Sex and the City 2

"The most stupid, most racist, most polluting and women-hating film of the year"

Hurry hurry - on at the local Orfeas now.

The London Evening Standard's Andrew O'Hagan delivering some wonderful quote-bites:

"Ugly on the inside

"Greedy, faithless, spoiled, patronising, women-degrading morons who confuse their common vulgarity for camaraderie

"A quagmire of denuded self-worth, a mature woman of means with the desperate mentality of the School Bike.

"A junket to Abu Dhabi, a place chosen, one presumes, because it might be the only place on earth where the nasty antics of this quartet might be mistaken for feminism.

And sure as nuts, it’s not long before the condoms come out and the Dior T-shirts come out, every frame driven by the dull-minded assumption that any country without slingbacks is a nation in chains, that any country where the women don’t shout about screwing, or behave like materialistic whores, is a country where women are enslaved.

(It still doesn't stop me fancying that felinial Kristin Davis creature ~ above and below. That's directions to the photos, not where I fancy KD)

"At the lowest point in the film, Carrie and her mates enter a room full of women in burkas, and the latter remove them, as if compelled by the power of moral example to reveal their own big-label gear, which they are wearing underneath, closer to their true selves. “We too can be American, like you, Carrie,” they seem to say.

"This could be the most stupid, the most racist, the most polluting and women-hating film of the year, with a variety of ugliness that no number of facial procedures could begin to address."

Feedback: This is what I like best about my blog: I post some half-hearted effort and shazam! some clever clued Lifestyle Guru rescues it with the Real McCoy:

OK Mag's razor-totin' PhilmGuy, Phil Villarreal, is the rreal deal when he shows how,

"Most horror films try to get you with shock value, loud scores and copious gore. But not Sex and the City 2, which grinds away your suspension of disbelief and confronts you with the prospect of endless mental torture.

Throughout the 146-minute running time the monsters top one another with dreadful puns, revolting sexual innuendo and strained catch-phrase inventions, such as “interfriendtion.”

At one point, Swamp Thing is on an airplane and grabs a date off a plate. There’s an infinitesimal pause as you cringe, wondering if she’ll actually say what you think she’s about to say, and then, yes, she remarks that she just left and “already has got a date,” prompting her evil companions into a hideous cackle.

You stare at your watch: still 90 minutes to go."

Thanks for that gem to the hawk-eyed Princess Puella d'Anonyme.

Wot modern womanhood means ~ And from the Boss of Me, lovely Lindy West writing in my fave Seattle reading, The Stranger, watched "146 Minutes of Sex and the City 2 and All I Got Was This Religious Fundamentalism".

As BoM says, nota bene the final payoff line.

Ground-breaking for baby boomers: I'm a fair man. I'll run the roobish write-ups along with the rest.

Someone called Liz Hoggard in the Evening Standard thinks

"its celebration of mature flesh is radical. And totally on the zeitgeist."

See what I mean? The gobbledy-gook's out there. English gobby-goo, to boot, bless it.

Abomination ~ Princess Penuezela brings this right up-2-date with this review from my birth-country Oz.

"A cheerless, broken sham.

One more time: Your movie has lain itself on the rock of female self-loathing, asked late-capitalism to gang-bang it, please, and then drown it in a bukkake-tsunami of product placement.

This is not a movie but an advertising medium strangely complicit in its own rape and murder."

Bang on stuff.

My ticket is booked for the Република Србија première. Should be fireworks ... wait, that's the burning of FIFA in effigy. 'Nuther city.