So now that the Sex and the City movie has become a “surprise hit,” does this mean we should be expecting more of this? This big-screen update of the 1939 George Cukor film The Women Obviously Wasn’t Made For Me™, but that doesn’t mean I should excuse its missteps. For one thing, there’s the characters- driven career woman, tart-mouthed best friend, sweet pregnant woman, sassy black lesbian, Latina gold digger- that are more or less standard-issue for this kind of movie. Then there’s the lovingly fetishized cosmopolitan lifestyle, replete with ritzy boutiques and leisurely lunches. To say nothing of the conversations, which sound like they were ghost-written by Bruce Vilanch. In other words, everything I and most guys I know tend to despise about “chick flicks,” a genre that bears as much relation to real life as the Star Wars prequels do. Which is not to say I’m completely opposed to “chick flicks”- just that this one doesn’t strike me as especially distinguished, aside from its estrogen-exclusive cast. But obviously, your mileage may vary, so if this is your thing, don’t let me stop you. If you need me, I’ll be in the next auditorium watching shit blow up.
