Last night, I attended the South African premiere of Sex and the City 2, courtesy of HP, who are one of the sponsors of the movie. They and their co-sponsors did an awesome job of transforming Hyde Park into a New York vibe, although us plebs were decidedly miffed that only the fashionably fabulous folk got into the Moet lounge... but let's not be petty here, it was a free movie.
I'll maybe blog about the event itself later, but for now, here are my thoughts on the movie.
I've been a Sarah Jessica Parker fan since LA Story (which is still one of my favourite movies in the history of ever), and although I didn't watch every episode of the Sex and the City TV series, I really enjoyed the ones that I did see. The first movie was a chick flick of note, but it was still fun, and oh my word, that Vivienne Westwood dress...
But the second movie is proof that too much of a good thing is, well, really appalling. The movie drags on for close on two hours and 45 minutes - it might have been more bearable if they'd contained themselves to an hour and 20. But clearly Abu Dhabi threw billions at them to create a suitably glamourous ad for the emirate, so they needed to stretch it out. A lot. Every time I thought it might be heading for a wrap, it sashayed off into another extended orgy of self-indulgence... or should that be sponsor-indulgence?
The plot line was more diaphanous than Carrie's curious outfit that she wore to sing karaoke (yes, apparently karaoke is tired in New York, but it's alive and well in Abu Dhabi), but what was strong all the way through was the American disdain for cultures other than theirs. It's no wonder Islam has such a problem with our friends across the water - judging by the oohs and ahs from the young women in the audience, these careless ignorant creatures are role models for an impressionable audience.
The Samantha character is really longer in the tooth than anything I've ever seen, although to give the scriptwriters credit, they do point this out a few times. She really is everything that I aspire not to be in a woman, and then some. Describing her as a slut isn't strong enough, and I'm sure respectable whores are offended by her behaviour - so I think you get my meaning?
What the movie does excel at, is at providing a showcase for a vast array of fashion and fabulous shoes. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the parts of the movie that weren't dragged out to show off Abu Dhabi, were dragged out purely to give the four friends more opportunities to wear different clothes - or the fashion houses more time to show off their wares. The fashions were interesting, colourful, exciting and intriguing, and there was probably a wardrobe full of clothes that I would happily embraced.
I totally get that this kind of movie is all about escapism, about seeing how the rich and (in)famous live. I get that fashion is a multi-billion dollar industry, and that women need role models to follow, icons to inspire them.
However, Samantha is the furthest thing from a role model that there is, Charlotte is pathetic, Miranda is clearly only there to show off the clothes that no-one else will wear, and Carrie really should get it that she's onto a good thing with Big.
As an entertainment experience, it left me stone cold, and wishing there was enough light to read my new books from Exclusives Books that were huddling in sheer horror, under my chair.