Denise was excited when I informed her we'd be attending the Atlanta premiere of Sex and the City on Tuesday night. My wife's not one to brag, but I could tell she was eagerly anticipating the movie. Exhibit A: She pulled out all the stops in getting a babysitter. Never had I seen the woman line one up so fast. Exhibit B: She kept asking if we shouldn't get our seats earlier. Exhibit C: A smile spread across her face when she told me how her co-workers were a touch envious: "Tessa said she doesn't want to know anything about the movie when I go back to work tomorrow. She doesn't even want to me to make a facial expression." Now I know how she feels when I make comments like, "Can you believe there's only a year left till the new Star Trek movie comes out?"
Then there was the theater-going experience associated with the film. Not only were there giveaways for such items as facials, manis and pedis, or a night on the town for "you and three of your favorite girlfriends", many a female fan arrived with said girlfriends in tow, dressed a little too fashion forward for a night at the movies, but looking ready to hit the bars and order a round of Cosmos (never mind that they're so 1998). I've seen Trekkies in their Captain Picard outfits at a premiere, the odd Stormtrooper on opening day of a Star Wars flick. I was even taken aback when someone showed up in full Indiana Jones regalia to Crystal Skull's premiere last week. But never did I foresee seeing clusters of otherwise ordinary women decked out so you could easily identify which one was the Miranda of the group, which one was the Carrie, etc. Anyway, out of respect for Tessa, and those women who hold Carrie Bradshaw and her friends' exploits so dear to their heart, I will do my best to review the film without any spoilers.
First of all, I am happy to report that the film survived its jump to the big screen without also jumping the shark. Rumors, which I won't directly address here but you know them if you've heard them, prove to be completely unfounded. The movie hits all the emotional notes that it should four years after leaving the TV airwaves, meaning you'll laugh a little, cry a little, but mostly you'll get to revisit what it felt like to curl up on the couch every Sunday night to catch the girls on HBO a few years back. Except they are not girls anymore. These women have left the fun single life they used to gripe about, and find that post-single life brings a whole new set of challenges.
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