After a long-term love affair with the four fabulous ladies of HBO’s series, “Sex and the City,” like the rest of female America, I was jumping up and down about the movie from the moment New Line announced they were making it. Quotations, anecdotes, and discussions regarding “Which one of the four are you?” inspired by “Sex and the City” have abounded in many a girl’s life since the show went on the air in 1998 and even after it had its curtain call in 2004.
I couldn’t wait for the film’s release–and was dismayed to realize I’d be out of commission for movie-going for a full 10 days following the “Sex and the City” May 30th movie premier due to conferences I was attending. Gah!
So this week I got back, couldn’t get into my over-full email account, and decided to take the afternoon off and treat myself! I gleefully went to the movie theater for a 12:30 afternoon showing of the 2 1/2 hour event and almost burst into tears when the familiar music poured into the theater. Sigh!
However, barely 1 hour and 15 minutes later, I was back on the sweltering NYC streets again, having–I can’t believe I’m going to say this–walked out halfway through. Mind you: I haven’t left a movie part-way in years. So why did I–a devout fan of the show–actually get up and leave?
From almost moment one I was bored. The commentary, the four women, Carrie and company, the clothes–it all felt tired and stale. Been there, done that, it’s over. The witty banter that used to send me squealing with glee and laughter made me roll my eyes this time around. At one time Carrie Bradshaw’s comment about finding “real estate heaven” upon entering the apartment of her (and Big’s) dreams might have been funny–but for some reason, on the big screen, those one-liners weren’t at all laugh-worthy. In fact, they came across as smug and elitist.
Granted–I admit that the clothing and style had always been one of “Sex and the City”‘s greatest charms. But the movie felt like one big advertisement for couture, and Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte four mannequins on which designers got to drape their latest creations and get their names dropped, clothes shamelessly advertised and idolized in the process! I felt taken for a ride and not a good one.
In other words, ironically, “Sex and the Cit”y lost its luster on the silver screen. It felt like a homage to being rich, an idolization of the Paris Hilton lifestyle and attitude, rather than an homage to female friendship, and a story made especially for all those women who loved the show for so many years.
Oh, and the last thing about why I left: the story. Um, where was it? Carrie and company barely did any acting. They were flat. The story was nonexistent. And I was, to put it simply, bored.
So I did the unthinkable: I walked out. I’d rather swim through the humid New York City air in the middle of the day than be preached at by the god of money and girls who have too much capital to even know what to do with it.