Oh, it had been so long. The friendships, the drama, the amazing story lines, the clothes, the booze, the romance. After waiting so many years for the return of some of my favorite characters, I finally went to see the new... Indiana Jones movie! I really liked it, although it had its flaws, but I'm sure upon a second viewing -- which will probably be when it comes out on Blu-Ray -- I will enjoy it even more.
Ok, ok -- maybe I didn't fool you at all. But maybe some of you thought I was talking about the new Sex and the City movie. So yeah, I went to see it. And, yeah, there are 12 million and one opinions written on the internet already that run the gamut from magnum opus to dreck, but I figured why not throw my two cents in?
I decided to see it in order to ascertain exactly what OW considers a masterpiece. Alright, and I was curious what the big surprise was, and to find out exactly what happened with most of the principal players. As I have admitted, it's a devilish delight for me, but one I also admit I could easily do without.
I went to a multiplex in Fredericksburg, VA, and saw it in a theater that probably had a couple hundred seats on Friday, it's eighth day of release, at 9:30 pm. The room was pretty packed, and I'd say there were only a few men -- who looked like they had been dragged in.
So what do I have to say about it? I have to say, my reaction was all over the board. I liked it, it was fun. Some of the story lines about the relationships were interesting. But there were also times I wanted to yell in objection at the screen. And not because of the notion that women need men. Or don't need men. (The movie seemed to want to say both. And not in a "do what's best for you" way but in a "we can't decide either and we want to please everyone" way.)
I found myself envious of the fun the friends were having, but not at all envious of the gross consumption -- the money being thrown around was shameful. I almost laughed out loud when a new character -- who had been "renting" designer bags -- opened a gift in a Louis Vuitton box. She screamed when she opened it -- and I thought she must have been screaming at how hideous the purse inside was and the horror of how much money had been wasted on something so u-g-l-y. Instead she was delighted!
But that's what this movie is about right? We're supposed to desire everything we see on that (this-time-not-small-but-big) screen. In the land of SATC, we're supposed to vicariously live this life of overpriced and grotesque clothing, reckless and foolhardy desires of the flesh (sexual and otherwise), and unquestioning-to-the-point-of-uncaring devotion to friends.
And like the audiences of Fashion Week, the women seeing this film are gobbling it all up and believing they must "love it"! I wish I had yelled at the screen. I wish I could go to those fashion shows and stand up when something repulsive appears and say "Basta, stupido!"
Unfortunately, the women of America are so desperate to see something on the screen that fulfills their craving for harmless fun, they're willing to swallow whatever comes with it, even if it just ain't no good.