I will admit it. I've seen every uncensored HBO episode of Sex and the City.
While the movie franchise was more about fantasy clothing ensembles, the original show had very real relationship aspects that most women (and some men) found universal. (We won't discuss how false Carries income vs. her New York lifestyle was.) There was Mr. Big and his unwillingness to settle with Carrie. He cheated on his "beige" wife for the more colorful Bradshaw. Remember when Berger and Carrie had awkward, quiet sex? Charlotte's first husband was a Momma's boy, whom when it came down to doing the with deed with his sexy wife, he couldn't see women as sexual, thus was unable to "get it up." Miranda had a good guy named Steve, but her feminist lawyer status and his blue-collar mentality clashed. He slept on her couch when they broke up. Miranda got jealous when he wasn't there the next morning, having found a one night stand to help him move on from his relationship. Each woman at one point dated a slew of losers. At times they found themselves with the wrong men.
On to the first movie which left off where the show was ended with Mr. Big chasing down Carrie in Paris--an ending which led me to react with a cynical "Oh God," Big finally sees that Carrie is the one for him. He leaves her at the alter, yet the two still get married. Wouldn't this send most real women into a rage? Wouldn't she finally get the point? On the other hand, the women who dared to dream got the saccharine satisfaction they needed- if he's your true soul mate you will end up together against all odds. The scenario would've been much more realistic, had Big stayed with his wife Natasha and continued to have an affair. He would've fed Carrie lines of insincere bullshit to keep her coming back. But who wants to see that?
As for the second movie, how many of us ladies can't believe we actually sat through that? What a cheese-fest! Samantha's lines were a steady stream of innuendo directed at "the help." The four friends went out on a desert camel ride in Etro, Gucci, Louboutins and Louis Vuitton-- whose kidding? Lets not eve rehash that horrible night in the karaoke bar in which they sang "I am Woman, Hear me Roar."
Now there are murmurs of a third movie in which there is still a "story untold." Do we really want to see the boring part of life where Carrie and Samantha take their kids on play dates with Brady Brady and the adopted Goldenblatt kid? Better yet, do we want to watch their Jamaican nannies push them around in $1000 Bugaboo strollers? Sex 3 will most likely be more of the same unless they bring on the original writers and some heavy shit goes down--maybe we find out Big has a kid with the nanny and has them living in Carrie's house for years a la Schwartzenger style. Samantha's cancer comes back and we see how these women deal with the death of a friend. Can a third installment bring something more substantial than a bunch of people spending excessive amounts money on luxury logos? Don't bother.
Okay, Im lying. What would Carrie wear if she was pregnant? Sometimes I guess we need a little mind numbing eye candy fantasy.
