The thrill is gone from ‘Sex and the City’

There are men who would rather hang themselves with a monogrammed Louis Vuitton handbag than watch back episodes of “Sex and the City,” but I'm not one of them. On the contrary, I've always been amused and fascinated by the navel-gazing clotheshorse Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) and her label-obsessed, libido-driven retinue.

The coital mishaps. The unabashed materialism. The riotously profane lunchtime banter. And, yes, the sisterhood. I protect my masculine dignity by observing it all zoologically, like Dian Fossey with stubble. Er, more stubble.

However, there is a moment during the long-awaited movie version of “Sex and the City” (actually, during a special red-carpet “roundup” that prefaced press screenings of the film) that makes me feel, briefly, like I'm drowning in estrogen. It takes place in New York, naturally, where gender-nonspecific fashion organism Steven Cojocaru is interviewing the stars.

Then, in a fit of strained enthusiasm, Cojocaru turns to the camera and tells us that the movie is soooooo funny, “It will make you tinkle in your Cosabella thong.” Bye-bye, masculine dignity. Nice knowin' ya.

As for the actual, bladder-paralyzing merits of the movie, well, that's debatable. Though peppered with the same buckshot witticisms that fans remember, the movie is pronouncedly more tame than the series. At well over two hours, it's also very long.

Overall, it's like watching a half-season of the show back-to-back-to-back-to-back – a prospect that would seem more inviting had series creator Michael Patrick King (here serving as writer and director) not already jumped the shark by inviting Carrie and her pals to taste the comedy-numbing fruits of domestic bliss.

The action – or lack thereof – picks up where the show left off. Charlotte (Kristen Davis) is married to the boring bald guy. Uptight attorney Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is married to the unctuous short guy. Reformed tramp Samantha (Kim Cattrall) has moved to Los Angeles to manage her wanna-be-actor boy toy (Jason Lewis).

And Carrie is still in love with Mr. Big (Chris Noth). So in love, in fact, that the couple decide to get married in what, quite by accident, becomes the big-ticket, Vogue-gracing matrimonial event of the week. Sounds too perfect? Not to worry – King introduces a series of betrayals and misunderstandings that prompt another series of contrite apologies and tearful taxicab makeup scenes. In tacit acknowledgment that these girls aren't the most diverse Blahnik freaks on the block, King has also written in a woman of color (“Dreamgirls” sensation Jennifer Hudson) who teaches Carrie token lessons about forgiveness and love.

What the movie lacks, aside from a funny lunchtime scene in which “coloring” is used as a euphemism for you-know-what, is a convincing replication of that old “Sex and the City” single-gal sass. Which is why, sadly, my masculine dignity was left unchallenged.


“Sex and the City”
Stars: Sarah Jessica Parker, Kim Cattrall, Kristen Davis, Cynthia Nixon
Behind the scenes: Written and directed by Michael Patrick King
Rated: R (strong sexual content, graphic nudity and language)
Running time: 2 hours, 28 minutes
Grade: C+