Sex And The City: The Movie review

Ever bump into an ex, agree to a coffee, and then suffer through two hours of me, me, me – with baby pictures? It’s not that you don’t care, it’s just that it’s over and the reality doesn’t match up with your memories. Of course, if you’re still infatuated you might actually enjoy this experience. Sex And The City: The Movie is a love letter to itself, a great big group hug for the fans.

It’s been fours years, but it might as well be yesterday: Charlotte (Kristin Davis) is blissfully married. Samantha (Kim Cattrall) is making a go of it in Hollywood with her hunk; Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is still married as much to her job as to her partner, Steve (David Eigenberg), and Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) is crazy about Mr Big (Chris Noth).

As a starting point, “happily ever after” has its disadvantages, and for a long time it seems like the movie is just going to be an endless round of cocktails and penthouse envy. There’s not even any sex to speak of. Then Carrie and Big decide to make it official and – not to give anything away – the wedding hits a snag. This development is treated with the kind of slo-mo hysteria filmmakers usually reserve for natural disasters, last-minute sports victories or shoot-outs in maternity wards. But it’s a crisis the gals handle in characteristic fashion: taking time out for a supportive five-star vacation in the sun.

That’s not the last of the heartache. These perennial good time girls have grown up a little – these days they’re more consumed with a four-letter word beginning with ‘L’ – but it’s not necessarily an improvement that they take themselves so seriously. Writer-director Michael Patrick King (an old hand from the series) isn’t about to dig too deep when glib and superficial have always been Carrie’s watchwords. The result will strike anyone who isn’t already a signed-up member of the club as a sentimental swansong for a sitcom that’s passed its prime.