Sex And WHAT City?

Jun 07

Samantha doesn’t have sex until the end of this not-so-hot sequel, and then, it’s not even in The City  — but on some sand dune in the Hamptons with a guy she met in Abu Dhabi, played in the movie by Morocco.

You know what? That steamy scene seemed gratuitous. The most sexual thing in SATC2 til then was a kiss between Carrie and Aidan. And Carrie is so freaked out by this kiss (this KISS!) that she calls Big, her husband of two years whom we now call John because that’s his name, to confess the terrible, horrible, awful thing she did. So it’s not just What City, but What Sex?

satcmovie.jpgCome on ladies, we came to see a spin-off of a show that was really frank, often outrageous and sometimes hysterically funny about sex. The scene in the taxi when Charlotte, the conservative one, reveals what her new boyfriend wants to do to her derriere — just as the cab hits a bump in the road — is priceless. “What was that?” she asks, and the girls respond as one, “A preview.” Even the cabbie smirked. The girls were funny then.

And where did these women and their endless supply of hot-to-trot men have all this many-splendored sex? In.The.City.

The title was not, however, Sex IN the City, but Sex AND The City, because Manhattan (and occasionally Brooklyn and Staten Island too) was a character in the show. We loved it! New Yorkers got to see all the “in” places and out-of- towners got a glimpse of a life that never did and never will exist.
It’s too bad about the “Scary Sadshaws” —
young women who come to NY looking for SATC, and are, to put it mildly, wildly disappointed.

But some wannabees do seem to be having a blast, don’t they? I know this: the TV show was pure fantasy, and it sure worked for me.

I lived vi-Carrie-iously for 6 sexy seasons.

And then, there’s the movie . . .

These Are Big Problems?
Besides the BFD of the kiss, Carrie’s biggest problem is that Big, I mean, John, likes to watch TV. In their gazillion-dollar apartment with a walk-in closet bigger than many a walk-up apartment in this overcrowded town. Carrie doesn’t cook — but complains about take-out because she wants her husband to take her out. Bummer. Meanwhile, Miranda is misunderstood at work as a high-paid attorney (boo-hoo) and Charlotte is finding it hard being a mother. Really? Why didn’t someone tell us about this before?

satc2camel.jpgBut then, thank heavens, just in the nick of time, Samantha gets a gig in the Middle East and takes the quartet to a technicolor fantasy-land, where they wear designer duds in 110 heat, are waited on hand and foot, and generally act like Ugly Americans. I did like the part on the cranky camel when Samantha complains to Carrie that she’s having a hot flash, and Carrie quips that under these conditions if she weren’t having a hot flash, she’d be dead.

The movie had lots of quips: wince all you want, but “Lawrence of My Labia” is pretty good.

But quotable quips and multiple wardrobe changes do not a movie make. The TV series was so smart; this movie requires you to drink lots of Cosmos beforehand and check your IQ at the door.

But you know what? I could do that. I have done that. I might even be able to forgive the lame plot, the ridiculous coincidences, and that these women are mortified by the mere thought of flying coach or not having paid help for their children. But the movie did the unforgivable: it two-timed one of my favorite characters — no, not the Absolute Hunk, although lord knows, Samantha is nuts to ignore that man — I’m talking about The City.

Ladies, please. Come (you should pardon the pun) back to New York. Wear anything you want, change clothes every ten minutes if that makes you happy, ride camels in Central Park, hire an assistant named Abdul (“as in Paula”), attend lots of gay weddings (over the top fun in the film), hire Liza Minelli to do a cover of Single Ladies (!!) and okay, you can even go to the Hamptons to frolic on the dunes. Once in a while.

But stay close to home, because if you can make it here . . .
You don’t have to go to Abba Dabba Doo. 

I think I’m mixing my metaphors, but then, so did the producers of this it-could-have-been-and-should-been-better-for-all-of-us-fans film. Harumph.



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