Sex and the City
As Carrie Bradshaw might say – ‘I couldn’t help but wonder how four ageing divas were going to resurrect Sex and the City: The Brand’. Is it possible that Charlotte, Samantha, Carrie and Miranda could pull off the same level of attraction that they did when they were footloose and fancy free, now that the more mundane developments of marriage and children have caught up with the pin-ups, for single women everywhere? The answer is a cackling yes. And these women still cackle, a lot. The plot boasts few surprises but what is a welcome revelation is that the movie is not an extended episode down the catwalk streets of New York City. The characters are fleshed out, the preened edges have worn down somewhat and the individual angst of each woman (apart from Charlotte, who is in essence a pretty, vacuous doll) is realised enough to engage even the hardened cynics. The actresses for once embrace their age and their insecurities rather than covering it up with expensive foundation.
Like life the film isn’t perfect. The beginning recap is clumsy and overdone, the ending is rushed and too neat, and the version of feminist power and female solidarity the film peddles is slightly simplistic, but then we’re not here for reality. A few years on from packing away the series in a tissue filled shoebox, thousands of women have been waiting for SATC to return to give them hope in possible love and impossible fashion. Well, the shoe still fits and the wait has been worth it.
Out now on general release.