I am someone that doesn’t really believe in the whole “it’s a chick flick” or “it’s a guy movie” thing. If a movie has a good story and is told properly it should be able to be enjoyed by both genders. Of course I am not talking about the “damn I broke a nail” girls or the beer can-to-head crushing backwoods males, but for the most part I think most people will love a well told movie no matter the subject matter or target audience. I don’t say this as a preface to telling you Sex and the City is a chick flick and guys will want to run for the hills, but I do say this as I can only see die-hard fans of the franchise (a category made up of mostly females) actually enjoying all 2 hours and 20 minutes of this overblown headache.
Yes, two hours and 20 minutes is the running time on this self-congratulatory love-in. Despite all domestic marketing focusing on Sarah Jessica Parker’s character all four gals get their time in (and out) of the sun (and in again). Samantha (Cattrall) is now living in Los Angeles working as an agent for her boy toy. Miranda (Nixon) is having marriage troubles as her husband slept with someone else. Charlotte (Davis) is as happy as can be. And, Carrie’s (Parker) story is what makes the film go round, as she is set to marry Mr. Big (Chris Noth). The wedding is planned, it’s about to happen, and Big backs out. This is the fast paced 40-minute build up to the story screenwriter/director Michael Patrick King really wanted to tell.
I have only seen one episode of “Sex and the City” but based on perception it looked like it was a show above petty romantic-comedy twists. I was attracted to the fact that it stood above the Southern California dramas that seemed way too farfetched to ever be realistic. I always heard people say, “This is how 35-year-old single women act.” That’s fine, but it looks like once those 35-year-old women hit their 40s the rules go out the window.
The final 100 minutes of Sex and the City move along at such a staggered stop-and-start pace it is impossible to find any interest in anything that is going on. The first 40 minutes would have worked had their only been another 20 to follow, but a whole hour and 20 minutes was just too much time to fill as loose ends needed to be tied up and the script just wouldn’t allow for it to happen soon enough.
Sarah Jessica Parker is just as you would expect; adequate. And Cynthia Nixon ultimately becomes annoying as Miranda becomes the secret holding moron that can’t seem to reach the only logical conclusion that ends up taking her six months to get to.
The highlights of the film are Kim Cattrall, whom I respect for playing a character only a couple years younger than her real age despite Botox injections not allowing for it to show. Cattrall is the cat with the sassy one-liners and the majority of the time they hit home and give you a good laugh. The other bonus is Kristin Davis as Charlotte. Davis has the role of the friend that is always happy. Nothing bad happens to Charlotte and the more you get to know her you can see why. She is a good friend and she even offers up a little bit of defecation humor, which I am sure to please the poo lovers in the audience (another staple of the core fanbase if I understand correctly).
Unfortunately a few highlights aren’t enough to make this film enjoyable, I don’t believe, for any audience and the major reason is its length. This movie should have been sliced down by at least 30 minutes and, as good as she was, Jennifer Hudson’s character was the one that needed to go. After all, the conclusion to her storyline is never even dealt with, and considering everyone else’s story was tied up nicely she at least deserved a little closure.
I can’t imagine anyone, male or female, being overjoyed with this picture. I think die-hard fans are sure to enjoy seeing their favorite characters on the big screen, but I am sure even they would admit this is a flawed effort that could have certainly been tidied up a bit.
