Carrie has lunch with Petrovsky's ex Juliette B. who tells her he always gives priority to his art above his partner- she finds that true and has a generally bad time. Charlotte prepares with Anthony...
While Carrie and Stanford hang out at the bar of Brasserie 8 1/2 in midtown Manhattan, they run into Lynn Cameron, an old friend, who is producing a NY fashion show featuring real models and famous ...
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,
Although Carrie says her address is 245 E. 73rd Street in Manhattan, the actual exterior of her iconic brownstone apartment is 64 Perry Street in the West Village. You can visit the apartment, but a chain blocks people from going up the steps, as it is a private residence. See more »
In the opening credits, a close-up of the bus that splashed Carrie shows that it was full of people. But as the bus rounds the corner, it is totally empty. See more »
You have a lot of nerve telling me to get a wax. If you were in Aruba the natives could bead your back. And it's not just there: every time I blow you I feel like I'm flossing.
See more »
From episodes 61 ("The Good Fight") and beyond, the credits were altered after the 9/11 attacks. New footage is now present, durning the title and Sarah Jessica Parker's name, that originally featured shots of the Twin Towers. See more »
Sex and the City Deviated Way too Much for My Liking
I first caught SATC in the late nineties, and thought it was great. At the time the show really captured a certain nineties sensibility - it was cynical, tongue-in-cheek, adult. Though not your average SATC fan - heterosexual, thirty-something male working in IT - I became obsessed, and was sure to see each new episode the first time it aired. However, over time I became disillusioned with the series.
First, I eventually read the book. Despite the author's reluctance to say anything, the show never was much like the book, and has - over the years - strayed far far away. The book is, like most of Candace Bushnell's work, insightful and witty, with its humor derived from a certain urbane severity; it shares more with the works of Carrie Fischer and Tama Janowitz than any of the stuff now labeled Chick Lit.
Bushnell's characters may fall in love, even marry. They may have Manolos and Birkin bags, but this is all background noise of sorts. Bushnell is an under-rated pop-anthropologist, depicting the tribes that inhabit the big city. We may no longer be hunting our food, or struggling to keep the fire going, but it is still all about survival. Bushnell is great at depicting the primal hunger that, while it once made man fight to the death over territory or a fresh kill, now makes women deck themselves out in top gear and hunt down that Banker or Fortune 500 Executive, or fight tooth-and-nail to break through the glass ceiling.
Second, somewhere midlife, SATC, the show, got lost. All that incidental stuff - the shoes and bags, and places-to-be-seen - moved from the background to the foreground. The show became one long glossy luxury goods advertisement, the kind found in Vanity Fair. The movie underlines this - while there are great story lines, etc, the theatrical release is one obscene orgy of consumerism and decadence.
Too bad. The last years of SATC is an insult to both the book and the early years of the show. It is certainly an insult to the public, but - considering SATC was most popular in its later years - maybe the insult is much deserved.
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