The day we’ve all been waiting for has arrived: “Sex and the City 2” is now on HBO, and lo, I watched it the other night. I wanted it to be so-bad-it-was-good, but alas. It was merely so-bad-it-was-excruciating. The only good to come out of it may be that it finishes off the series for good, although you never know. The entire production cost looks to have been covered with ham-fisted product placement — did you get a shot of that Rolex? can we get the tech specs for the Maybach in the script somewhere? — and for all I know, it may well have been a big hit among the sort of women who are not you.
I’m thinking of it today because one of my students came by to visit for a while yesterday, a Muslim woman. If you haven’t heard, the main part of the action takes place in Abu Dhabi, to which the quartet jets off as part of a deal Samantha makes with an Arab movie producer. (Samantha’s one-woman PR firm now occupies a glass-fronted office overlooking Times Square, at a fairly low level, too, like the studios for Nickelodeon. I figured this is so she can occasionally get up and press her bare breasts to the window for the tourists, but no, instead we see her sitting at her desk, panties around her knees, applying the various hormonal creams she needs to hold menopause at bay. WIth her back to the window! This makes no sense.)
Anyway, once the gals are in the UAE, a certain number of script pages are devoted to their discussions about Islamic standards of modesty, of which they disapprove. It all comes to a head in one truly appalling scene where hot-flashin’ Samantha (they confiscated her hormones at the airport so they could set this all up) is surrounded by Arab men in a public market who disapprove of her outfit. I wondered why they waited until this one to object, as I’d nearly gouged my eyes out over several others, one of which could literally do the job (No. 2). She responds by pelting them with condoms, until the girls are saved by some veiled and covered women, who drag them into a safe room, strip off their black abayas and reveal outfits every bit as awful as our heroines’.
Then — then! — there is a question of how our girls will escape from the market, still in an uproar over Samantha’s condoms. They actually say this: But how will we get out? I actually said, “Three, two, one,” and as I got to “one” the shot changed:
EXT: THE MARKET, DAY.
A female head emerges from a doorway, covered in BLACK SCARF and VEIL. She turns to look toward the camera, and we see BLUE EYES. She is joined by three others as they look up and down the street. The coast is clear, and they cautiously emerge.
It’s never explained how the Arabic women they borrowed the abayas from got home that day. Perhaps they were stoned to death for those outfits. I was certainly tempted.
And you know what? This wasn’t even the worst scene in the movie. Not by a long shot. I’d nominate the nightclub scene, where the girls sing, “I am Woman” while the Arabic belly-dancers look on with pride and approval, a scene that made me bury my face in a pillow.
The title of the post today is a tribute to my brother-in-law, who christened the series “the ‘ho show” when it was still on HBO, and still somewhat watchable. He also calls Sarah Jessica Parker “Miss Nelsonville” for her family’s brief residency in that Appalachian Ohio town, on their way to Broadway and SJP’s fateful part in “Annie.” You have to have driven through Nelsonville to fully get it, but there’s one scene where we see Carrie putting on her makeup in closeup, and that’s all I could think: She really is Miss Nelsonville.
I can’t believe Salman Rushdie got fatwa’d for “The Satanic Verses,” and every single person who enabled this thing walks free today, with no apparent fear of car bombs and scimitar attacks.
With that bad taste in our mouths, let’s skip to the bloggage:
Paul Ryan’s budget proposal: Splutter, splutter.
Someone needs a heapin’ helpin’ of GET OVER YOURSELF.
Coozledad’s next project: Teach Llewd to jump like
Lola Luna. I’m pleased to offer this link in keeping with our theme today (it’s from Al Jazeera):
I’m out. A great hump day to all. And no, don’t do it like Samantha.