Revisiting ‘Sex and the City’ is like reuniting with some old friends from high school. You know them so well that it’s like no time has passed at all when you finally catch up over a cosmo.
But the latest installment of Sex and the City was a little like hanging out with a high school girlfriend who had just won the lottery and despite having a wonderful marriage, gorgeous kids and a great job, she expects YOU to feel sorry for HER.
Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoyed the movie. I got to see it at the HP and Conde Nast advanced screening on Tuesday night. It’s a fun romp. But something about it didn’t sit right. For the first time since I started watching the HBO series 12 years ago I found myself annoyed with the characters for a variety of reasons.
As the girls travel to Abu Dhabi (on an all expenses paid business trip with Samantha) I couldn’t help but wonder, why is Miranda the only one paying attention to how a person should show respect in an Arab country? It’s easy to laugh at Samantha’s over-sexed antics at first, until she really starts acting like an ugly American, not to mentioned a childish one.
If a girlfriend of mine behaved like her on vacation I would be inclined to give her a smack.
And after more than a decade of dealing with Carrie’s relationship drama, we’re finally ready for her to settle down, take a deep breath and enjoy the wonderful life she now has with Big. All he wants to do is sit in and watch black and white movies with his new wife. Carrie is pouty that they don’t go out to more fun parties.
Big says it best when he explains that he has been hitting the town for 30 years and now he wants to stay in and relax with her. But that’s not good enough for Carrie (I’m starting to think nothing ever will be) and so despite the fact that the couple live in an apartment the size of the first floor of Bergdorf she pouts and whines and eventually runs off to the Middle East with Samantha where she almost ruins the marriage she has worked so long to secure.
And on the career front Carrie is now a very successful writer of books, so successful that her latest tome about marriage is reviewed in the New Yorker magazine. But when that review is less than stellar, out comes Carrie’s pouty face again. No one likes a crappy review, but most writers I know would be delighted that the New Yorker even knows their name.
Charlotte’s problem is more relatable. As a mom of two young girls she is exhausted. And she is a little worried about the sexy and bra-less young nanny her and Harry have moved into their apartment to help them. There is absolutely nothing wrong with having some help to maintain your sanity while raising your children, but I can’t help but wonder if the millions of mothers who struggle to raise kids (usually while working a full-time job) are going to scoff at Charlotte’s twitchy breakdowns.
The women of Sex and the City have always been an aspirational fantasy. They have glamorous jobs and clothes and lives in Manhattan, but they have always been just the right amount of aspirational. Now their glitz, glamour and excess seems very 1999 when viewed through the eyes of a woman in 2010.