Ella Taylor is taking heat for shredding, accurately, Sex & The City- Episodes 127-133: The Cash Grab.
Less a movie than a very long goodbye (again), at 142 minutes, Sex and the City is basically a whole season’s worth of episodes — or outtakes — slung together for no better reason than to squeeze all remaining revenues from a stupendously popular show that got out while the going was good. If nothing else, Sex and the City confirms King’s gifts as a TV director while demonstrating conclusively that he’s in way over his head working on the big screen. Where TV is small and broad and domestic and episodic, movies are large and potentially deep and climactic. But here, the show’s lifeblood — its trippy, back-talking, très gay script — sags into the garden-variety sassiness you’d find on any network sitcom. After sampling the movie’s bloodless dialogue, I missed the show’s bitchy one-liners like hell. And despite the pubic hair, well-hung penis and mildly graphic Malibu copulating that won the movie its R rating, there are more bad sex jokes than good sex.
If you want to test your gag reflex, watch the pleasant and talented Sarah Jessica Parker con herself into believing that Michael Patrick King could write his way out of an emotional paper bag without resorting to true misogyny disguised as "you go girl" philosophy on Larry Ki... uh, Charlie Rose. She's smarter than this. And he is about as concious of how others perceive his work as Kevin Spacey.
But my greatest love today is saved for Lynn Yaeger's Questions for Michael Patrick King, Sex and the City Writer and Director Or: later that day, I got to thinking about why your movie sucks. After listening to Sarah Jessica and Michael Patrick dare - DARE! - to suggest that Time Out New York's "enough already" cover was about shutting up women and not because - as mediocre as Iron Man and Indiana Jones IV (it's a number... it's how he eats!!!) are - the level of self-delusional arrogance about the importance about a show that made its name for talking about expensive shoes and sexual activities in orifices and with liquids rarely talked about on TV (It's not TV, It's Home Blow Job!).
Bring on Lynn!
1. Who are the four pathetic bimbos in funny outfits inhabiting this movie, and what have you done with our girls?
And the rest...
And my review...
Read the complete post at http://www.mcnblogs.com/thehotblog/archives/2008/05/ouchie.html