And by 'Carrie,' I don't mean that knife-throwing waif with mother issues from Stephen King's 1976 horror flick, but rather Carrie Bradshaw, patron saint of big hair and urban singlehood.
I cringed when I heard that a Sex and the City (SATC) movie was in production, and debated whether I could drag myself to watch it. I loved SATC, but was relieved when it finally capped off its sixth season. By then the show had lost much its original fire. It was time to let Carrie and friends happily ride off into the celluloid sunset. A SATC movie sounded too much like a vanity project, like George Lucas's tragic Star Wars prequels, The Simpsons Movie, Rocky Balboa (I could go on and on...). It smacked of a cash-in, an unnecessary exhuming of a pop icon skeleton.
But, hey. After watching this, I realized, who am I fooling? Vanity project? Cash-in? Who cares. SATC will always be SATC. I'll be at our local VUE theater on the 30th of May, along with a stampede of other women, rooting for Carrie.
See you there.
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