Reviewed by Neil Davey
Stars Sarah Jessica Parker, Cynthia Nixon, Kristin Davis, Kim Cattrall, Chris Noth,
Jennifer Hudson, David Eigenberg, Evan Handler | Written by Michael Patrick King & Candace Bushnell
UK certification 15 | UK RRP £22.99 | DVD Region 2 | Runtime 139 minutes | Directed by Michael Patrick King
The four "girls"? Check. Sexy New York locations? Check. Witty asides? Check. Expensive frocks? Check, check and check again: hell, Carrie (Parker) manages around seven changes of outfit in the opening monologue. Character development? Er, moving swiftly on ...
And so, with a click of the Manolos and a flash of Vivienne Westwood, Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda get a big screen sequel to six seasons of Sex & The City. The ongoing, cross Manhattan search for "the two Ls" as Carrie calls them — that's "love" and "labels" by the way — saw the four tackle some serious issues, wear some (I'm assured fabulous) outfits, come across all sorts of sexual predilections and, finally, all discover love in some way shape or form.
For Carrie, that was obviously a long-lasting "on" position for her on/off romance with Big (Noth). For Samantha (Cattrall), it was Smith (Jason Lewis), the laidback model-cum-actor who unexpectedly understood her many foibles. For Charlotte (Davis), it was the impeccably upscale life with Harry (Handler) and their adopted daughter Lily. And for career-focused Miranda (Nixon), it was building a family home in Brooklyn with Steve (Eigenberg) and son Brady. And so, four years after the end of the series, where are the four? Well, they're pretty much in the same position. Samantha's now on the West Coast taking care of Smith's acting career but that's really the only change, and that's where the film starts to suffer. Yes, fans of the series will enjoy it — it's still well-made wish-fulfillment with sharp lines and a frank nature — but it's hard to shake the feeling that it's a wasted opportunity.
Even if you don't believe the rumours of the on-set rifts (and it always struck us as PR at its spinniest), the implication was it would take something truly special to reiunite the four key characters, a smart story with something to say. On this evidence, it's clear that the "something truly special" is big appearance fees, rather than a script of any originality. Viewed as a (very) extended follow-up episode — seriously, 139 minutes? 139?! — the film is as guilty a pleasure as the series ever was. Taken on its own merits though? The word that springs to mind is "hmmmm..." The series' strength was the character development: over the course of six years, the characters evolved, grew up and changed focus, and the writing never shied away from the big issues. From impotence to infertility, via breast cancer, infidelity, the pressures facing modern career women and — gulp — getting older, the series tackled some heavy areas, and was all the richer for it. Here, it feels like so much treading water.
The main story is Carrie and Big breaking up again, albeit on a bigger, way more public scale: just before the wedding that, in Carrie's words, is "bigger than Big". As per usual, the others orbit around Carrie's tale. For the underused Samantha, this entails missing New York and resisting change. For Charlotte, it means underuse on a grand scale — she's literally there to give occasional girly asides while Harry (one of the series' best peripheral characters) gets maybe two lines. For Miranda and Steve though, it's serious story arc: Steve admits an affair, Miranda moves out. Unfortunately, it's a serious story arc that's completely under-explored, and really just there so Miranda can give Big an enormous "marriage sucks" reminder at a key moment. When Nixon and the likeable Eigenberg finally get their moment in the spotlight, it's probably the most touching scene in the entire film but, by then, it's way too little, way too late.
Worse, Cattrall feels underused. Even discounting her mould-breaking, cliche-shattering, go-getting older woman, Samantha was always just a great character, and her blunt humour and even blunter honesty provided the balance to the group's problems. Take her out of the equation and those problems suddenly seem like so much shallow, middle-class, label-conscious angst. The film is thus balanced on Sarah Jessica Parker's tiny shoulders and, while she's a decent actress, her prevarications on life as a single girl are wearing almost as thin as Parker herself. Seriously, I defy anyone to not shout "eat something! for God's sake, eat something!" in the two or three scenes where she appears scantily clad.
So yes, fans of the series — and I certainly count myself among those — will still enjoy this feature-length debut for what it is (ie, a very expensive catalogue with witty asides). But it's hard to shake the feeling that it could, and certainly should, have been so much more.
EXTRAS Not a cracker.