30 May 2010 | Florentyna23
The Emperor has no clothes on
My sister and I were so excited about going to this movie. With the recession, the loss of jobs and general pessimism of late - the thought of dressing up, drinking cocktails and watching a great movie in the company of a whole room full of women like us was excellent. We desperately wanted to love the movie.
Initially, everyone seemed to be in good form – a bit of a cheer when Mr. Big came on screen; gasps and giggles in response to the first few jokes
.then uncomfortable silence. My sister squirmed in the seat beside me through the horrible 'I am woman' song. Having visited the Middle East myself (and enjoyed the cultural experience and friendly people; albeit with a different outlook on life) I was pretty appalled at the blatant lack of propriety exercised by the four.
I have to admit when the movie ended, all the women around me turned to each other and said it was 'great' – I don't think we were ready to admit that it was possibly the biggest disappointment ever. My sister and I had planned to talk about the outfits and scenarios after
we completely avoided the topic. We had all looked forward to this movie – we couldn't admit to ourselves (never mind anyone else) that it was awful.
To say I loved the original show is an understatement. As I enter my late twenties/early thirties, the reruns are even more relevant. The characters in the show discussed sexuality in a fresh, exciting way. They were women you could look up to – intelligent, confident, self-assured. They bear zero resemblance to the four self-indulgent, disrespectful, two dimensional creatures I had to watch.
I doubt any fan will take my advice and not go – I would have ignored it myself. The movie seems to symbolise everything that has gone wrong lately – by blindly pursuing materialism we lose what's really important. This movie spells that out – and leaves you feeling ashamed for having loved them so much in the first place. Having said that, I watched an episode in the series a night later and realised that, actually, I'm not an idiot – they used to discuss interesting, relevant issues – just in fabulous clothes.
As an aside, I spent an hour with my sister getting all dressed up to go, two hours chatting to her before we watched the horror show and four hours after dancing our socks off. Maybe the fact that was the best part means I have my priorities right after all.