No, not the kinds of female superheroes invented by men for men, vinyl-clad fantasies like Electra or Catwoman. The women of SATC don't fly or have awesome weapons or even drive very often — but they do save each other from bad guys.This post helpfully breaks down an opening-night audience with pie charts and quotes.
I may as well admit, I absolutely contributed to the SATC orgy this weekend. Two friends and I structured our Saturday around getting tickets and then seats. I felt rather proud of myself for planning it all out well. Then the movie started, a sentimental moment made my eyes prick, and I realized the one thing I had forgotten: I was PMSing. This means I cry--plentifully, hard, and at the drop of a hat.
I usually deal with this by milking the cow, watching tragic West Wing eps. But there I was, far from my laptop and confronted with four sweet, flawed, familiar characters I had come to care about after years of watching and rewatching them. The tears, they did not stop. The movie is two and a half hours long; I estimate that I cried through at least forty-five minutes of it.
As embarrassing as it is, the weeping did accomplish something: I was too busy emoting to get worked up about the film's idiotic missteps, like Jennifer Hudson as Magical Negro, the one throwaway Charlotte subplot, and the last line. If you cry through something, you are almost guaranteed to come out feeling fond of it. Then, clearly drunk from dehydration, I bought Seasons 3 & 4 on DVD for a half zillion more femme points and $40. Je ne regrette rien.