So now the world is made up of two kinds of people:  Those who have seen the Sex And The City Movie and those who haven’t.

And while we have no idea what the exact percentages are, we think it’s safe to say that the numbers probably won’t have changed much by the end of this weekend--chances are, if you weren’t one of us tortured souls who just couldn’t wait to see it (or were dragged there by same), you’re so sick of hearing about it by now that you’ve lost any desire to see it at all. .

We still can’t get enough of it, though, and while reviews of the movie were pretty much split down the middle, we couldn’t help but notice that fans of the original series seemed to be more disappointed in the film than the SATC virgins, presumably because the latter had such dismally low expectations going in. 

In fact, people who never watched the series seemed genuinely surprised at how “not too painful”  and “funny and very naughty” the movie was, which, to be honest, we find to be a little insulting.  (Especially since the movie contains so little of the wicked humor and raw pathos that attracted most of us to the show in the first place.)   Did these guys forget that, before the show went into its sanitized syndication on TBS,  SATC was a critically-acclaimed, long-running series on a premium pay channel?   To assume that the show was any less intelligent or compelling than, say, The Sopranos or Six Feet Under  because it was geared toward women just seems kind of… well, patronizing.

And we don’t be getting all Hillary/Miranda-cranky here--we know the guys were trying to be nice--but why did so many of the straight male reviewers feel like they they had to throw out some sort of hetero-disclaimer?  Like on Ebert & Roeper , when Michael Phillips cheerily opens the Sex And The City review segment with “Break out the cosmos and Manolo Blahniks...” Richard Roeper  snaps back “How ‘bout if I pop open a Schlitz and unlace my Nikes instead?”   Okay, guys, we get it--you’re not sissies, even when you have to admit to being whiny and henpecked to prove it.

But chest-thumping aside, we agreed with those who felt that the film didn’t live up to the original series; for us, most of it was little more than a high-end fashion spread with dialog.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course--we really weren’t expecting much more, to be honest.

Still, it would have been nice to have gotten some closure on a a couple of things that have always bothered us in the series and have yet to be resolved.

Like, why does Sarah Jessica Parker still have that mole/wart thing on her chin? 

It’s not like she’s never had work done, or like this is a Cindy Crawford / Lauren Hutton situation where some small imperfection becomes an endearing “trademark”.    While people can debate all day long on whether the rest of her face is beautifully quirky or not, (blesserheart) we’re pretty sure that no one--and we mean NO one--would miss that bump if it were to suddenly disappear tomorrow.
(One of our Top Secret Frat Boy Correspondents has always contended that the “hottest” SJP ever looked was when she played the ditsy bleached-blond witch in Hocus Pocus.  “That was the only time the mole ever really made sense” he says. )

And speaking of witches and things that rhyme with them, why is Miranda still such a raging harridan?  For someone who’s supposed to be all empowered and independent,  what kind of message does it send that she’s not only considered by most men to be the least  attractive of the four women, but also the most bitter, unhappy, and generally off-putting character in the franchise?   While pretty Charlotte seems to see every glass as half-full, no matter what the circumstances, (and, let’s face it, she’s had her share of problems, not to mention the fact that her husband is every bit as goofy as Steve), plain, red-headed Miranda is little more than a constantly crabby ingrate who seems to spread evil wherever she goes. 

Which is too bad, because we thought her hair looked fabulous in the movie,

even though, as usual, she got stuck with some awful clothes.  (Apologies to Maggie London, but we’re not sure a circus tent could carry off a print that big. )

Character quibbles aside, we all know that the real star of movie was the clothes.  The winking, over-the-top ridiculousness of it all made us giddy, and not just because the clothes and accessories were so expensive, but also because no real person—at least one with a job or a family--could possibly be that put together, no matter how much money they had at their disposal. 
For instance, while it would take most women weeks with a personal shopper to put together the head-to-toe outfits the women wore in Mexico, our girls (or at least three of them--Carrie was prepared) ostensibly packed their ensembles at a moment’s notice, hats, beads, and all. 

And we actually laughed out loud when we saw them wearing designer swimsuits and heels to sunbathe on their private balcony.

Because everyone knows that, even IF it were possible for someone who’s not a stripper, beauty pageant contestant, or ring girl at a boxing match to actually pull off the whole heels + swimsuit ensemble, there’s no way in hell any sane girl would endure them just to hang out with her girlfriends.
(Especially not after a couple of those margaritas… )

But then, this is Sex And The City Land, where sanity--and reality--is so not the point.
Thank goodness!