“I couldn’t help but wonder: Did the critics have it wrong?”
Release date: 30 May 2008
By Jerilyn Covert
Somewhere, in a fantasyland version of Manhattan inhabited by fashion socialites Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte York, Miranda Hobbes and Samantha Jones, the term “repression” bears no meaning. Today, the “Sex and the City” heroines, bouncing about in the kind of fashion labels most of us recognize by virtue only of red-carpet specials, made their much anticipated, “Big” screen debut, though many fans saw the movie last night, at midnight showings scattered across the nation. (At our local movie theater, empty seats were harder to find than Manolo Blahniks on sale.) As a born-again fan of the popular HBO series, I have to admit that early buzz on the film, which some critics have portrayed as little more than a glorified Cinderella tale, had me somewhat concerned. Had our girls grown tame with age? Would the racy sex talk dissolve into giddy-girlfriend babble? And now that they all had husbands or lovers, would they–could they?–still wear their independence like badges on their sleeves, prominently displayed beside their pricey Prada handbags? But as I watched the film–and the trendy, parodic twentysomethings who sat entranced in the dark–I realized something, something I think some critics have overlooked. You see, “SATC” has always been something of a paradox, a strange marriage of feminist ideals–and stiletto high heals. Furthermore, this hybrid may be the greatest of all evidence of social change. And it certainly explains why, while Carrie’s single womanhood may be at stake, she still uses her oven as storage for sweaters. Read the rest of this entry »
