SATC2: SLOPPY SECONDS

At risk of losing my BFF over this statement, it must be said:  Sex and the City 2 was a train wreck. It was a horrendous disappointment to me; a girl who absolutely loves girly movies and is pretty forgiving of their many shortcomings. And I don’t care if this review is for an old(ish) movie so shut up.

Let’s start ‘er off with this gem. Though seemingly impossible, SJP somehow dropped more weight, Kim Cattrall, at +50 and once a total babe in Mannequin, somehow looks like Rachael McAdams in this photo (thank you, Photoshop), but looks and acts like a haggardy wretch during the movie, and pretty much throughout the entire movie all four women are generally whiny and bitchy (you’re welcome for saving you two hours).

Where the first movie had a general plot, this movie desperately grasps at straws for both plot and dialogue. After countless fall-flat jokes (i.e. “Erin go bra-less” in reference to Charlotte’s Irish nanny and “the Jude Law” in reference to their conversation about law) I waited for it to get funny. Whine after whine, I still waited for them to realize that they’re over 45 and:

  1. Carrie:  Married life isn’t full of “sparkle” every effing day.
  2. Samantha:  Quit being a whore.
  3. Charlotte:  You have a nanny and you don’t work; raising two kids isn’t that hard.
  4. Miranda:  You’ve been a workaholic since Season I and it’s the same sob story. Shit or get off the pot.

So, needless to say, I continued to wait for it to get good. And then this happened:

They went on an all expenses paid, private jet, first class (we get it; you’re rich and you still get shit for free) girls’ trip to Abu Dhabi and dressed like idiots (see picture) the entire time, rode around in separate G-Class Maybachs (I don’t know what these are and had to look them up, but they’re >$100k. So, that’s stupid.)… It was pretty much disgustingly gluttonous and over the top.

Then this happened:

Here they are, again dressed like idiots for being in a desert, singing karaoke in an Abu Dhabi night club. Do they sing something good? No, they sing Helen Reddy’s “I am Woman.”

If you make a third Sex and the City, Michael Patrick King, I will find you, break your arm, and beat you with it. Quit letting older women think it’s okay to dress like they’re still in their twenties, act like sluts and idiots, and bitch and moan all of the time. They don’t have to don diapers and dentures, but give them some long overdue dignity.

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