As I was watching Sex and the City 2, it struck me that Carrie and company were modern day variations of the characters from Caligula or Luchino Visconti’s The Damned: their extravagance and gross indulgence has long gone unchecked, and it will eventually lead to their violent downfall.
The only difference is that Sex and the City is a celebration of gross indulgence, and the payoff is not a downfall, it’s more indulgence.
Look, I don’t want to pour on the hatred, there has been enough of that already (just check out some of the reviews at Rotten Tomatoes). I’m not in the target audience for this movie, I’ve never seen the show; if you’ve built up a relationship with these characters from the years on TV, then sure, you can forgive their sins. I get that.
But getting past my personal distaste for the material, Sex and the City 2 is still an awful film. It’s an endurance test at a plotless 2.5 hours, with little to engage the viewer. The characters just sit up there on the screen, bathing in their extravagance for the duration; even if you like them, I have to imagine you expect a little more here.
The film opens at a gay wedding. Ministered, of course, by Liza Minnelli, who performs Beyoncé’s Single Ladies with two lookalike dancers after performing the vows. This is the high point of the film; afterwards we have to actually confront the characters and all their “problems”.
Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) seems to have an issue with her ridiculously boring husband, Mr. Big (Chris Noth); she wants to, I don’t know, go out and do something, and he wants to order take out, take a load off, and watch some TV. Which is what he proceeds to do throughout the rest of the film. He seems like a nice enough guy, but he’s trapped inside this caricature of a lazy husband.
Charlotte (Kristin Davis) has a little girl who won’t stop crying. Oh, she has a full-time, live-in nanny to actually take care of the kid, but still: won’t this goddamn kid shut the hell up? Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), uh, she quits her job. Samantha (Kim Cattrall), she just wants to have sex.
Of course, none of these characters will actually confront their problems or change during the course of the film. Their lifestyle won’t allow for it.
The big plot point, though, is a trip to Abu Dhabi. There, the girls surround themselves with exotic indulgence. And offend the locals with their blissful ignorance. The writer/director, Michael Patrick King, seems to be confronting the idea that Sex and the City and the way of life it promotes is the reason terrorists hate the US.
Comedy in the film is limited to bad puns. “Bedouin, Bath, and Beyond,” and “Lawrence of my Labia.” Yechh. Drama fares no better. The big climax is when Carrie briefly kisses someone, then feels really really bad about it. As they age, with the Botox and collagen and worldly possessions, these women are actually becoming Barbie dolls. Parker fares the worst, with a waxy plastic complexion and those soulless blue eyes.
They’re no more than props in their own lives; I wonder if they’ll ever wake up one day and wonder where it’s all gone, what was the point of it all. You’d think the filmmakers might want to address the economic concerns that have hit since the last movie. Nah. It’s just more shoes and designer handbags.
