While wrestling with the pressures of life, love, and work in Manhattan, Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte join Samantha for a trip to Abu Dhabi (United Arab Emirates), where Samantha's ex is filming a new movie.
Michael Patrick King
Sarah Jessica Parker,
Benjamin Barry is an advertising executive and ladies' man who, to win a big campaign, bets that he can make a woman fall in love with him in 10 days. Andie Anderson covers the "How To" beat for "Composure" magazine and is assigned to write an article on "How to Lose a Guy in 10 days." They meet in a bar shortly after the bet is made.
After moving in together in an impossibly beautiful New York apartment, Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big make a rather arbitrary decision to get married. The wedding itself proves to be anything but a hasty affair--the guest list quickly blooms from 75 to 200 guests, and Carrie's simple, label-less wedding gown gives way to an enormous creation that makes her look like a gigantic cream puff. An upcoming photo spread in Vogue puts the event--which will take place at the New York Public Library--squarely in the public eye. Meanwhile, Carrie's girlfriends--Samantha, the sexpot; Charlotte, the sweet naïf; and Miranda, the rigid perfectionist--could not be happier. At least, they couldn't be happier for Carrie. Charlotte still has the unrealized hope of getting pregnant. Samantha is finding a loving, committed relationship more grueling than she could have imagined. Miranda unwittingly lets her own unhappiness--created when Steve admits to cheating on her just once--spoil Carrie's. After a ... Written by
After Miranda and Carrie have a fight and they talk it over in the cab Miranda took to Carrie's, the cab man is the same person that appeared in the TV show at least twice, for example when all the girls are discussing anal sex in the cab in Sex and the City: Valley of the Twenty-Something Guys (1998). See more »
When Carrie reads emails from Big, they are all dated in September, when New York City observes Daylight Savings Time. The time stamp on the email incorrectly reads "EST" for Eastern Standard Time, when it should read "EDT" for Eastern Daylight Time. See more »
Year after year, twenty-something women come to New York City in search of the two L's: labels and love.
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Written by Lenny Kravitz, Niara Scarlett, Matt Ward and Dean Gillard
Performed by Mutya Buena
Courtesy of Universal-Island Records Limited
By Arrangement with Zync Music Inc.
Contains a sample of "It Ain't Over 'til It's Over"
Performed by Lenny Kravitz
Courtesy of Virgin Records America
Under license from EMI Film & Teleivision Music See more »
Cynical when it isn't inducing the odd cringe through its humour, Sex and the City proves that some television shows just shouldn't be translated to the big screen.
There's something distinctly misguided and wrong with Sex and the City and it lies in its atmosphere as well as its approach to its material. I don't think it knows what it wants to be and ends up several things, usually all at once. Is it a light and fluffy comic piece about contemporary life in one of the world's largest cities? Or is it some sort of harrowing look at breaking up with someone? Or maybe it's supposed to be some kind of escapist fable about friendship and pulling through amidst thick, thin and everything in-between. The thing is it's so all over the place, and at over two hours long the film most definitely outstays its welcome, that it's everything before ending on a note that reeks of some kind of false, circular journey we're supposed to think the lead characters have been through.
The gist of the bizarre clash of ideas is best illustrated during the opening half an hour or so during which we get a lot of fluff and a lot of sugary establishment of characters and the world in which they live before, at random intervals, cutting to explicit sex scenes between people we've spent all of about ten minutes with. It's an odd jump in content and consequently, changes the atmosphere from one that is syrupy and light hearted as these women establish their lives before changing tact and giving us the raw human form. It's a bizarre, bizarre blend of the innocent and the explicit that sets in motion a pretty bland chain of events.
The film obviously wasn't made for me or the audience demographic that I fall into but I'm not sure if it even appeals to the audience demographic it thinks its being made for. The film is 'Bratz: The Movie' for adults, featuring colourful and casual female leads strutting through a New York City that exists purely within the universe of iffy movies and it sees them getting into dainty little situations and exchanges. The women are Carrie Bradshaw (Parker); Samantha Jones (Cattrall); Charlotte York (Davies) and Miranda Hobbes (Nixon), whom during the film will indulge in a variety of activities and exchange a number of dialogue tidbits to one another to do with how often one must shave below the waist and how shops and fashion labels are really great things to live by.
The film is about four women and how they live their life but it is directed by a male named Michael Patrick King. I was wary of this going into the film and unfortunately, rather than act as an interesting or constructive piece as the guy at the helm attempts to deconstruct the gaze and present these women in a positive light of some sort (something I was optimistic it might've done), he has them say some pretty nasty things about one another and to one another while there are plenty of examples of product placement buried within the dialogue. Companies such as Netflix, Prada and Dior all getting a mention, which is quite sad. Additionally, other characters cannot help but feel disappointed that they're "eating everything, apart from a certain male character's genitalia" and when one other male partner states, following one of those many out of place sex scenes, that they feel 'distant'; one of the women snaps back: "Distant? You're still in me!" Dialogue like this shoots down any of the above hopefulness/general theory.
It's difficult to describe, but you know when you watch a Saw sequel and you witness these traps that crop up at certain points and you think 'Blimey, who thinks this stuff up?' Well, the same can be said for lines of dialogue like the ones just mentioned. It's out of place and the focus isn't actually on the fact that they may possibly be 'distant' from one another but more so on the snappy comeback, echoing the disjointed tone the overall film has. So once all the sweet and nicey, nicey pleasantries have been set up, we quite crudely get whacked around the head with a proverbial hammer when it appears Carrie's long term partner Mr. Big (Noth) doesn't want to get married after all and after all the proposals, stands her up on the big day. Needless to say, she isn't pleased and heads off to should-be honeymoon destination Mexico with her three buddies.
I thought the film was going to branch off into something else. The distinct change in tone is obvious: colourful and flowery to gloomy and depressing as Carrie tries to recover from her breakup and I thought it might look at what it's like to get over a relationship from the perspective of a late thirties, American woman who's successful in her own right. But what we get is a series of crass sex jokes; more Apple Mac.; Mercedes-Benz and Gucci product placement as well as just a general feeling of tedium as the film drifts towards its non-event of a study and then completely cops out with a nicey, nicey finale.
The film tries, it so desperately tries. Mr Big has been married twice before and that's supposed to be a precursor to Carrie's catalyst; but a catalyst for what, I ask. One other male partner early on has an affair and some contractual issues create friction for another couple but there is no love lost here and there is no real empathy with anyone, just colourful, flowery people ditzying around a sugar coated New York that doesn't see much happen. What does it teach us? Well, as long as you have a huge wardrobe for all your clothes and skills in cooking Sushi for you husband then nothing else matters. There must be more to late thirties life as a female journalist in contemporary New York than that.
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