Why We Liked It So Much: For many women — and a few men (we don't need to know who you are) — Sex and the City transcended television, becoming a weekly tutorial in friendship, love, style and Manhattan livin' played out by four singular, relatable women whose lives were just slightly more of a sequin-clad fairytale than our own. They lived it. We loved it. Indeed, it was a group of thirtysomethings that we envied/admired/adored — not twentysomethings.
Now, Not So Much: Released last May, memories of the shrill, soulless Sex and the City: The Movie still sting like a Manolo spike to the stomach. Watching the flick, one could almost sense costume maven Patricia Field piling on layers of designer glitz in a frantic effort to cover the film's clunky, misguided plot — and the cast's developing wrinkles (well, it's true). To our dismay, it's, again, time to rally the find-the-flattering-light professionals. Extended negotiations ended this week when Chris Noth signed on for another go as Mr. Big, aka Mr. Carrie Bradshaw, thus securing Sex's core cast for the sequel. Sure, it'll be another $150 million for them, but it'll likely be another Big Whiney Mess for us (cue the diluted TBS repeats any day). They might as well call it Sex and the City 2: Insult to Injury.
LAST WEEK'S DUNZO: Spencer and Heidi get married. Again.