Over the last year, I have written most of Cinematical's posts on the big-screen version of Sex and the City. This is because I know most of the Carrie Bradshaw-verse inside and out. I'm not a rabid fan of the series, but I end up popping the seasons in at least once a year, as background noise, while I clean/cook/relax. I ignore the fashion and some of the more floofy romance, and enjoy a show that not only has a collection of successful, professional women as its stars, but also covers a number of real-life scenarios and conversations.
That is, I did enjoy it all until I watched the movie travails of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda on Friday. I have never, ever been so disappointed in an adaptation or move to the big screen.
(There are only minor descriptions of plot points in what follows, but if you haven't seen the film and don't want to know, don't go through the jump.)