Cute enough for an evening's mindless entertainment, but exactly that and not a penny more. Put aside any thought you might have about not caring a great deal about what happens to a group of rich, superficial white women who (you are told) are actually very smart and talented but who (you are shown) are silly twits (not to use a different vowel) whose exclusive joy in life comes from sex and shopping, and not in that order. I know, I know; we're supposed to believe this is all about love (and the search for same), but it isn't; love is secondary. We're supposed to believe it's about solidarity among a group of women friends and it is, but that's more-or-less an accident. It's really about consuming clothes, purses, shoes and other human beings. The introduction of Jennifer Hudson (who tries really hard not to be appalled by the level of minstrel-show tokenism her presence represents) as Carrie's personal assistant is so painful and so blatant an attempt to give a tiny bit of color to the TV series' snow-blinding whiteness that you can't help but be embarrassed for absolutely everyone. Here's another film in which women are stand-ins for what is essentially a gay-male fantasy about women (an art form that George Cukor pioneered in 1939 with _The Women_) Take your brain out and store it in Tupperware for the evening; _Sex and the City_ will make you smile, but not laugh out loud. If you spend a minute thinking about it, though, all it's going to do is make you mad.
Review of Sex and the City
