There's something distinctly misguided and wrong with Sex and the City and it lies in its atmosphere as well as its approach to its material. I don't think it knows what it wants to be and ends up several things, usually all at once. Is it a light and fluffy comic piece about contemporary life in one of the world's largest cities? Or is it some sort of harrowing look at breaking up with someone? Or maybe it's supposed to be some kind of escapist fable about friendship and pulling through amidst thick, thin and everything in-between. The thing is it's so all over the place, and at over two hours long the film most definitely outstays its welcome, that it's everything before ending on a note that reeks of some kind of false, circular journey we're supposed to think the lead characters have been through.
The gist of the bizarre clash of ideas is best illustrated during the opening half an hour or so during which we get a lot of fluff and a lot of sugary establishment of characters and the world in which they live before, at random intervals, cutting to explicit sex scenes between people we've spent all of about ten minutes with. It's an odd jump in content and consequently, changes the atmosphere from one that is syrupy and light hearted as these women establish their lives before changing tact and giving us the raw human form. It's a bizarre, bizarre blend of the innocent and the explicit that sets in motion a pretty bland chain of events.
The film obviously wasn't made for me or the audience demographic that I fall into but I'm not sure if it even appeals to the audience demographic it thinks its being made for. The film is 'Bratz: The Movie' for adults, featuring colourful and casual female leads strutting through a New York City that exists purely within the universe of iffy movies and it sees them getting into dainty little situations and exchanges. The women are Carrie Bradshaw (Parker); Samantha Jones (Cattrall); Charlotte York (Davies) and Miranda Hobbes (Nixon), whom during the film will indulge in a variety of activities and exchange a number of dialogue tidbits to one another to do with how often one must shave below the waist and how shops and fashion labels are really great things to live by.
The film is about four women and how they live their life but it is directed by a male named Michael Patrick King. I was wary of this going into the film and unfortunately, rather than act as an interesting or constructive piece as the guy at the helm attempts to deconstruct the gaze and present these women in a positive light of some sort (something I was optimistic it might've done), he has them say some pretty nasty things about one another and to one another while there are plenty of examples of product placement buried within the dialogue. Companies such as Netflix, Prada and Dior all getting a mention, which is quite sad. Additionally, other characters cannot help but feel disappointed that they're "eating everything, apart from a certain male character's genitalia" and when one other male partner states, following one of those many out of place sex scenes, that they feel 'distant'; one of the women snaps back: "Distant? You're still in me!" Dialogue like this shoots down any of the above hopefulness/general theory.
It's difficult to describe, but you know when you watch a Saw sequel and you witness these traps that crop up at certain points and you think 'Blimey, who thinks this stuff up?' Well, the same can be said for lines of dialogue like the ones just mentioned. It's out of place and the focus isn't actually on the fact that they may possibly be 'distant' from one another but more so on the snappy comeback, echoing the disjointed tone the overall film has. So once all the sweet and nicey, nicey pleasantries have been set up, we quite crudely get whacked around the head with a proverbial hammer when it appears Carrie's long term partner Mr. Big (Noth) doesn't want to get married after all and after all the proposals, stands her up on the big day. Needless to say, she isn't pleased and heads off to should-be honeymoon destination Mexico with her three buddies.
I thought the film was going to branch off into something else. The distinct change in tone is obvious: colourful and flowery to gloomy and depressing as Carrie tries to recover from her breakup and I thought it might look at what it's like to get over a relationship from the perspective of a late thirties, American woman who's successful in her own right. But what we get is a series of crass sex jokes; more Apple Mac.; Mercedes-Benz and Gucci product placement as well as just a general feeling of tedium as the film drifts towards its non-event of a study and then completely cops out with a nicey, nicey finale.
The film tries, it so desperately tries. Mr Big has been married twice before and that's supposed to be a precursor to Carrie's catalyst; but a catalyst for what, I ask. One other male partner early on has an affair and some contractual issues create friction for another couple but there is no love lost here and there is no real empathy with anyone, just colourful, flowery people ditzying around a sugar coated New York that doesn't see much happen. What does it teach us? Well, as long as you have a huge wardrobe for all your clothes and skills in cooking Sushi for you husband then nothing else matters. There must be more to late thirties life as a female journalist in contemporary New York than that.
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