Sex and the City 2

Chances are if you are reading this you fall into one of two camps. Either you feel obliged to see the latest film for the sake of continuity (holler!) or are so resolutely anti-Sex and the City that you will never see this. Therefore no matter the opinion expressed here, there is no real damage to the potential box office, so let this review commence.

As a reviewer this was hardly going to be impartial having purchased each of the DVD box-sets. As shows went it was the equivalent of comfort food, except that you could gorge and gorge without the guilt. Yet there was some trepidation on the walk into the cinema since the first film had been such a profound slip from the TV show meaning the second film could slip even further. Sadly this was well justified, but the scale of the slip was more shocking than anticipated.

What made the show great was that although this foursome were undeniably elitist and had the life that most of us can only dream of, they were still well-rounded and profoundly human. There was something in at least one of the characters that a viewer was able to relate to and as such you really cared about them and probably mourned the loss of a good friend when the show ended back in 2004. Sex and the City 2, however, found a way to dehumanise all bar one of them (Miranda being the exception) for the majority of the time.

While this could be taken as a dig at the acting, this is not the case since they do a good a job with what they are given. The fault has to lie completely in the script written by Michael Patrick King, which is not only exceedingly shallow, but also predictable and borderline racist. The choice to set such a comedy in the United Arab Emirates just boggled the mind as surely a more open country would have been a better choice to lampoon. Yes, there is some beautiful scenery but the ‘wow’ factor wears off quickly. In the first film they trod a very fine line with Charlotte refusing to eat any food prepared in Mexico but here a lot of the ‘comedy’ is one step too far and leaves you squirming in your seat pleading for the embarrassment to end.

This is also not touching on how lame the jokes between the central four have become. It was the sharp wit present in these conversations that made us fall for them and yet they did not elicit any laughs from the audience, the biggest laugh belonging to a moment when an enraged Samantha angrily waved a pack of condoms in front of an angry crowd of Arabs. The fact that they have reduced a much beloved sitcom to the level of end of the pier humour which stereotypes women, homosexuals and Muslims is outrageous.

The fleeting moments that are able to touch upon something that is real and actually attempt to form a human connection cannot make up for what this film has done to this franchise. By becoming a cinematic equivalent of being left at the altar by the one you love, Sex and the City 2 has done the impossible, causing ripples of discontent amongst one of the most loyal fanbases. Congratulations Michael Patrick King: you just killed Sex and the City.

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