Mars23 said:

My sister-in-law made me go see The Devil Wears Prada with her and my brother and I thought it wasn't terrible. Apparently there will be no such silver linings with this movie.

JustErin said:

Miranda is my favorite character on the show She's crass as HELL, she makes the most sense (most of the time) & she gets some of the best lines

"I just ate chocolate cake from the garbage!"

CalhounSq said:

One of my favorites!!

some of the best one liners came from the fight between Carrie and Aidan...

PaisleyPark5083 said:

Oh yes, I just remembered why I would watch it when I saw it was on.

I love John Corbett.

JustErin said:

Aidan was my favorite after Big. I hated Alexander, Berger and The Jazz guy!!

PaisleyPark5083 said:

I liked Berger for some reason... & the jazz guy was okay (didn't he only last 2 episodes, or was it 1??)...

CalhounSq said:

I only remember him in one, and I loved watching Big's face when they were in the taxi ride home.

PaisleyPark5083 said:

I don't know enough about his character on this show but I thought he was hot as fuck in Northern Exposure - he's simply the only reason I watched it and I would tune out when he wasn't on screen.

But back to SATC. I totally don't get the whole Big appeal, he's not even attractive - like at all.

JustErin said:

When Aiden turned around w/ that baby strapped to his belly THAT was the best revenge EVER John Corbett is cute...

Big isn't all that, but he is tall & charming & has presence - I can see why she'd be all giddy

JustErin said:

his persona was awesome, he was strong and he didn't give her "his all." He was not one of those guys who follow you around like a puppy.

Wasn't he a total fucking asshole with her?

JustErin said:

yeah, he had his moments when he was an ass, and even went off to marry someone else, after he told her he did not want a commitment.

PaisleyPark5083 said:

And people are happy they are together now??

Oh man, sounds like this movie might just give hope to all the women who hang in there hoping a dude will eventually come around.

Erin, who is your Mr. Big? Do you have one?

JustErin said:

What I got out of it was he is great because he is rich. When I saw the trailer and he proposes and offers her anything, what does she want? "A big closet". I was just severely put off by that scene.

JustErin said:

watch this: this is where Big tells her he is engaged.

jaimestarr79 said:

No. I had one a long time ago...and when he came back a few years ago I used him for sex then stopped it at that because I didn't want to be with him anymore.

PaisleyPark5083 said:

I don't have sound at work.

I'll have to watch it at home.

I bet this movie is going to suck. The show when it originally came out was hilarious. The best one was when Samantha when to a masterbation seminar. Did anybody see that episode?

jaimestarr79 said:

is that the one where all 4 of the girls go to some old ladies house and watch her pleasure her old husband, Dr. something or other?

http://omg.yahoo.com/sex-...os/1924?nc

New pics from Manhattan...:






[Edited 5/28/08 20:22pm]

VenusBlingBling said:

everyone looks gorgeous!! and no goofy hat on Sarah Jessica Parker!

Mars23 said:

Any straight guy who goes to this should turn in his man card.

The hype for this is insane. Every news channel in NYC is treating this like it's the friggin' 'Godfather'.

uPtoWnNY said:

I would not want to watch this movie with my husband, he would be maulking it the whole time! This is a chick film people, I will attend with my girlfriends.

Finally! My 3 bestfriends and I were able to see this movie! (last week one of my friends was out of town with her sick Mother, we dared not see it without her!)

I love love loved it!! It was better then I had hoped for, I was so scared that I was going to be disappointed because of all the hoopla and and anticipation. But thank god, it lived up to my wildest dreams! I won't spoil it for anyone who has not seen it, go see it!!! And for all the people that rag on Sarah Jessica Parker for not being beautiful enough to play the part of Carrie-- My god, she looked beyond gorgeous in all her outfits! Of course there are a few outfits that you could not help but giggle at, but when she was trying on all the wedding dresses for Vogue, everyone in the theatre was gasping!
I could not believe the lovely mixture of people in the theatre, straight men with their wives, old couples new couples, everything you could imagine. I can't wait to see it again!!

PaisleyPark5083 said:

I had to wait a damn WEEK to see it, just didn't have time opening weekend. I liked it - yes they tread the same ground as always BUT it was enjoyable. I thought they had Steve (the actor) overacting, he was just too fucking emotional for me. I laughed nearly every time he was on screen (the confession, the bridge) & I LIKE Steve!!

**SPOILERS!!** I also thought Carrie took Big back a little too easily after such an embarrassment. Maybe I'd cave too after his gesture but what a fucking lame reason to do what he did! I'm trying to talk in code for anyone who hasn't seen it yet. Good flick...

This is my review I wrote on another forum :

I'm half half.

I feel like I "got" what the movie was doing, but I just wonder if the rest of the female population did.

Like, afterwards, I wanted to go out and be with my friends, but I wondered if my friend wanted the same thing or whether she just wanted to go out and be fashionable.

I really wish the movie didn't have to be drowned in perkiness and fashion. Why couldn't they just be?

But at the same time there were aspects I loved, like my complete hero now, SAMANTHA FUCKING JONES!

I was almost cheering in nearly all of her scenes and I was REALLY glad she didn't cheat with that slutty next door neighbor of hers. I HATED when the gay guy poked fun at her weight but I liked how the girls dealt with the issue of it. I liked how they handled the gay relationship too - low key, short and sweet nothing MAJOR about it. Just normal.

I was reluctant about Carrie getting back with Big til he sent "his" letter, the "I will love you forever" one. THAT was the right thing to do.

I do think Carrie overreacted a little bit in the wedding scene because Big was ready to come back and get married...I don't get why she went ballistic at him...

I was SO glad they had the low key wedding though, as much as that dress was beautiful...it was tooooo about the dress.

So all in all, I enjoyed it and it was fun and made me feel good, I just REALLY hope all women walk away from it not wanting to go shopping but just wanting to be with the people they care about and learn from that. *tear*

8/10 for me.

Now, I'm not saying I agree with the following, as I have yet to see the movie, but this is by far the most entertaining review I've read (from The New Yorker):

“Sex and the City.”
by Anthony Lane JUNE 9, 2008
Secrecy has clouded “Sex and the City” since it was first announced. When would the film appear? Who would find a husband? Would one of the main characters die? If so, would she commit suicide by self-pity (a constant threat), or would a crocodile escape from the Bronx Zoo and wreak a flesh-ripping revenge for all those handbags? As the release date neared, the paranoia thickened; at the screening I attended, we were asked not only to surrender our cell phones but to march through a beeping security gate, as if boarding a plane to Tel Aviv. There was even a full-body pat-down, by far the biggest turn-on of the night.

Not a drop of the forthcoming plot had been leaked in advance, but I took a wild guess. “Apparently,” I said to the woman behind me in line, “some of the girls have problems with their men, break up for a while, and then get back together again.” “Oh, my God!” she cried. “How do you know?”

What followed was not strictly a movie. It was more like a TV show on steroids. The televised episodes, which ran from 1998 to 2004, lasted for no more than half an hour each. So, spare a thought for the director of the film, Michael Patrick King, who also wrote the screenplay. Faced with the flimsiest of concepts, he had to take it by both ends and pull until he stretched it out to two and a quarter hours. Two and a quarter! When Garbo made “Anna Karenina,” in 1935, she got happy, unhappy, loved, left, and under the train in less than a hundred minutes, so how the hell are her successors supposed to fill the time?

To be fair, there are four of them—banded together, like hormonal hobbits, and all obsessed with a ring. As the story begins, two are married already. First, there is Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), who has a job, a child, and not enough sex with her husband, Steve (David Eigenberg), perhaps because he reminds her of Radar, from “M*A*S*H.” Then comes Charlotte (Kristin Davis), who is blissfully wedded to—well, what is she wedded to, exactly? He goes by the name of Harry (Evan Handler), but he’s a ringer for Dr. Evil, from the “Austin Powers” franchise, with all the evil sucked away; what remains is fey and shiny-headed, smiling sweetly about something known only to himself. For a movie about the need for real men—lusty, loyal, and loaded—this unusual earthling is truly a most peculiar advertisement for the gender.

Next, we have Samantha (Kim Cattrall). Everyone has Samantha, or had her at some point; so she would like us to believe, and this is where the film of “Sex and the City” begins to part company with the original. The TV show was smart enough to trade on both the sentimentality and the shockability of its viewers, encouraging them to sigh at romantic satisfaction while snickering at the dirty talk that gave it spice. Behind it all, one caught a whiff of stale Puritanism: despite the women’s knowing bid for urbanity, there was an old-school, anti-sophisticated wish to put desire in its proper place, or, better still, to disperse it in a shared public giggle, for fear of where it might lead. Now the whiff has become a blast, and Samantha’s efforts to signal her appeal, which might have seemed languorous on the small screen, are blown up here into an embarrassing semaphore: thudding closeups of her slurping through a cocktail straw or swallowing a mouthful of guacamole. No self-respecting maker of soft erotica would countenance such shots, and, as for the matching dialogue (“Something just came up,” Samantha murmurs over the phone, as her boyfriend stands beside her in bulging briefs), it’s a straight lift from flaccid, mid-period James Bond. In a daring plot development, she buys a dog the size of a child’s slipper; the camera keeps cutting away to it, and guess what—the pooch screws, too! Mirth is unconfined.

I was never sure how funny the TV series was meant to be. It kept lapsing into a straight face, even a weepy one, as the characters’ contentment came under serious threat. This uncertainty survives into the movie, which made me laugh precisely once, as a magazine editor let fly with a Diane Arbus gag. It is no coincidence that she is played by Candice Bergen, who gets just the one scene, but who is nonetheless the only bona-fide movie star on show. You cannot simply shift a load of television actors onto a movie screen and expect them to command its greater expanse; only one in a thousand will be able to summon that mysterious confluence of presence and reserve on which stardom relies—the will both to offer oneself to the camera and yet to keep back the hidden, unguessable sources of that self. We should not be surprised, therefore, that Kim Cattrall’s come-ons wilt in the transition; but who would have guessed that Sarah Jessica Parker, a nimble performer who has had a career in movies aside from the TV show, should also seem diminished and ill at ease?

She plays Carrie, the writer whose voice-overs keep us up to speed with the doings of her friends, and with the reckless amassing of what she calls “the two Ls: labels and love.” Whether Carrie is able to acknowledge how tightly the two Ls lock together in her mind is another matter. Early in the film, she receives a proposal of marriage from her long-term boyfriend, Mr. Big (Chris Noth), and this triggers a Babylonian orgy of spending. In a montage of wedding-dress fittings, she honors “new friends like Vera Wang and Carolina Herrera and Christian Lacroix, Lanvin and Dior,” and so on; what I object to is not the name-dropping—think of it as a chick response to “American Psycho”—but the montage itself, which is shot in lazy veils of schmaltz. Compare the quick-change sequence in “Funny Face,” with Audrey Hepburn robed in one Givenchy masterpiece after another, and you sense not merely the greater snap in Stanley Donen’s direction (with more than a hand from Richard Avedon), and the hotter bloom of the coloring, but the way in which Hepburn herself outglows the frocks, with her smile and her imperious shout—“Take the picture, take the picture!” No thoroughbred was ever just a clotheshorse.

The women in “Sex and the City,” by that standard, are little better than also-rans, and their gallops of conspicuous consumption seem oddly joyless, as displacement activities tend to be. “When Samantha couldn’t get off, she got things,” Carrie says. Look at the beam in your own eye, sister. Mr. Big not only buys her a penthouse apartment (“I got it”), he offers to customize the space for her shoes and other fetishes. “I can build you a better closet,” he says, as if that were a binding condition of their sexual harmony: if he builds it, she will come. The creepiest aspect of this sequence was the sound that rose from the audience as he displayed the finished closet: gasps, fluttering moans, and, beside me, two women applauding. The tactic here is basically pornographic—arouse the viewer with image upon image of what lies just beyond her reach—and the film makes feeble attempts to rein it in. When the wedding hits a bump (look out for Kristin Davis screaming “No! No!” at Chris Noth like a ninth grader auditioning for “The Crucible”), and the bridegroom veers away, our heroine’s reaction to the split is typical: “How am I going to get my clothes?” What, honey, even the puffball skirt that you wear to the catwalk show—the one that makes you look like a giant inverted mushroom? That plea gets second prize for the most revealing line in the film, the winner being Miranda’s outburst as she hunts for an apartment in a mainly Chinese district: “White guy with a baby! Let’s follow him.” So that’s what drives these people: Aryan real estate.

At least, you could argue, Miranda has a job, as a lawyer. But the film pays it zero attention, and the other women expect her to drop it and fly to Mexico without demur. (And she does.) Worse still is the sneering cut as the scene shifts from Carrie, carefree and childless in the New York Public Library, to the face of Miranda’s young son, smeared with spaghetti sauce. In short, to anyone facing the quandaries of being a working mother, the movie sends a vicious memo: Don’t be a mother. And don’t work. Is this really where we have ended up—with this superannuated fantasy posing as a slice of modern life? On TV, “Sex and the City” was never as insulting as “Desperate Housewives,” which strikes me as catastrophically retrograde, but, almost sixty years after “All About Eve,” which also featured four major female roles, there is a deep sadness in the sight of Carrie and friends defining themselves not as Bette Davis, Anne Baxter, Celeste Holm, and Thelma Ritter did—by their talents, their hats, and the swordplay of their wits—but purely by their ability to snare and keep a man. Believe me, ladies, we’re not worth it. It’s true that Samantha finally disposes of one paramour, but only with a view to landing another, and her parting shot is a beauty: “I love you, but I love me more.” I have a terrible feeling that “Sex and the City” expects us not to disapprove of that line, or even to laugh at it, but to exclaim in unison, “You go, girl.” I walked into the theatre hoping for a nice evening and came out as a hard-line Marxist, my head a whirl of closets, delusions, and blunt-clawed cattiness. All the film lacks is a subtitle: “The Lying, the Bitch, and the Wardrobe.”

Saw it, nice movie. Beautiful wedding dress.