Film: Sex And The City

Being a man who can only use the words Manolo Blahnik in this sentence after looking up the spelling on the internet and whose general view of romantic comedies is that it's amazing how they have managed to invent a form of comedy with no laughs it's fair to say that I'm not the target market for this film. In fact I'm merely a part of what the marketing folks would think of as the secondary market of blokes who will be dragged unwillingly into the cinema hoping the film will be over soon. A case of close your eyes and think of Jean Claude Van Damme.

The film picks up 3 years after the TV series ended with the girls (surely women by now?) having spent the whole time in stable relationships. You would have thought after having six series of man-trouble cropping up on a weekly basis they would regard this period of calm as a freakishly unnatural phenomenon like bees disappearing or the New York streets being free of dirt and rubbish. However like Michael Myers appearing at Halloween, you know it won't be long before disaster strikes and they will have nothing to protect themselves except sassy girl chat, kooky outfits and designer names.

When it started Sex And The City was viewed as shocking TV that broke taboos like they were a credit limits in a Gucci store, however time and the transition to the big screen means that there is unlikely to be a raised eyebrow let alone a shocked gasp. Thankfully the show really sustained itself more through through it's script and wit rather than it's potty mouth and there is still enough zing to the chat to sustain itself.

The characters may be drawn broadly, so much so that magazine editors to can whip up a "which SATC girl are you" feature in their sleep, but they remain engaging. Sex And The City has always been about the life behind a newspaper column, so the whole thing is a fantasy world anyway and to expect Mike Leigh style rigor in the characterization is like expecting Steven Seagal to fight like a normal human (or even deliver dialogue like a normal human for that matter).

The film's main surprise is it's confident visual style. Every shot is soaked in style and glamour but they are also well crafted and it's nice to have a film where the money shots don't require CGI - just a bunch of designer names. This does mean that the film has more product placement that the average ad break. In fact it's amazing the film doesn't just get itself sponsored by Vogue and be done with it. The montages are clearly fashion porn rather than plot development, but they are as integral to the film as big ass fighter planes are to Top Gun.

The success of Sex And The City may be due to the fact that other romantic comedies have set the bar so low it's difficult to know whether we are playing high jump or limbo dancing. In this climate the film should be welcomed with open arms, even it stretches itself less than Jabba The Hutt's wetsuit being worn by Kate Moss. Some judicious editing might have improved the film, but the 2.5 hour length doesn't feel like a drag, and the sensible focus on Carrie, to the exclusion of the other girls, means that it feels like one film rather than four.

Finally, for worried males out there, just remember it's not the end of the world and the works of Jean Claude and Mr Seagal are still available from all good DVD retailers.