Friday, 4 June 2010

How the mighty have fallen

Meeting your idol and discovering they're not nearly as cool as you'd imagined must surely rank as one of life's more disappointing experiences.

In much the same way that watching sassy, sexy women you once revered reduced to a bunch of overdressed airheads in need of a decent script is.

Last night we went to see Sex and the City 2. Being car-less, this meant a cross-town schlep on the distinctly unglamorous No 1 bus to a nondescript multiplex in the unsexy location of Cribbs Causeway. But Husband's lovely work colleagues had taken pity on friendless Shazzy and invited her to join them in viewing the latest exploits of Carrie and co. I tried, and failed miserably, not to think about the first SATC film when, after dining and cocktailing at Chow in Tory Street, a group of my BFFs skipped between the puddles to snuggle into the big, squishy seats at Courtenay Central's Cine Lounge and gush over the clothes, the city and the blatent product placement.

But that was then and this is now: having been in Bristol less than a month and able to count the number of locals I know on less than one hand, it would have been churlish to refuse Husband's colleagues' invitation.

Besides, as a long time fan of the TV show and someone who loved the first movie enough to repeatedly watch a Hong Kong-bought copy, I wanted to see how the Manhattanites were faring as wives, mothers and women whose ages were now so high they were surely in danger of getting vertigo.

Not well, it would seem. I’m not sure where Michael Patrick King's head is at – or just how badly the economic skies have fallen in for the quartet and ring-ins such as Penelope Cruz and Liza Minnelli – but dear God people, what were you thinking? There’s not much sex, not enough city and a plotline so thin it would make Kate Moss look obese. Sure there were some laughs but swapping Abu Dhabi for New York doesn't obscure the fact that you've got nothing left to say.

The best line comes near the end when Carrie and her once relevant sistahs stand on the steps of their flash hotel waiting to be driven to the airport. Instead of the white limos that ferried them in, a pair of broken-down old taxis turn up. “Oh how the mighty have fallen,” sighs Carrie.

How right you are Ms Bradshaw.....

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