Last night, we joined a theater filled with excited 20-something girls, eager to see the latest from the 50-something women of Sex and the City. More than the designer wear and witty banter, we looked forward to the nostalgia of seeing characters that feel like old friends. To those seeking this same sentiment, we hope you take this review as a precaution:
It's been two full years since we saw the foursome in the first Sex and the City (and twelve full years since we saw the pilot episode). Although a bit hokey, the original flick asked a pertinent question still on the minds of many fans: would Carrie ever put her whirlwind single life to bed, and tie the knot with Mr. Big? The film ended with a simple, yet morally conflicting, answer: yes.
Ironically, in the sequel the dramatic question is the same, only reversed: Will Carrie untie the knot, put her boring married life to bed, and go back to the “sparkly” single life she's beginning to miss?
Here we find the story's big problem (“Big” problem?). Who do you think you're fooling, Bradshaw? Sure there were a few steamy nights, but remember all the countless tears, psycho dates, and whiny lunches? Didn't Carrie's singleton seem more like a tornado than a Ferris wheel? And even though the much-publicized trip to Abu Dhabi and run-in with Aidan is nice (and don't yell “Spoiler alert!” because you've all seen the damn trailer), it's not exactly enough for a movie plot – especially one that's longer than Samantha's list of bedroom guests.
The film boasts the obvious benefit of stellar shoes, plus a surprisingly awesome cover of Single Ladies, a flashback revealing the quartet in the ‘80s (can you say CW TV spinoff?), and Miley Cyrus, which is funny.
But all in all, the film carrie-d on a good 40 minutes too long and lacked the authentic wit of the HBO show. So if nostalgia's what you're looking for, we recommend staying in and watching first-season reruns (i.e. the ones when Carrie talks directly to the camera).