The First 30 Minutes of the Sex and the City Movie

I was just trying to be a good boyfriend. "Oh! The Sex and the City movie is on HBO! Can we please watch it!?", she said knowing very well that I could not say no to her. How bad could it be, I pondered. Sure I had seen an episode of the show and it destroyed my will to live, but maybe they made it better for the movie?

30 minutes later...

"I will never forgive you for making me watch that atrocity". She laughs, because my misery evidently amuses her. She's lucky I love her, and that I know she is the only person in the world who can put up with my inflated sense of pride. I will have to get back at her one day, however. Perhaps I will drag her to see Saw 6 when it comes out. She hates that stuff.

Talking seriously for a moment, the Sex and the City movie was a hauntingly awful display of filmmaking that made my insides churn. Ignoring the script and the direction, the characters and content alone were enough to make me weep tears of pain. The four lead characters, who I have aptly nicknamed the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, are nothing more than insufferable, prolix, ugly, detestable creatures that are in no way funny or ironic. The dialogue in the film, what I could decipher from the high pitched squealing and rapid mile-a-minute speech, was terribly written, and I didn't for a second believe that these four horsemen were the long time friends we were supposed to assume. The lead actresses were about as affectionate to each other as a shark is to meat. After 30 minutes, I feared that blood would soon begin pouring from my ears, so I told my girlfriend enough was enough and I shut it off. Now I am aware there is an unwritten code for movie critics that says you have to view a film in its entirety before you judge it. Well I'm not a movie critic yet, so that code be damned! I would rather have my fingers crushed in between the connecting parts of two railway cars than watch the rest of this film. I would rather get shot in the head whilst reaching for a butterfly than watch the rest of this film. I would rather sell my body on the streets of New York dressed as a cowboy, and then settle for receiving sexual pleasure from Bob Balaban than watch the rest of this film.

I would have asked my girlfriend for the last 30 minutes of my life back, but let's face it, I wouldn't have done anything with those 30 minutes anyway.