Review: Sex and the City — The Movie
Of the few episodes I have seen of the successful HBO series, I can say with confidence that the televised incarnation of Sex and the City is smarter, funnier, classier and all around more significant than the recently released film version. This wouldn’t be such a problem if that laundry list of positives didn’t apply to pretty much every film I’ve seen in the past year when stacked up against Michael Patrick King’s first foray onto the silver screen. In the end, as with every male-driven action film that comes out around this time, quality isn’t such a concern for the core audience, who have come out in droves to instantly push this rom-com into the black. We’ll get to the ladies who turned out their pockets and bedazzled purses at the box office in a moment, but let’s start with the movie.
The film starts almost like any episode of the show, with a modified title sequence that should a harbinger of shlock to come. Instead of Carrie’s tutu-ed prance about town which ends with her getting splashed with muck, we are put through an awful montage updating us on the shows ups and downs over some terrible popified version of the theme song. Message: this is a fashion show of foolishness you are about to see. Read on…