Sex and the City 2

I never got the whole 'Sex & the City' hoopla. Maybe because I'm not a woman. It's a show about spoiled rich women sleeping their way through the New York phonebook. Then women identify with them and, with their friends, they talk about who's Samantha and who's whatever the other names are.

I did watch a couple of the TV shows and although I didn't love them, I admit they were well written. But why I put myself through two hours and twenty minutes of this sequel, God only knows. Well, okay, it was mostly to have material to write this review.

The dialogue's stilted, you can see what line they thought were funny, but they're not. Seriously, tell me if that's funny:
'There ought to be a law against hiring a nanny like that.'
'Yeah. The Jude Law.'

Even the characters looked in pain while giggling to that. Later, they even dare mention this, calling it 'a joke' and 'funny.'

And... 'Abu Dhabi Do?' Really?

For a story to work, you need conflict. And you need an actualy freakin' story! 15 minutes in, you still don't know what the film will be about, except spoiled women attending a gay wedding. At this point, I figure they just dropped all pretense of a story, they get the actors together, have them talk and wait for the throngs of women, their boyfriends/husbands (who got dragged there against the threat of cutting sex for a month), and gay guys to pay their 10 bucks and pretend to love it. They could stare at the poster and they'd still love it.
And then the plot starts: it will be about a baby! Oh, wait. No. False alert. Still no plot.
23 minutes in. It's about growing older next to perky buxom blondes!
Oh, wait. No. Still no plot. Maybe in the end it will be about how the red head hates her job and can't see her kid grow up (super original). Oh. No. She quits immediately.

In the end, it's about falling into a routine as a couple, it's about being jealous of the nanny, it's about growing old. And it's about the four ladies going to Abu Dhabi.
Much fun ensues... Like a karaoke with all of the girls! Oh, how exciting! And fun! This is awesome!
Wait, no. It's not.
And then they all share an 'awww' moment when one of them says 'we're soulmates.' Awww.

Seriously, that's the whole story. 2 hours and 20 minutes of exactly that. One has problems with her husband, one is afraid her husband will cheat on her with the (quite hot) nanny, one doesn't have her anti-aging drugs. The other does fuck all except look like a red-head. And they're all in the Middle East. And because someone finally understood that there was no plot, they introduce an old flame in the middle of the souk. Yawn.

I'm glad they do show how Indians work for a pitance in the middle of the super-luxury world of the super rich. But then what could have been a meaningful message gets diluted into a 'parable' for couples living apart. Yawn.

The actors are for the most part good ones, as was shown in other films or TV series. But in this film, they stand, walk and deliver their lines as if the film was directed by a gym teacher for a school play.

And I almost lost my breakfast when Liza Minnelli started singing a Beyonce song. Seriously, this happens in this film.
This film is so white, that even a Beyonce song is sung by an old white woman. Seriously, don't they have minorities in New York? I guess not.
Also, apparently straight guys can't shave or tie a tie. That's how you know they're straight and single in the world of rich bitches who live like Republicans and pretend to be Democrats.

In 10 years, I'd like to see 'Sex & The City 5,' with the three girls (yeah, one of them will be dead. I won't say how or who, I'll just say it involves a slow painful death by STDs. Yes: plural.) in a nursing home, dumped there by their ungrateful children, who took the money and are now sleeping their way through the New York phonebook. They'll be making jokes about the lumps in the tapioca and their artificial hips. And then they all get euthanized and their dreams come true: their skins are used by Vera Wang to make fuck-me pumps. But twist ending: they end up in the bargain bin of a Marshall's.

PS: Is it just me, or does S. J. Parker's character dress like a millionaire hobo?
PPS: How spoiled are you when you HAVE to leave the country right NOW to make sure you'll be in first class?