It’s a good thing my religion’s stance on suicide is clear, because 2 minutes into this mess I was ready to Eliot Smith.
Alright, let’s back up…
Last year I talked about how stupid I found the idea of a Sex and the City movie and how I’d eventually have to watch it to make sure I wasn’t being too rough on the thing.
Now that I’ve seen it, I have to admit… I wasn’t rough enough!
What a completely shitty and unnecessary film. It was a whopping two and a half hours long! Watchmen was only two and forty three minutes, and it actually had something to say! So, Sex and the City was nearly three hours long and it took me four hours to watch it because I kept stopping the movie to swearing at the screen and cut myself.
Why was this even a movie at all? The plot could be summed up in a Knock-Knock joke:
Knock-knock. Who’s there? Unappealing Tramps.
Okay, you may want to get your Google machine ready. I’m playing it fast and loose here so I can get though it all-
First, there is Carrie- The ugly one. Her story arc involves wanting to marry Chris Noth, Chris Noth realizing that she is ugly and leaving, Carrie taking the honeymoon trip with the other crones, and then Carrie coming back and marrying the guy anyway. All of this involves some $400 shoes and Carrie hiring Jennefer Hudson as an assistant.
Poor Jennifer Hudson. Her beautiful top heaviness is only matched by her inability to make any of the tired and uninspired jokes about Louis Vuitton sound natural. I’m wondering if that Oscar of hers was given to her less for her acting ability and more for that junk in her trunk. If so, then the Academy HAS been reading my letters!
Whenever Carrie would strain to twist her face into some sort of visage of human emotion, I couldn’t help but imagine Margaret Hamilton in full Wicked Witch make-up trying to make me feel sad for her. It didn’t work. There was also a montage of Carrie trying on incredibly ugly clothing for her friends. I have absolutely no idea how this advanced the plot, but what do I know? I’ve only been writing and watching movies for the last 30 years. I know little about fashion outside of Doc Martens and Ecko Jeans, but does everyone in New York really dress like they’re auditioning for a Grace Jones vampire film?
While watching these “scenes” unfold, I wondered what sort of unimaginative old maid this film was intended to entertain. There wasn’t so much a plot as there were a series of excuses designed for unnecessarily frightening close-ups. Then I remembered that I knew plenty of young, well educated women that saw and enjoyed this movie. I guess I could compare it with my fascination with graphic French gore films. It’s fun to watch situations of confusing horror on screen, whether you understand it or not.
Which brings us to another montage: Carrie tries on wedding dresses. Get this- apparently the designer of one particular dress thought she looked so great in it that he gives it to her! Again, I don’t know anything about designers- let’s say it was Vidal Sassoon. I can only imagine that there was a subplot where Vidal sees Carrie’s face stretching out the time and space around his dress and he says “Oh La-la! The dress, she is tainted no? Let the ugly tranny keep it!” or something to that effect.
Also, call me old fashioned, but I don’t know if a 40 year old battle strumpet should be wearing white to her wedding. I’m just saying.
Now, on to Samantha. Samantha or as I’ll be calling her, the Old One, had a pretty stupid story arc. First of all, ladies, don’t be offended that I call her the old one. It has been documented in this paper many times that I myself am a fan of ladies that are a wee bit older than I. I call Samantha the old one because I’m hoping that she’ll read this and cry. So, the Old One lives in California now. But you wouldn’t know it because every time the scenes shifted, she’d be hobbling towards the camera and the others would act excited and surprised to see her. She’s having some troubles of her own because back home she’s managed to trick some guy into wanting to see her naked. But she can’t be loyal to him when there is another guy next door she’d rather be banging. So, bottom line, she is a slut. Not only this, but the audience is supposed to sympathize with her urge to be a trollop. Some of the hilarious steps she takes to not be a slut are: buying a dog that humps everything. HAHAHAHA! See? Because the dog reminds her of herself!? She eats a lot of cake. ZING! She shops a lot! POW! You can’t stop women from shopping! Finally, she leaves the guy so she can go back to New York, where she always happened to be anyway, and slut it up with the rest of the dogs playing poker that she hangs with.
Miranda, the Skeksis looking redhead, has problems of her own I guess. She won’t bang her husband so he goes out to get it somewhere else. She gets angry and leaves him. After this two hours are spent with the other tramps all wanting to tell her that she should probably go back to him. There are jokes about how she doesn’t shave her “area” (Word! No hating on Seventies style!) And finally, we get to see her topless, which isn’t as bad as it could’ve been.
Finally, the Sort-of-Cute one. I don’t remember her name- but it doesn’t matter! She didn’t do anything. Oh wait, she craps herself. Yup. Women can give me shit about loving The Three Stooges. They can call me out for my love of Judd Apatow. I even had a dame get sniffy with me because I loved Knocked Up. It was “A man’s pregnancy movie” she said, which still makes no sense to me. Whatever. Sex and they City had a cheap, badly executed “Mexican water makes you crap” joke. The ONLY way they could have made this work would have been to actually show it rather than settling for bad crap sfx.
So, bottom line: I have seen Sex and the City, and it has helped me to redefine my levels of Apathy and general Hatred. I find it hard to understand any educated woman that enjoyed this mess, and I need them to tell me why.
Sidenote: Did you know that there are actually tours of New York where ladies ride on a bus to some of the places from the movie and series, then they are taken to a shoe store to purchase a pair of ill fitting and ugly pumps that cost more that a Blu-ray player? Gay.
I’m sorry I ever made fun of Trekkies. At least they have imagination. Speaking of which, my next challenge is to make it through Twilight. May God have mercy on my soul if it makes me eat a box of thumbtacks.