Lets all drink to the death of a series

Last night I went to see Sex and the City 2. I wish I hadn't. I can now add that to the long list of 3 hours of my life which I want back, but have despondently resigned myself to accepting...I just won't.

I was not, totally unprepared for this though. I have read my fair share of the reviews and so was half expecting it to be, abysmal. I was holding out though; I liked the last film, it made me laugh, it was witty it maintained the essence of the show, I was a fan. And I, loved the tv series. It was a staple feature of my school days and I still watch it now, and always enjoy it. Regardless of what anyone says, I stand by my opinion that it's a good show. The writing is witty and the characters are not just 2 dimensional lonely women with a side of nymphomania. Plus it was frequently bloody funny, and yes, it talked about sex, but frankly, honestly, and really, realistically. The characters talked about sex the way millions of women everyday across the world talk and think about sex and discuss it with their friends. Good stuff, in my books basically.

So the first film was perhaps a little long, and Carrie did scream quite a lot (standard), but it also did generally manage to maintain the majority of the best things about the series. The second film however, did not. In fact, it was rather like at some point during the production of the second film, they had gathered everything representing the series and the first film, burnt them, buried its ashes and then directed dogs within a 100 mile radius to repeatedly shit upon the grave, legacy and memory of them. I mean, fuck this film was this awful.

Although it did have amusing moments, at which I duly laughed these in no way came anywhere close to redeeming it. Without giving away any of the plot (I use the word plot in the loosest sense of the word) the entire film gave you an incredible insight into what happens when writers and producers attempt to cack-handedly deal with a sensitive issue (in this case, Muslim and Middle-Eastern culture), give up, mid pathetic attempt and instead repeatedly trample over them instead. Painful. It basically featured, 4 middle aged women (who suddenly have become so one-dimensional I could have sworn at one stage Miranda turned sideways and literally just DISAPPEARED), running around the Middle East, lamenting why they can't talk about sex, why they can't wear that one thread of fabric they paid over $9,000 dollars in child labor for, and why does no one else dress like them? They are after all, FABULOUS. Oh sorry, I meant were.


So apart from Carrie's annoying voice overs and several severe cases of mutton dressed up as lamb it held practically no relation to its predecessors. Ironically enough, this is what I find myself clinging to though. In order for me to watch and enjoy SATC at some point in the future (after a grace period of recovery), I need to remind myself that this second film, was really like some mutant cousin born out of wedlock. It exists, but lets pretend it doesn't, for the greater good.