Disclaimer: At first glance, the title of this blog post may seem a PEDESTRIAN choice, because no one expected this piece-of-shit sequel to be Oscar-worthy. But, we assure you, this review will blow all other reviews out of the water.
"Thanks to writer-director Michael Patrick King, I now have a fair idea how it might feel to be stoned to death with scented candles." - Cliff Doerkson, Chicago Reader (Sidenote: Cliff Doerkson=Worst Name Ever)
"It has no plot to speak of, little in the way of wit or intelligence, and is about 50% longer than can reasonably be justified." - James Berardinelli, ReelViews
Where to begin? Let us first take you on the path that is the winding plot of this movie...oh wait, if we took you on that path, you would end up essentially playing Hopscotch from one racist, contrived story to another. We begin in New York City, where the girls are preparing for their best gay friends' wedding. Cut to actually 584,549 jokes about being gay, and truly the most flamboyant wedding of all time. Here you are graced with the completely random presence of Liza Minnelli, who performs the service and, unexpectedly, Single Ladies - to which Jessica asked, "Why would it make any sense at all to sing SINGLE LADIES at a MALE-MALE WEDDING?" The answer to that question is that Michael I'm Dumb Patrick King decided audiences worldwide were dying to see a bejeweled raisin with legs and a Ke$ha-status voice, i.e. Liza Minnelli in black sequins. We gotta give it to her, though, her legs be fierce.
Next, because this totally makes sense, we go from a White Wedding to Abu Dhabi...? Cut to actually 999,998 racist jokes while in Abu Dhabi. When the girls (why the fuck are we calling them that when they're all easily pushing 90?) arrive at the Abu Dhabi airport, they immediately make comments about the women wearing burkas. "Oh, cool," you might say to yourself, "I guess that's edgy." No, it's not. Be prepared to encounter hundreds of comments about women wearing burkas...meant to be feminist statements, in Samantha's case? Of Samantha, Michael I-Can't-Just-Have-Someone-Say-Something-Without-It-Being-A-Pun Patrick King says that, "she is an unapologetic individual." Well, so are we, and we don't plan on apologizing for calling you an untalented, washed-up writer. Cool.
While writing this review, a friend asked, "are you going to talk about Sarah Jessica Parker's hot tranny mess face?" Excellent segue. Let's talk about Sarah Jessica Parker's hot tranny mess face. We'll start off by saying that it might not be her own fault. Michael I-Confuse-Being-Sassy-With-Just-Being-Whiny Patrick King may just have put in the script that Carrie Bradshaw's face needs to be fugly at all times. She looks like a 2nd grader gave her a skin graft and then reattached her skin to her face and then drew on a heinous mole below her mouth. The only word that truly describes it is "YIKES".
So, in conclusion, if you want to be bored, uncomfortable, confused when to laugh, and totally shocked, then Sex & the City 2 is the movie for you. If not, then you might just want to see it so that you can talk about it (because secretly it's worth it)...
Contributions from Guest Writer: Lily Dobberteen
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