Sometimes I’m glad I’m not a “professional” blogger, with sponsors to make happy and PR flacks to please and news releases about celebrities and products to flog. Sure, I’d like to write and read blogs for a living, but there are times when I think being a full-time blogger who relies on her blog for her livelihood would suck. The release of a movie like “Sex And the City 2” is one of those times.
See, if I was relying on this blog for my livelihood, I might have to publish stories that tie in with SATC2’s marketing campaign, like “How to Get Carrie’s Hair” or “Charlotte’s Perfect Makeup” or “Samantha’s Still-Active Va-Jay-Jay.” (OK, maybe not the last one.) That would kill me, because the Sex and the City franchise sucks in general, and this latest movie very specifically.
I haven’t even seen it. I don’t have to. I can smell that shit from miles away. I find the whole concept of it shallow and offensive. But just in case you don’t believe me, there are lots of honest reviews you can check out. Like this one. Or this, this, and this. Or, most hilariously, THIS, which is the best of all. (That last one, by Lindy West at The Stranger, is getting a lot of press and link love, so it may take a really long time to load.)
I used to watch SATC on HBO. The first few seasons were fun. By the last two or so, it was getting old, or maybe I was just growing up, because I didn’t find it compelling anymore. I think by the time the series finally gasped its last, everyone was pretty much ready to be done with it. Then they came out with the first movie, which I didn’t see until it was on cable. I was not impressed. It wasn’t awful, but it certainly wasn’t the kind of thing I’d get dressed and leave the house for either. I think we can all agree that a sequel was COMPLETELY unnecessary. Seriously. Come on.
The big problem with movies like SATC2, and similar fluff like “Confessions of a Shopaholic,” is their tone-deafness. The country is in a recession, for Christ’s sake. Some people have been unemployed for two years now, and everyone is making sacrifices. Somehow, watching two hours of shallow, logo-flogging, conspicuous consumption just doesn’t make me feel any better, and it seems to not be helpful to most other hard-working folks either. There was a lot of talk about how in the Great Depression, Hollywood produced lots of lavish musicals and entertainment designed to help people “forget their problems” and “escape into a dream world.” But I don’t think it works anymore. We’ve moved on as a society, and most of us can’t relate, and don’t WANT to relate, to the shallow old hags of Sex and the City.