Sex and the City

Sex and the City
Directed by: Michael Patrick King
Rated R
145 Minutes

Review by Giraldo Barraza



Love them or hate them, the women of Sex and the City have been culturally significant for the past decade. Look at the quartets of ladies now parading around having "girls' night out," with their heels, big purses, and liberated attitudes. Liberated, or maybe selfish… take your pick. Point is, numerous twenty-somethings live by the gospel according to Carrie Bradshaw. Yes, that HBO show sparked a new-fashioned material revolution about new fashions that revolve around material things. Now after a few years comes the big-screen continuation of these Manhattan ladies. Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Samantha (Kim Cattrall), Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) and Charlotte (Kristin Davis) are older and a bit wiser. Well, some of them are. After years of glam frivolity, it appears fabulous has become fabuless. Sex and the City is a very long film trying to tie up loose ends that were mostly tied up at the end of the series. For a coda about what happens after "happily ever after," it's not a lot of fun. Somber in tone and reflective by nature, it feels like a hangover rather than a fruity drink.

Much has happened since this show left TV four years ago. "Sex and the City" left a void that not even "Lipstick Jungle" or "Cashmere Mafia" could fill. Although clearly tailored to meet the appeal of the xx chromosome audience, the main appeal of "Sex and the City" was the camaraderie of the four central characters. The series concluded with closure for all, and yet here we are. Set four years after the series' conclusion, the girls have scaled back as their lives mature. As a result, the themes of the film are more admirable, but the movie itself is lacking the spunk of the series. What lacks is that spark, that personality of the New York lifestyle. It's Sex without the City.

There are shiny elements sprinkled throughout, but it all seems so artificial. Random scenes of photo shoots and personal modeling are showcased, but serve no real purpose. In fact, much of the film is unnecessary. The characters are only stagnant for those four years because the screenplay requires them to. Sadly, the film feels contrived. It operates like it has to include all of the characters we grew accustomed to. How many different characters floated in and out of their lives in six seasons? Yet here it is four years later and nothing new is happening? Why don't their lives become interesting until the opening credits roll? When viewed through those lenses, Sex and the City feels as organic as a deliberate reunion tour.

To be fair, there is one new significant character that pops up after about an hour of the film has passed. Yet after showing so many characters, it is a grave misstep to add a new character to an already thinly spread ensemble. Jennifer Hudson is horribly miscast as a personal assistant to Carrie. Her role is useless. Presumably she is a naïve counterpart to all the rampant cynicism, but she really serves no other purpose other than to allow Carrie to make as many riffs on the phase "Saint Louis" as humanly possible.

Oddly, this particular misfire brings to mind the issue of minorities in the Sex and The City universe. Many have clamored on the topic before, and I was never one to subscribe to it… until now. The references are few, but the attempted humor used in regard to minorities is slightly appalling. The best they could do is an assistant with a Louis Vuitton fetish (although to be fair, ALL the characters are materialistic), a cab driver with a turban, and a five-star Mexican resort that's only good for diarrhea jokes? If that's the type of beverage this film serves, no wonder no one even drinks the water.

For all its droll and unnecessary dressing, the interaction of the quartet is still the selling point. Their dialogue and banter still bring an occasional smile, but the film adds ill-fitting situational comedy that mixes like water and suede. Why try and solicit guffaws from the audience about bikini waxes or someone crapping their pants? Is this an American Pie spinoff about a group of MILFs? Is this a Kevin Smith movie? For a film with this title, there isn't anything sexy about the humor. Subtlety is clearly NOT the new black. Gone are the annoying clever touches that passed themselves off as sardonic wit. What we have here in its stead is plenty of disillusionment. Both for the characters and the audience.

The anchor for the storyline is still the defining relationship of Carrie and Mr. Big (Chris Noth). Their stormy romance made for some interesting melodrama in the series, but sitting in a theater for two and a half hours I can't help asking myself why these people insisted on acting like middle-aged children after all these years. After all they went through, they still flake out in the same old ways? Why can't they grow up already? Aren't they all pushing fifty by now?

I guess if one has invested enough time in viewing the entire series and simply want to revisit some "old friends" like Carrie, Sam, Miranda and Charlotte, this might be enough to satisfy them. I have actually seen all episodes, and must admit I've never been a big fan (although, I must confess, a fan of Big). However, I always enjoyed the interaction of the four women and how they tried to cope with real (if petty) problems in their constructed lives. Here it mostly leads to cheesy clichés and redundant conclusions, with no payoff for anyone who really wants to know what happens after "happily ever after.

As a standalone film, it just does not work. There is no appeal except what was hinted at years ago on HBO. The film relies way too much on its past to maintain its attractiveness. I'd venture to guess that if Carrie herself had to describe this movie, she'd likely say it was like an old flame she was hoping to reignite a spark with. Alas, they only ended up lying there, and she went home unsatisfied. Leaving this film, I felt the same.

Ultimately there is no reason for this story to be told other than to make money off of the success of the series. After all, we never saw "The Golden Girls" movie or "Designing Women: The Movie." Much like last year's The Simpsons Movie, it's only more of the same on a larger canvas, only much less animated (in every sense of the word). Sex and the City is a menu picture of a cosmopolitan made with Grey Goose, but serves a mere cranberry Jell-o shot with lesser vodka. It's Absolut mediocrity. Do yourself a favor and stay at home and watch it on TV. For Carrie as well as the moviegoer, Bigger does not necessarily equate to better.

Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Directed by: Steven Spielberg
Rated PG-13
122 Minutes

Review by Giraldo Barraza



When we last saw our intrepid hero, Indiana Jones movies had always been about pure adventure. The elements of excitement, fun, and mystery had driven these films to be the gold standard of action films for the past quarter century. Each one was like a postcard from exotic locales. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is the latest installment after a gap of nineteen years, but this is not your father’s Indiana Jones. Indiana has aged a great deal since he last rode off into the sunset; and the years show. A once high-octane hot rod of adventure has a heavy coat of rust, as well as an engine that never quite get up and revving. If the previous installments were those postcards, this one seems to be only a greeting card for purposes of nostalgia. Crystal Skull is full of saccharine level sentiment and hallmark moments, but lacks any moments of real excitement.

The problems with this film can be seen from the opening frames of footage the audience sees. In previous chapters, the Paramount studio logo dissolves into a shot of majestic rocks or mountains where action is already taking place. In Crystal Skull, the logo dissolves to reveal… a groundhog’s hill… and no action. It’s unconventional, it’s disappointing, yet it’s appropriate. Producer George Lucas and director Steven Spielberg give us a handful of dirt, and then proceed trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.

Films in this series have always hitting the ground running. Each installment in this franchise leaves viewers with adrenaline flowing, blood pumping, and smiles gleaming. Yet here the film creaks in its beginning, plods to a slow trot, and then thuds to an indifferent conclusion. Little tidbits sprinkled in the dialogue hint at a colorful history for Dr. Jones since The Last Crusade. Spying in Europe during World War II? Fighting the Nazis again? Consulting at the Roswell crash? Why not give us those stories? In comparison to these “what ifs,” this atomic age tale seems absolutely pedestrian and soulless. Overall, this blasé attitude coupled with tedious editing makes this easily Spielberg’s most disappointing film since Jurassic Park’s equally half-hearted sequel, The Lost World.

The major problem is the storyline. We’ve seen quests for the Ark of the Covenant and even The Holy Grail, and now… crystal skulls. Rather than finding inspiration in the Old or New Testament, it seems our filmmakers found inspiration from a Time/Life book or an episode of “Unsolved Mysteries.”

The screenplay by David Koepp (War of the Worlds, Spider-Man) is merely serviceable. It’s clearly designed just to link a few action sequences together and to give the appearance of an adventure story. And as an adventure, it’s flat. Long gone are the strong characters from writers Lawrence Kasdan or even the cheesiness of Jeffrey Boam. There are no snappy dialogue or memorable lines. Too often the story does not elicit a sense of wonder, but instead groans of incredulity. Even with the required suspension of disbelief, there are far too many stupid moments in this film.

Although the stunt work is still fairly impressive, there is no sense of danger. You wait with anticipation for the tempo to pick up, yet the film never takes off. Even the John Williams score, normally one of the most recognizable in cinematic history, is surprisingly bland and yawn inducing. I could not identify a single new theme, but plenty of reprises from both Raiders of the Lost Ark and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

Another element that seemed out of place was the camera work and photography of Janusz Kaminski. Despite a working relationship with director Spielberg for over a decade, his cinematography does not lend itself to action films. Just like his work hindered the otherwise superb Minority Report, he strives way too hard to compose gorgeous imagery that only serve to interfere with the film’s atmosphere and overall tone. Indiana Jones films have always looked like pulp novels and comics, but here Kaminski is too concerned try to make every shot look like the cover of Vanity Fair.

A plethora of supporting characters also clog the story’s progress. There are far too many secondary roles to fill, and few of them are even necessary. Ray Winstone plods through an utterly useless role as a grave robber with constantly shifting allegiances. John Hurt mutters nonsense as a crazy lost professor; and sadly, the return of original heroine Marion Ravenwood is a waste of Karen Allen’s charm. Her return is just an excuse for some sappy moments and puppy dog grins.

One of Crystal Skull’s few strong points is Cate Blanchett’s appearance as the Soviet vixen Irinia Spalko. With her steely blue eyes, bob haircut and sword in hand, she magnetically grabs your attention whenever she’s onscreen. Yes, she’s over the top, but her scene-chomping antics at least display that she’s the only player with any enthusiasm, especially compared to an apparently disinterested Harrison Ford as the elder Dr. Jones.

One character added to the mix that obviously is going to be a part of potential future quests is Mutt Williams, a young pup played by Shia LeBeouf. I can’t comment on where the series would go under his stewardship, because he honestly isn’t given much to do except tag along with Jones. He’s not given enough time to give an impression, but the audience is told that he’s educated, tough and full of spunk. Oh, and that he must be related to Johnny Weissmuller based on his vine-swinging abilities. The only thing I deduced for myself watching Mutt Williams is that he’s clearly a big fan of Marlon Brando in The Wild One. Or perhaps that’s just Lucas or Spielberg.

So why even make this overbloated and overproduced lazy film? Is this just a setup for future movies featuring LeBeouf? No, the real reason for an Indiana Jones film in 2008 is crystal clear. Look both ways as you leave the theater and witness the intent is to sell, sell, sell. Action figures, cereals, sodas. Time to cash in like the Star Wars movies have for so long. Perhaps Paramount was tired of the pretenders getting all the attention. After all, there was money made on Tomb Raider, National Treasure, even The Da Vinci Code. Finally, the original pedigree returns after nearly two decades, but does little to inspire. While there are a few things to smile at, there is very little fun. When it comes to adventure, hold on to those old postcards to spark memories of the good old days. Crystal Skull is but a sappy “thinking of you” greeting card that was simply mailed in.