Well, this looks positively dreadful.

I didn’t always hate Sex and the City.  There was a time when the novelty hadn’t worn off, the writing was fairly sharp, and the characters were somewhat appealing.  Then the show fell in love with its own bawdiness, and the charm was gone.  Suddenly, listening to four women banter like bitter old queens was as excruciating as it should’ve been in the first place, with each successive episode deteriorating into an increasingly desperate jumble of stock scenes (Carrie agonizes over Big, Charlotte does something naive, Miranda can’t decide if she’s happy, Samantha fucks something, and the girls lunch somewhere trendy). 

So why is this getting the big screen treatment again?  Is there anything original left to say on the state of being a privileged tramp in New York City?  Of course not, but the enormous success of The Devil Wears Prada signaled to studios that there’s a market for chick flicks in the summer, so why not get the harpies back together for one last shrill meditation on what it’s like to screw your way to contentedness?  Carrie’s certainly an expert on it, having broken up Big’s marriage during Season Three, but let’s be happy that the philandering pair are getting married anyway!  Oh, but wait!  There’s a twist!  Carrie gets a life-altering call on her cell phone and leaves Big standing at the altar!  Fuck yes, it’s a remake of Telefon!

No matter how wretched Sex and the City: The Movie is, it’s going to rake in a ton of too-little, too-late cash for New Line when it opens on May 30th (the charming and very funny Forgetting Sarah Marshall was wise to vacate that date).  God help you if your wife/girlfriend/boyfriend drags you to this misery.