I wanted to write this post right after I saw the movie, the night of its premiere in Montréal. I instead decided to wait until more faithfuls had seen it, more reviews had been published and once the hype had diminished, even if just little.
First, a disclaimer: I adored the series from the very beginning (since the pilot when Carrie had red hair, a desktop Mac and a not-so-cool apartment). To say I didn’t like the movie would be harsh. Instead, I will say I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth. Happy of the final outcome for Carrie, and still shaken by the couple of moments during the movie when I had to hold back tears.
The problem, besides the blatant product placements, besides Jennifer Hudson and besides the fashion that was too runway and not enough New York, is that the producers took a gritty, underground, cult series and turned it into a glamorized episode of Desperate Housewives. Too sanitized, too predictable and too mainstream. Sex And the City, the series, was like a secret handshake that only hardcore followers knew about. The movie, on the other hand, was tailored-made for mass-appeal. I simply expected more from the girls.