Sex and the City: The Movie is essentially an overlong episode, hyped to a slavering frenzy by a media that flogs the same pricy clothes and niggling discontent with one's lot in life that the TV show offered. The feature length version ticks all of the requisite boxes… shiny hair, shiny clothes, long-angle shots so we can see everyone's shoes at all times, and men with good jobs and underwritten personalities. The four female stars are the same, albeit looking a bit more haggard; particularly Carrie, whose contrived girlishness jars all the more now that she is looking a lot more her age. The events are basically the same too: the four girls arguing, hugging and generally being there for each other, via a lot of whining about their exceptionally comfortable lives. It begins with a quick recap (reminding us of the girls' dual aspirations in life; "labels and love"), proceeds through a few wedding montages, the plot twist (which I wont give away, but have a guess… yep, that's it) and finishes with a few lessons – hopefully learned – in a lot of outfits. Carrie has played the victim a few too many times by now – her damsel-in-distress languishing is dislikeable, as she lolls about wanly in a frock or nine, making hoarse-throated demands of her hand-wringing friends. The subplots are underwritten, though arguably more interesting; Miranda struggles with marriage, Samantha with monogamy, and Oscar-winner Jennifer Hudson appears in the unnecessary role of Carrie's assistant, a token reference to New York's diversity in the girls' otherwise entirely white world. The feeling is very much that the musical montages of Carrie preening and moping in outfits came first, with the plot sketched around them as an afterthought. A flaccid effort, unlikely to impress.
