I can’t say I had the exact same response to Sex in the City (which I saw at midnight last night — and yes, there were men there, but not all of them happy to be there) as the New York Times reviewer:
There is something depressingly stunted about this movie; something desperate too. It isn’t that Carrie has grown older or overly familiar. It’s that awash in materialism and narcissism, a cloth flower pinned to her dress where cool chicks wear their Obama buttons, this It Girl has become totally Ick.