especially liked the part when we walked out of the cinema and felt sorry for the gils with absolutely no clothes on going into Oceana. tragedy.

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