Last night, as part of a ‘girl’s night’, four of us vagina-endowed plebs went to see SATC2. Er, for those of you unaware, that’s Sex and the City 2. Earlier in the day, I was doing my usual news perusing online, and happened across the headline ‘Sex and the City 2: Carrie and friends head to the Middle East in a misjudged and incredibly boring sequel’, accompanied by a one-star review. Not terribly surprised by such a critical response, I opted not to read the full article and see for myself just how bad it was.
A few things. I like SATC. It’s frivolous entertainment, nothing more. I can’t say it changed my life or anything, but it was good TV and I grew to love the characters (Carrie, the least). A gaggle of us went and saw the first movie a couple years ago, and I wasn’t terribly impressed with it. Of course, getting to the theatre late (one too many cocktails beforehand) and having to sit in the front-row didn’t help.
Gift Bags for the Hags
Anyways, the historic art-deco Tuschinski theatre in Amsterdam was hosting ‘Ladies Night’ to premiere the film. The theatre, with two balconies, was sold-out…hordes of women (many dressed in their highest stillettos…me included) piled in. Our hands were stuffed with flyers for teeth whitening, The Leg Bag (google it, errr), ‘cocktails’ (more cordial than vodka) and vanilla cupcakes piled high with cott0n-candy coloured frosting (fyi, nowhere near as good as mine).
We took our seats in the 4th row, and sat through 30 minutes of prize draws (our entourage went home empty-handed), rifling through the ‘loot’ bag left on our seats filled with Dutch fashion mags (I took out the free samples), John Frieda Curl Ease (all but one of us had bone-straight hair), a bag of popcorn, a box of tea, and trial sizes of shampoo and cellulite-cream.
Okay, the film…beware of spoilers.
HEY, GAY MARRIAGE, OK? WE SAID…GAY MARRIAGE!
The first scene was all about Stanford and Anthony’s wedding. The OTT-ness of the whole thing was entertaining, but the use of the phrase ‘gay marriage’…probably said by every character on-screen about 6 times each, maybe 30 times in total, was a bit much. OK, we get it…it’s ass-backwards that gay marriage is illegal in 45 U.S. states. Saying, “gay marriage, gay wedding, gay gay gay gay” in every line – WE GET IT. Liza Minnelli as the ‘minister’ was cute, as was her rendition of Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’, and I gotta say…I’d rather a Liza’s gams than SJP’s spindly twigs.
SATC2 is Brought to you by the Abu Dhabi Tourism Board
So, long story short. Sam gets a call from Smith (his very brief cameo producing a wave of audible glee in the theatre). He’s in Abu Dhabi working on a new film and wants Sam (who is at her desk applying hormone cream to her vagina to stave off menopause) to accompany him to the premiere in NYC. Sam agrees, brings the girls, shares a lame scene with Miley Cyrus, and Smith introduces her to the producers of the film, hello, two rich dudes from the Emirates. One of them, your typical Arab gazillionaire, invites Sam (and therefore, Charlotte, Miranda and Carrie) on an all-expenses paid trip to Abu Dhabi to check-out his new hotel.
Riding Camels in Dior
Off the girls go to the ‘new’ Middle East, full of luxury and opulence and all things amazingly glam…blah, blah, blah. Control-freak Miranda learns some Arab, Charlotte is paranoid about leaving her hot bra-hating nanny alone with Runkle, er, Harry, Carrie stresses about the newly introduced ‘2-day alone time per week rule’ introduced by Big before she left, and Sam freaks out because customs took away her arsenal of anti-menopause meds. And then you get 20 minutes of ‘Abu Dhabi is amazing. Abu Dhabi is the future. That woman is eating french fries under her veil. Oh, we’re different, but we’re the same. Sex is taboo. Oh, why doesn’t everyone visit Abu Dhabi, etc., etc,. ad nauseum. Sam gets thrown in prison for making out with some hot Dane businessman and then freaks out during a prayer call in a busy market and tosses condoms around. Their host cuts off his hospitality and OH MY GOD WE ONLY HAVE ONE HOUR TO PACK, the end. Yep, there were more laughs than expected (wearing near-couture Dior on camels, sunglasses on a stick) and an mildly-endearing/elitest scene between Charlotte and Miranda admitting that motherhood is hard. Add to the mix one horrendous karaoke scene and a happy ending. The end.