Review: ‘Sex and the City 2′

It’s not that Carrie Bradshaw and crew were bad.

It’s that they were so bad that I feel I should travel to the Middle East to apologize for the way spoiled, entitled Americans portrayed and disrespected the culture. If I were in the movie, I’d probably suggest doing this on some sort of magic carpet.

It’s been two years since we’ve checked in with Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha. If you didn’t see the first movie, SPOILER ALERT: Carrie and Mr. Big finally got hitched. They gave up their extravagant penthouse apartment and now live in the same building, but 12 floors down. Carrie worries that they’re becoming and old married couple, and Mr. Big just wants to watch television and eat take-out (personally, I’m on Big’s side for this one).

Miranda is still happily married to Steve the cheater in Brooklyn, raising the next Carrot Top. Her job, however, is proving to be less than fulfilling. Her boss has no respect for her (because she’s a woman!) and she can’t make it to her son’s science fairs. Don’t worry, she quit her job and arrived just in time to see mini-Carrot Top win first place for his rat maze.

Charlotte, who had gotten everything she ever wanted, has realized that gosh darn, being a mom is hard! And she has full-time help! But her nanny refuses to wear a bra, and when Samantha suggests that Harry might stray, Charlotte begins obsessing. She’s horribly unhappy and crying in the pantry. Nanny wet T-shirt contest to the rescue!

Samantha’s lady parts are fine, thanks to 37 bottles of hormone cream and a book by Suzanne Somers (yeah, I’m still confused about that one). She’s had breast cancer and she’s in the throws of “The Change,” but otherwise, she’s still Samantha.

The opening scenes flashed back to the ladies in the ’80s. I think I can safely call that my favorite part. The rest was a blur of ridiculous clothes, embarrassing hats, five-inch heels, and a the worst puns I’ve ever heard. Then they traveled to the Middle East where my head exploded from the sheer disrespect of it all. Samantha refused to cover any part of her body (except with yams), there was a sea of Australian man parts, and Miranda made parallels between her boss treating her poorly because she’s a woman and the way women are treated in Abu Dhabi (this might have been a good message if it didn’t come from four rich, bejeweled, American princesses).

After two and a half hours (yes, two and a half), all conflict was wrapped up into a neat little Tiffany box with a pretty little diamond. Carrie’s problems with Big are solved, Miranda is happy in her new job, Charlotte loves her children (despite the fact that they are poorly behaved monsters) and her nanny is a lesbian, and Samantha? Well, Samantha has sex on a car.

Oh, and there was a gay butler named Abdul (“You know, like Paula.”) who stole the show.