Sex and the City: A Rant
Which concerns the movie.
In the past year, I've watched the movie twice, both times somehow without seeing the last 15-20 minutes and both times, I had issues. Having completionist - is too a word – tendencies, it was obviously necessary for me to rent the movie again to could see the ending, but I’ve resisted until it made it to the cheap section in the video store because I was pretty sure I knew how it would end and I hated it. I've finally gotten to the point where I rented it so I could cross it off my list once and for all. So before we get to my quibbles about the ending, let me pick on some of the other things that didn't work (there will be spoilers):
The length of the movie. 145 minutes. Seriously. That's a lot of bloat. Maybe the whole thing would've worked better if they had cut 30 minutes off it.
Charlotte (Kristin Davis) having no storyline to speak of.
Jennifer Hudson. I feel like I should elaborate, but there's really nothing else to say. Except I wish she’d get some acting lessons before doing another movie.
Samantha (Kim Cattrall) being reduced to a cartoon character, positively slavering over the naked neighbour (of course, Gilles Marini deserves drooling over which we got the chance to do when he was on last season's Dancing with the Stars where he proved himself to be a natural dancer - if you need a break from the rant, see this, this and this). Somewhat redeemed by the end of the movie, but it doesn’t excuse the previous 120 minutes.
The money. There was always an unspoken agreement between the show and the viewers that although we all knew the clothes were out of the reach of most women's bank account, we all pretended that they weren't, that these women somehow found fabulous designer clothes secondhand or on miraculous sales. It helped you feel as if these women could be your friends, made them relatable, their lifestyle attainable. It was suspension of disbelief, allowing you to easily enter their world, connecting through shared experiences and including the fabulous clothes. In the movie, there's no more suspension of disbelief. In the movie, the women are so obviously rich - not just well off, but rich - and it throws up a barrier to connecting. I am no longer watching four women who could be me and my friends, but four very rich women who live on a completely different level from me, a level I can never attain.
Mr. Big having a name. Granted, they chose a good one, a name that fits, but it's somehow not the same when he's not Big, but John. However, this one is a minor quibble, in large part because he returns to being Big at the end..
And now to the major one. The wedding.
And then they went and ruined it with the wedding. The series ends with Carrie and Big clearly set to live happily ever after just the way they are and all of a sudden we have to rewrite it and make it into an old-fashioned fairy tale again. It's contrived, it felt untrue and dishonest and it felt as if whoever wrote the script for the movie had forgotten everything the series was about, creating a standard
And now they're making a sequel. And I hate that I'll probably watch that, too and probably end up writing a rant about it…