Sex and The City 2

My editor, Osric, says I need to post more content. “Post more content!”, says Osric. I can’t get away from it. He bothers me just about as much as my other co-writer, Gaff. When I’m not being spammed with emails suggesting I review the latest Nanny McPhee flop, I’ve got Gaff pressing the envelope on our dream of having a Hall and Oates cover band. You know what? I’ve never been above hurting myself in an effort to hurt others. You want content? Here it is – like the four vacuous bitches who haunted the subconscious of the late nineties woman, I’m fashionably late with a review of Sex and The City 2! Hold on to your NuvaRings!

We’re back in the big city with Carrie, some frumpy red-haired woman, and two others that I can’t recall. Hold on, let me check IMDB… we’re back in the big city with Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha on the eve of Stanford (Willie Garson) and Anthony’s (Mario Cantone) improbable gay marriage. As Carrie muses to her friends, “Just when you thought everyone you knew was too old to get married, here come the gays!”. Jesus. Christ. What have I gotten myself into…

As in the popular television series and first film, Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) narrates the tale surrounding four 40-something females who have seemingly started to finally settle down. At Stanford and Anthony’s wedding reception and subsequent bed and breakfast with the guests, it becomes quite clear that Carrie is unsure of her newly minted marriage to that guy I’ve seen in other films women enjoy. You know him – he’s got one hell of a jaw. Appropriately enough, she has just completed her novel, “I do. Do I?” as she wrestles with the hardships of choices like going to bed instead of having sex, and endlessly over-thinking the state of her relationship with strong-jaw man. Is the spark still there?! Will it burn out or fade away?! Why is Liza Minnelli performing “Shoulda Put a Ring On It”? Much like the film, logic doesn’t matter. And judging by the success of the previous iterations of Sex and The City, women don’t mind the lack thereof either.

Thus, we have a film composed of a series of ongoing thought processes amongst four women who fear the effect of aging as they subscribe to the same heartless lifestyle that condemns it. A slew of guest stars from John Corbett to Penélope Cruz pepper this inner and outer dialogue as the men play dumb husbands, and the women spin their wheels expecting every moment of their new lives to be riveting. If you’re of the female persuasion, you won’t find any fault in this. After all, emotional exposition with no direction might not be productive, but it’s damn entertaining. This is a film that plays like so many female conversations. It is comprised of quantity over quality. Hah! Just kidding! But before you write me off as a complete misogynist, know this: they make these types of films for guys too. Remember The Road Warrior? It was shit. And I loved it. So let this serve as your guide: men should steer clear of this one. Ladies who already like the series won’t find anything spectacular in this sequel, but it stays true to the original characters.

Damn. I feel like I did the first time I watched Irreversible. I’ve got a hankering for some Applebee’s too. And I have a hunch I’m the only one hurting from this review. I guess I’ve always got my Beaches on Blu Ray for the Shelf Life section to look forward to.