Lots of talk this weekend about how guys don't like Sex and the City (see, e.g., link) Actually, I kinda liked Sex and the City (the TV show; I haven't seen the movie). It's not that my wife pushed me into it; I'm not sure she has ever seen it. And it is not just about all those hot babes making the boinky boinky. Well, okay it is about that, but there is more. The thing is that for all their dazzle and glamor, the girls were winningly human—vulnerable and bewildered, and unable to avoid making small or big mistakes. That opened up lots of opportunities for interesting, surprising, funny plots.
But I have to admit one thing: until the current hype over the movie, I never realized that it was all about the clothes.
1 comment:
Saw Sex In The Etcetera over the weekend. Saw it in the village of Westhampton Beach, NY, where the local movie theater, until now, has been struggling to fill seats, charges a fraction of the admission prices in NYC only 65 miles away, and until recently seemed to be so far behind financially that they were holding some of the seats together with duct tape.
Suddenly, there were ticketbuyer lines though the lobby and outside into the street. Inside, every seat was occupied. The chick-male ratio was about 55-45. This seemed to be largely a couples movie.
I found the movie not nearly so bad as the NY Times painted it. On the other hand it wasn't wonderful, either. Utimately, it was like sitting through a season's worth of Sex In The Etcetera TV shows without a bathroom break or a trip to the kitchen to check out what flavors of ice cream we had stocked in the freezer. By the time the final credits came on, I was muttering something like, "Thank God! I hope the line at the men's room isn't too long."
As alluded to in the Times review, the fabulous female foursome are getting just a bit long in the tooth for ongoing guy hunting.If this goes on long enough, they'll be hitting on men in their assisted living facility next. The big screen seems to exaggerate that notion.
And furthermore, when a yours truly, a straight male viewer, starts becoming painfully aware of the makeup, you gotta believe that somewhere in Hollywood, a makeup artist will be marched up a scaffold and hanged to the cheers of a huge crowd.
But what do I know? I'm only...
Crankily yours,
The New York Crank
Post a Comment