Sex and...

When Carrie Bradshaw and Mr Big finally got together again in the last episode of Sex and the City three years ago, my sister and I cried buckets. Our emotions that evening were fuelled, it has to be said, by several large Cosmopolitans, but we were genuinely moved by the very modern love story that was Carrie and Big.
So I couldn’t wait to see the much-anticipated big screen version of the cult TV hit series. Indeed I was so desperate I dragged my poor husband along to the Village cinema complex in downtown Athens earlier this week to catch an early evening screening.
No, I am not going to give away the plot, such as it was, or spoil the ending by telling you if it was happy or not, but I did cry a couple of times and laughed a few more.
But I didn’t really enjoy it. The genius of SATC - the TV series was the brilliant script. Okay, the accessories were to die for too, but the dialogue was sassy, fast paced, even at times, insightful.
The movie script just didn’t have the same sparkle or depth. It was also clearly a solo vehicle for Sarah Jessica Parker, with everyone else; yes even the magnetic Chris Noth, relegated to the sidewalk.
It was also very cynical. I don’t usually mind product placement, but when it as blatant as it was in this movie, it leaves even a brand junkie like me feeling a bit jaded.
In one of the most poignant moments of the movie, an iPhone gets a better close up than any of the four women.
And the graphic sex scenes that made the TV series such a talking point were largely absent. The most desirable thing in the movie was a pre-war Fifth Avenue penthouse apartment, with a walk-in wardrobe that was surely designed by a god-like genius.
As Mr Big would say, it was abso – effing – lutely gorgeous.