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Ugh.
Every once in awhile, a man must go to the mall with his girlfriend while she tries on dresses for this friend's wedding or that friend's engagement party. The stores at the mall usually have what I call the "Man Chair", that comfortable seat that lives next to the dressing rooms so that the hapless male has a place to be bored while he girlfriend spends hours trying on clothes. Going to see Sex and the City 2 is like going to the mall with your girl, only replace the Man Chair with a bed of nails and a 100-pound weight on your chest.
The HBO series focused on single ladies making their way in the big city, so even if you were turned off by the constant clothing fetishism of Kim Cattrall's fake cougar banter, you could at least get involved in some of the emotional turmoil the girls were going through trying to find their perfect men. Here, they've found them, so what's there to worry about? Well, how about finding their perfect men? Yep, Carrie got Mr. Big, but he's happy just to spend time at home. What a horrible guy. Well, listening to Carrie complain about his couch potatoness, you would think he was the worst husband ever. Charlotte has two kids, but seems overwhelmed. It probably doesn't help that she wears designer pants while making muffins. Miranda has to deal with a chauvinistic boss, and Samantha is, well, still Samantha, though she's trying to stave off menopause (that joke is funny in the beginning, but gets played out way too long). The girls end up jetting away to Abu Dhabi where they get into all types of shenanigans and wear fabulous clothes.
Where do I start with what's wrong with this movie? First off, these girls have gone from at times sympathetic single ladies to shrewish women. You know you're in trouble when your start to dream of stepping through the movie screen and telling these women to stop their damn complaining only 10 minutes into a two and a half hour movie. Oh, did I mention this film is TWO AND A HALF HOURS LONG!? The biggest problem of all is that the entire film is just an excuse to fetishize excess in all its forms, though mainly in form consuming: clothes, food, drink, apartment furnishings. The "issues" the women are having always take a backseat to what clothes they are wearing or what they'll be drinking. Hopefully, the filmmakers will realize that these ladies have reached the end of the line. If they end up making another film, I'll take the bed of nails over watching another Sex and the City film any day.