i went to go see Sex and the City saturday with a friend. we both enjoy films shoved sneeringly(by many men) in the category of "chick flick" as well as the original HBO show, which i have often defended -- for all its neuroticism and its materialism -- as being fundamentally radical in its depiction of modern women as power-, sex-, and money-hungry agents of their own creation (or destruction). plus, it was funny. it was a little like Absolutely Fabulous without the vicious cruelty.

but i found myself hard-pressed to defend the film to detractors. although so many of the same elements of the TV show were still present: fashion, status satire, romantic troubles. but the effervescent wit that lifted those ugly reflections of modern materialism and narcissism was defeated when faced with 148 minutes of turgid and heavy-handed soap opera melodrama. the sight of four affluent women bemoaning their lives wears a sensible person's patience quite thin over that time.

then there is the materialism. don't get me wrong, i love fashion as much as the next girl, and perhaps more than many; i lust after clothes and shoes and a big closet and all that money can provide. but man, this was like shameless porn and it actually made me embarrassed. the name-dropping, the gratuitous shots of gowns that would be out of the reach of almost all women, the dress-up montage -- it all gave a new and painfully literal meaning to the term "label whore", a phrase i absolutely abhor.

the sincere friendship and love between the characters than normally serves to elevate the show a little was not much in evidence in the film; the characters were even more wooden than usual, and the men -- my god, i always used to root for Big but in the film he trades the gain of a real name for a stripping of all the personality that made you believe Carrie could have fallen for him. he's nothing but a tall, dark, handsome ATM machine. with issues.

i did enjoy parts of the movie, and it did make me laugh. the Diane Arbus line (spoken, not coincidentally, by none of the four main characters) showed a flash of the old sophisticated wit; but sometimes i laughed out of shock at the naked audacity of the product placements and rampant status-worshipping on the screen. or at the extremely heavy-handed symbolism that you could see coming a mile away.

but in spite of these moments of enjoyment the film left me profoundly depressed. this is what passes for modern womanhood? all the characters except one need marriage to feel fulfilled; and the one that doesn't (surprise! it's Samantha) rejects commitment because she longs to fuck a sexy next door neighbor. she is also the one who was punished in the show for her free-wheeling sexuality with a case of breast cancer. the show pretends to be empowering but really, it offers the exact same Cinderella tales that women have always been fed. in fact, Cinderella is an active theme in the film, with a Manolo pump standing in for an engagement ring at one point. the movie is, essentially, Pretty Woman times four.

i know a lot of girls and women loved Pretty Woman when it came out. i hated it. i hated it more than Sex and the City, because at least in SATC, the women seem to have some agency; in Pretty Woman, the Cinderella figure has really no attribute other than her beauty. a rich man plucks her whole from the gutter and transforms her -- through the power of money translated into nice clothings -- into a worthy mate. is this a female fantasy or a classic male Pygmalion fantasy? the perfect woman exists -- if you mold her, with money. ugh.

here i have to look inside myself a little. i have, i think, a complicated relationship with Cinderella tales. on the one hand i confess that like many women i am not inured to the idea of being "saved" somehow by a prince among men; and i understand the allure of the power of money; and i understand the deep desire to find everlasting love. but i think there is a way to handle those themes in a satisfying way that doesn't seem so shallow and ultimately, so insulting to women. Jane Austen had the exact same values -- all her books are about the quest for marriage, the need to make a good alliance, the inescapable importance of money and social position; and yet the characters are so charming, so real, so lovable, and their situations so expertly delineated, and the wit so lively and vibrant, that the reader comes away satisfied. SATC feels empty and meaningless, a yawning chasm filled with fancy alcohol and colorful dresses.

i don't know. maybe i'm being too harsh. and it's probably unfair to compare this film with one of the great writers of the English language. but for a really clever and interesting version of the Cinderella tale, steeped in fashion know-how and endearing characters, i'd have to say that Devil Wears Prada did it so much better, with verve and spirit and a true heroine who transformed herself with action, not money.