The Choices by Orin Optiglot

Like almost every girl in the country, my girlfriends and I ran off to the nearest cinema to watch Sex & the City: The Movie last weekend. Everyone’s got an opinion about the frenzy, so I thought I’d put in my two cents too.

I always catch on late with most things and Sex and the City is no exception. I only started watching it last year when procrastination hit an all-time high. I ended up watching all six seasons in a freakishly concentrated period of time.

The best part of the series was the willingness of the writers to broach topical subjects with candour and humour. It was frank and unapologetically contradictory, constantly alternating between the agonisingly superficial and an attempt to look beyond the instant gratification that New York City offers.

In other words, Sex and the City was what a lot of women, including myself, can identify with – struggling with values and desires that often fly in the face of feminism and female empowerment despite our strongest beliefs that we, as independent young women living in the 21st century, do not need the fairytale to be happy.

The movie, however, is nothing like this. It’s a fantasy parade of beautiful clothes, quick quips and the four-tiered fairytale. It was an enjoyable but frothy latte version of the series, and I suspect, a fair digression from the original Candace Bushnell articles that inspired the whole franchise.

Instead of a feature film cheekily addressing the superficial and philosophical issues of these four famous New Yorkers, it’s a romantic comedy in the greatest sense of the word: a beautifully shot movie with witty repartee, trite love scenes and an absolutely amazing set of clothes. It’s a world where true love is directly associated with a king-sized closet and instant gratification does lead to happiness.

Some people have been getting worked up by the movie’s blatant simplification and flattened interpretation of the series. There have been cries of outrage about its promotion of materialism, sexual promiscuity and narcissism.

Personally, I’m not too fussed. Yes, the movie is self-indulgent. Yes, the movie is a money-making exercise. Yes, there is more product placement than I can wrap my head around. Yes, the characters are at times annoyingly stereotypical and obnoxious. Yes, the movie glorifies consumerism, vanity, social status and sel-absorption. And yes, there is no deeper meaning to the movie. But it’s still a GREAT movie.

I loved it.

It was funny, charming and entertaining. Not all movies need to be a social statement on the world. Some movies are great because it’s an escape to a world where conflict is solved by a simple wave of the wand – or in this case, many pairs of Manolo Blahniks. And who’s to say that’s not okay? We’re smart enough to realise real life doesn’t work that way. Even though we may squeal in delight at the sight of an amazing Christian Dior wedding dress or a lavishly decorated penthouse apartment during those two hours, it doesn’t necessarily mean we want this to translate to the rest of our lives.

I guess my point is that I think Sex and the City is just a great big fluffy ball of fun. Maybe it’s a little bit like how boys love watching action movies so much – they may revel in the thrill of watching all those shoot ‘em ups, but it doesn’t mean they want to go buy a gun and shoot down a mob of gangsters Scarface style. Sex and the City: the Movie may not be anything like the original concept, but it still made me laugh, cry and get that warm and fuzzy feeling. And that’s well worth $12.50 from me.