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Man-olo magic?

We make Matt Finnegan watch the Sex And The City movie. So is this what chaps make of Carrie and co?

Published on May 30th 2008.

Man-olo magic?

FOR some reason, the Sex And The City TV series never really grabbed my attention.

So I came to the movie as a relative virgin.

Untouched by six years of the ups and downs and ins and outs of the four 30-40 -plus New York women. I obviously had a lot to learn.

Just as I was beginning to tire
of Carrie teetering around Manhattan
in another pair of outrageous high
heels, something resembling real-life intervened: Infidelity. Weakness. Cowardice. Ah-ha!
All the traditional manly vices, laid bare

The flirting began. First, the extraordinary hype accompanying the film fluttered its eyelashes at me as it wiggled past.

I pretended not to notice and looked the other way. I wanted to remain pure.

Then Sarah Jessica Parker’s appearance on the Jonathan Ross show got me very interested. She was extremely bright, unconventionally attractive and immensely engaging.

If this was a glimpse into her character, Carrie Bradshaw, maybe I would find the woman of my dreams in the film?

Perhaps, understandably, I was hesitant and nervous at my first experience of Sex And The City. In the darkness, I was surrounded by women. Young ones, old ones, thin ones, fat ones, quite ones, loud ones – but none looked anything like Carrie. Some had got specially done up just for the film - it was clearly an event. Others bustled to their seats, laden down with bulging Primark bags. No sign of Jimmy Choo.

I looked the other way when the adverts started for deodorant, armpit-shaving and sanitary towels. But it was too late to make a run for it.

And the film divertingly raced through the TV back-story. Carrie was now happily apartment- hunting with Big; the little brunette had married and adopted; the blonde nympho was in LA with her actor hunk and the poor redhead was struggling to keep home, husband and career on track.

Just as I was beginning to tire of Carrie teetering around Manhattan in another pair of outrageous high heels and ostentatious dress, something resembling real-life intervened.

Infidelity. Weakness. Cowardice. Ah-ha! All the traditional manly vices, laid bare.

And viewed from an extremely rarefied perspective, of course. From women who apparently think nothing of spending $55,000 on a diamond and seem to have all the time in the world for long, leisurely lunches. And men who are either all adulterers, indecisive, or cannot communicate. Or gay. Or waiters.

This is not Barack Obama’s America, for sure. (Although you can well imagine Hillary cackling along with Carrie at a power lunch. In truth, poor people are invisible and there is only one prominent black character in this all-white world – Louise from St Louis, the crudely-drawn tokenistic nod in the direction of African Americans.

Politics? Well, women are not interested anyway, are they? One disjointed scene shows the blonde nympho, (who hails originally from Widnes and still appears to have a loyal affection for chemicals) with her white fur coat splattered with red by women animal rights protesters. “I love New York!” she exclaims, patronising their spirit. Achingly predictably, the protesters are portrayed as ugly, screaming harridans who have more chance of spending a night with a moose, than a man.

It is this kind of crude stereotyping which further undermines the film’s obvious and simplistic moralising about the complexity of human relationships.

There are some good laughs – post-coital hunky actor to blonde nympho lying naked beneath him: “You seem a bit distant?” Blonde nympho: “Distant? You’re still in me!”; one truly heart-stopping moment on Carrie and Big’s wedding day; and the cheesiest marriage proposal you are ever likely to have the misfortune to witness.

There is also a hugely anguished and memorable Valentine’s Day dinner scene between the film’s two central characters, Carrie and The Red-Head (the intriguing and impressive Miranda) which almost rescues Sex And The City from instant disposability.

In the end, however, the film, like most first dates, was a disappointment.

But as the credits rolled, the women in the audience seemed to heave an audible sigh of satisfaction.


*Sex And The City: The Movie (18) is on general release from today (Friday).

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Manhattan Murder MysteryMay 30th 2008.

Liked this review and very well written. Much better than the twaddle and predictable approach from everyone else. A refreshing change, as ever, Confidential. Keep going!

CarrieMay 30th 2008.

No man is an island...


That film Sounds ****e Matt, go back to Liberal Democrat watching, more suitable use of your valuable time.

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