Sex and the Summer

Caught the 12:40 matinee of Sex and the City at the local multiplex. The theater was packed with women who all seemed to be acquainted. They knew each other’s names. They shouted merrily. It was odd.

I wondered, what do these people ordinarily do at lunchtime on weekdays?

The ticket taker was enjoying the commotion. “Theater 14 for Sex!” he shouted happily, tearing stubs.

The HBO series featured Carrie and Miranda and Charlotte and Samantha looking for love; in the movie, they’ve found it, and they have to figure out what to do now. They get kind of lost, and so does the film, with a painful plotline that only occasionally makes sense. It’s the kind of story that falls apart if you talk about it too much on the way home in the car.

Nevertheless, the movie delivers, mostly in the second half, with lots of emotional confrontations and reconciliations and romantic moments that arrive without any subtlety exactly when you expect them. This pleased the audience, they sighed and applauded on cue; it was what they came for, like the series finale all over again.

But what’s missing here is the supporting cast, the friends and lovers who created the challenges that made the show interesting; most of them have little to do in the film besides show up. Instead the writers fill all that screen time with fashion – Sarah Jessica Parker gets to play model through two long montages – and glittering Manhattan locations, and oddly graphic sex scenes that take you right out of the lighthearted tone of the film.

But never mind. If that matinee audience was any indicator, this film will make fans of the show very happy. The ticket takers will have fun too.