dir. Michael Patrick King
This film makes it abundantly clear that Sex and the City was never supposed to be in cinemas. The antics of Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha were perfect for the small screen: a bit of escapism each week, a little “story of the week” while allowing for long-form arcs. Sex and the City flounders as a movie. The most intriguing conflicts – Big leaving Carrie at the altar, or Steve cheating on Miranda – aren’t given sufficient time for exploration. Instead we have to focus on things like Carrie dyeing her hair, or Samantha spying on her neighbours having sex. Oh, and Charlotte’s there too, sometimes. Yet at the end, everything’s just worked itself out to be happy and okay, despite all the deception and betrayal and pain. While the show got away with such toxic optimism, it had a longer running time each season to let things settle and develop. The movie, despite an excessive length of two and a half hours, just feels rushed. It’s an underwhelming instalment in the Sex and the City franchise. But it could be worse. Could be Sex and the City 2.