Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Sex and Southland

I confess I did it. I went and saw Sex and the City. I snuck out on Tuesday night to the 9.30pm session at Southland. I went all alone and God was I glad I did. It meant I didn’t have to sit amidst the throngs but got the lovely solo back-of-the-room seat (okay, it’s for people accompanying those in wheelchairs but was completely unneeded on the night!) so I could ooh and ahh in private. Oh the shame.

Darren Starr and Michael Patrick King really have created a chick phenomenon here. I actually almost welled up when the four besties appeared on the screen in the opening shot. As she who goes by the name ‘Dreamweaver’ when on the web ( described it, it was like seeing old friends arrive at the airport.

While Carrie sniffed her library book (I am an obsessive book sniffer) and decided New York Public Library was her dream wedding venue (I hulk my fat behind around the local track in my NYPC t-shirt and took about 800 photos of the light fittings when I was there last year) I realised what a Sex in the City tragic I was. Ah, to be part of the masses. I guess you have to think about it positively … concentrate on that sense of belonging.
Of course one does like to delve a little deeper to try and work out what makes this movie and series so popular. Besides all the obvious blah blah about the fact that 8 million women wish they looked/dressed/ate/drank/shopped/bonked etc like various characters in the show, there has always been the snappy dialogue to applaud and the regular insights into the pecadillos that make us, while still part of the masses, still our own individual little psychotic selves. (Hence, the book sniffing.)
Of course, because of early onset chronic memory loss syndrome (AKA too much booze as a teenager, young woman and verging on middle aged woman), I am not going to be able to wow you now with examples from the film but I cannot tell you how many times the following line from the series comes to my mind. It is linked to the period where Miranda - post baby - is going to weight watchers. She dates and sleeps with a fellow 'watcher' who has the disturbing habit of going down on her, coming up for air covered in (cover your ears) juices, and then wants to give her a nice big kiss on the lips. She is horrified. Carrie says, "She's going out with an overeater ... and he over ate her." Laugh! I nearly started.

And, further and last confession, I am going to see the film again when up in Byron Bay in a fortnight so Mrs R and I can moon over the Buddakan rehearsal dinner scene because, yes, we dined there. OK! Enough already.
PS: Fun website/blog to visit if you're into film and TV insider topics: - they're bitchy, be warned.

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