Barkeep, a round of (virtual) cosmos on me. The summer’s ultimate chick flick Sex and the City came, saw and trampled the competition with its six-inch Manolos this weekend. With an estimated $55 million weekend take, the film trounced expectations to become the biggest opening romantic comedy in box office history. But the question remains: Was the Sex any good?

Yes … and, no, but, mostly, yes. At two hours and 25 minutes, the film is arguably about 45 minutes too long. Still, I actually had the proverbial “I laughed, I cried” reaction. (I did laugh, and I did cry.) And, for the most part, I had a pretty good time. It was like slipping on a really nice, really expensive, really familiar pair of shoes. The film played out like the show’s seventh season simultaneously down and blown up.

Everything is bigger and more fabulous in the film: the clothes, the shoes, the purses, the apartments, the locations. Money has become, truly, no obstacle. And while the eye candy is impressive, it has never been why I watched the series. I have never —not once —lusted after a designer handbag.

[WARNING: Plot spoilers below. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, best to skedaddle. If you have, pour yourself another cocktail and let’s talk.]

So, what worked? The friendships. Ten years after we first met them Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha are still the reason Sex and the City works. The chemistry between the women still feels organic. So when they’re together, there is a shorthand and ease there that makes you believe you’re eavesdropping on a group of longtime friends.

What else worked? The interplay of humor and heart. The bon mots were, as always, wonderfully clever. Sometimes I wish I could hire the SATC writers to pen a week’s worth of witticisms for me, so I too could go around dropping hilarity gems. But at its heart the film is about the women’s relationships, both with each other and the men in their lives. … continue reading