On May 27th, women whose eyes have for weeks been monitoring the length and width of Samantha Cameron’s baby bump on the BBC news homepage will simultaneously redirect their focus towards the release of Sex & The City 2.
Cinemas are preparing to lose their automatic doors as, once again, hordes of excitable city girls shove, jostle and propel one another towards the box offices. Broken-off heels will bespatter cinema car-parks waiting to be crushed by post-film celebratory wheel screeching. The scent of Marc Jacobs ‘Daisy’ will fill the air as women in never-the-right-time dresses and let-your-hair-down hair dos deflate their meringue cupcake skirts before sitting down to watch the second instalment of ‘I still can’t find a boyfriend…have you seen my cocktail?’
The last time we bore witness to such girlishness was when the preceding title ‘Don’t give a baby your mobile phone on your wedding day’ hit our screens in 2008. When the poo hit the fan that day, the sisters bunched together – like Sister Sledge like The Supremes like the Pink Ladies – to help drive home that all important message yet again – Men-Are-Flees-On-Rats.
SATC used to be one of my favourite programmes but now, well, since I began to give two hoots about how women come across; I find it quite frustrating.
Fans are lost, empty and hungry for another feature length version of what should have stayed a popular US series. We have stuffed ourselves rigid with the less malign, bite-sized episodes known collectively as the SATC dvd box-set and I’m almost certain we are now sat cross legged in a state of apoplexy because there isn’t another one just like it to hand.
…girls, look what we’ve become…
I can well understand how the director, Michael Patrick King compares making these gobshite films to a party.
“When the movie opened, I would see lines of women and they were all dressed up and going to a party. I thought to myself, ‘I want the sequel to be the continuation of the party. I want it to be the party.’”
Annoying. It’s like gorging on 800 episodes of ITV’s Loose Women without a glass of water.
Not to mention the irreparable kink in communication that now exists between males and females. SATC isn’t a show that helps women to understand men. It coerces us into doubting and distrusting our boyfriends, second guessing our husbands and festering over things that may or may not have even happened. Men hated us for watching the HBO series but, yeah, sure, go on, make two films. Make three.
Women can never get out there and discover what men really think if they’re slouched on the sofa with each other or in a strange man’s bed frantically looking through his bank details in search of something incriminating.
I will be in no rush to see this film and will try my utmost to talk about something else that night.