Getting Carried Away

After much anticipation, Sex & The City 2 finally came out on the big screen. The iconic HBO television show is a personal favorite, and I must admit that I recently re-watched all six seasons. The first film was magnificent. I saw it three times in theaters and cried about eight

times during the first viewing and still cry from all sorts of overwhelming emotions that only my favorite New Yorkers can deliver. To this day, I can hardly bear to watch Mr. Big stand Carrie up on her wedding day, but in the end it all works out in a very fantastic, yet realistic, finish. I cannot say this about the film’s recent sequel.

Yes, SATC2 had all of the glitz and glamour and glitter that I could have hoped for... and that’s about it. The writing made the television show witty and unforgettable, but it was the writing that completely destroyed my high hopes for this film. All it took was the first line of the movie to sink my heart – beads? Really, Carrie? You’re opening your sequel by talking about beads? I’m sorry… but no. WTF!? Yes, the movie had some of my favorite female characters of all time and yes, there were select hilarious moments, but the movie bared little resemblance to the beloved television show we all fell in love with. Absolutely everything in the plot was extraordinarily over-the-top. Too much over-the-top. Like Disneyland for adults on ecstasy over-the-top. I could handle the extravagant (but hilarious) Liza Minnelli wedding performance, I could deal with the really hot lesbian nanny that doesn’t wear a bra, and the black diamond that Big gives Carrie at the end because she’s “unlike any other woman.” I could maybe even support the complimentary trip to Abu-Dhabi, because, let’s face it, if Samantha Jones can’t do it then who can? I put up with those glittery fantasies, because they were lively, comical and didn’t totally push my buttons. I could not, however, comfortably sit through the horrible and completely uncreative karaoke song choice or the Muslim women wearing crazy high fashion outfits underneath their burkas in 100+ degree weather. I get that the sequel was trying to emphasize women empowerment, which I'm all for, but it was cheesy and way too cliche. The karaoke scene actually almost ruined it for me. The only thing that made me ever want to see this movie again was the hotter than hot, sex on a stick, hunky men – deliciously dapper Nicky (Noah Mills) and the unforgettably orgasmic Rikard Spirit (Max Ryan)... Um, like, I don’t even know what else to say because just the mere thought of Mr. Max Ryan has me biting my bottom lip in sexual frustration. Hot damn.

All in all, the sequel got a little too “Carried away.”

I give it a generous C