Friday Night 'Sex'

Manolos, martinis and men, oh my!

What can I say? The pure, unadulterated joy this film brought to the theater last night was outstanding. At the first glimpse of Carrie Bradshaw trotting down the streets of Manhattan, big poofy flower and all, the cheers and applause erupted. It was like we never left our favorite fantasyland of fashion, fun and "funky spunk" (That opening credits montage? Killer).

Yes, there were the groups of fanatics - dressed to the nines, handbangs clutched, lipstick re-applied - lined up around the theater hours before showtime, tickets purchased a week in advance. This was undoubtedly the Star Wars for fashionistas everywhere. Taking Oprah's advice, gaggles of girlfriends gathered together to invade the multiplexes and exercise their girl power at the box office. Just to give you a taste of the magnitude of Sex's inevitable success: I hear the film made $6 million at the midnight screenings on Thursday alone (Iron Man made just $1 million in that time frame).

I truly can't see how this film will be an absolute delight for the non-die-hards and the uninitiated. Sure, Michael Patrick King and SJP have boasted about how the film version of the HBO Emmy-winner will cater to both parties (anything to sell more tickets), but in the end, it's all for the fans. Only can the loyal followers of the show revel in the gratuitous wardrobe changes and flashes of designer names, the therapeutic girl-talk over cocktails and power meals, the zinging one-liners bordering on inside jokes. To the casual moviegoers who'll buy tickets to this Mother of All Romantic Comedies, I'm not quite sure what kind of movie this will be for them.

I won't even bother getting into the plot, because most of y'all have seen the online photos, heard the rumors, back while the film was actually shooting in September! Big events are planned (no pun intended), tears are shed, shoes are worn, sex is had.

Having Samantha go bicoastal was a nifty little development. After all, boyfriend Smith's career has bloomed, his mug gracing the covers of every issue of every entertainment magazine. And Samantha is now faced with the gradual monotony of life in a beach house (oogling her insanely hot neighbor) and the occasional shopping excursion to Rodeo Drive. In other words Ms. Jones would use herself, the bitch is bored. And the little pokes at Los Angeles are on the mark:

Samantha: "I haven't been happy in six months."
Miranda: "Isn't that normal for LA?"

The ladies all go through their episodic problems, but this time they're carefully stretched out to fill nearly two-and-a-half hours of silver screen time (totally worth it - just make sure you pee before going in). The length shouldn't be a problem for fans...if you've managed to sit through a DVD marathon at home on a rainy Sunday morning (you know who you are), then consider this the ultimate viewing party.

Our gals have aged gracefully, and what was once a television comedy about being single in your 30s has now aged gracefully into a delectable dramedy of a movie about life and love on the other side of 40.

Raising my glass,

H.P.M.