In an odd twist of fate, I found myself in an estrogen cluster-fuck last night at the premiere of the Sex and the City movie. Well, maybe it wasn’t so much a twist of fate as me dropping the ball and not getting tickets for my friend and her crew whose idea it was to go to see SATC on opening night in the first place. As usual, the drama started before I even got to the theatre. It was all just a horrible case of miscommunication. She thought I was getting tickets for everyone, and I thought everyone was getting their own. Of course, by the time we sorted it out, it was too late, the movie was sold out, she and her friends found themselves sexless in the city, and me and my two girl friends, whose arms I twisted to brave the estrogen party I knew was coming that night, were in a theatre with about a million other women and wannabe women. There were Charlottes, Carries, Mirandas, Samanthas, and even a Stanford or two, all desperate to get a little Sex back in their lives. When the lights went down, the whole theatre erupted in applause. And then again when the catchy little theme song filled the room. If this kept up, I was definitely going to have to duck out and join the boyfriends at Iron Man across the hall.
Despite my reservations, the movie was actually pretty good. I laughed as much, if not more, as when I was at home watching the TV show. One scene in particular with Charlotte in Mexico and an unfortunate absence of bathrooms almost had me rolling on the floor. Miranda was even crankier than usual, and Carrie was the same punny Carrie with the same Big issues she’s had for twenty-some years now. But it was Samantha who stole the show. That diva must have kicked some gay writer ass to get all of the best one-liners in the movie.
In the end, the girls (with one exception) wound up pretty much in the same spots they’d been in when the series ended. As much as I love the girls (and their shoes), there is absolutely nowhere else the writers can take us with them. The core of the series was about a group of single women in NY trying to find love. And they finally found it. End of story. Did ya hear that, Darren Star? END of story. THE END. And if you could pass the message along to Indie Jones while you're at it, that'd be great.