Movie Review:


What caters to women, has relationship advice and sob stories, plugs designer clothing and accessories, and is often time-consuming?

The correct answer is “Sex and the City,” the movie.

Four years after the hit HBO series ended, executive producer Michael Patrick King announced they were making a “Sex and the City” continuation. Two things passed through my mind: goodie and why.

I was excited to see our fabulous foursome again, but wondered why they walked away from the series, then later decided to make a movie. HBO didn’t cancel the series, and there weren’t any cliffhangers or unanswered questions. I guess they made the movie just to line their pocketbooks. (No issue with that one.)

Let’s do a recap of what happened when the series ended. Working woman Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) was married to bartender Steve (David Eigenberg) and moved to Brooklyn with their son. Charlotte (Kristen Davis) married her second husband Harry (Evan Handler) and because of conception problems, decided to adopt a Chinese girl. Frisky Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) did the unthinkable and committed to a monogamous relationship with hunky actor Smith Jerrod (Jason Lewis), and sex columnist Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) finally got Mr. Big (Chris Noth).

Even though that was four years ago, the movie starts just like that. Sure, there are changes. Miranda and Steve are having marital problems, and Samantha is trying not to slip into old habits with an Italian stud neighbor, but our main couple is happily living in unmarried bliss.

That is, until Mr. Big proposes to Carrie. With the way those two were in the series, the idea of Murphy’s Law (whatever can go wrong, will) comes to mind.

A personal tragedy happens (and it wasn’t surprising), and the girls whisk Carrie away to Mexico to get her head back on straight. Only two things bring her back to life; Charlotte’s bout of loose bowels, which is the funniest part of the 2.5-hour movie, and the introduction of personal assistant Louise (Jennifer Hudson).

Louise is very charming, but doesn’t add much to the movie—except designer handbags and possibly the key to helping Carrie get her life on track.

However great it was seeing the quartet again (especially Samantha, my favorite character), it felt more like flipping through a fashion magazine than watching a movie.

Fashion has always been a staple of “Sex and the City,” but there was too much product placement in the movie. It’s borderline revolting. I say borderline because the first Vera Wang dress Carrie tries on for a wedding fashion shoot at Vogue is divine. It was this crisp white silk dress, with a long ruffled train. The fashion scenes must have been infused with subliminal messaging because I so wanted that dress.

Alas, beautiful, mind-warping clothing does not make “Sex and the City” a better movie, just prettier. And while the movie doesn’t forget its core premise—everlasting friendship among four women—it just reminds me that instead of this movie, they could have had another season, which is what true fans of the show really wanted.

I gave this film a B.

Dedra Cordle is a Messenger staff writer.

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