I’ve written about “Sex and the City” more than my fair share of times in this column throughout the past year. I talked about how the intense media coverage of the film’s three-month shoot would spoil the plot. I cited the film and television show as perfect examples of when a setting is much more than picking what state license plate to put in the background. However, even as a true-blue fan of the iconic HBO series and as someone who eagerly awaited the film’s release, I had no idea of the pandemonium that would come with the return of Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha.
While many large summer releases such as “Iron Man” and “Indiana Jones” garner enough attention to warrant those super-special midnight screenings, it still came as a bit of a surprise that “Sex” was able to justify midnight screenings outside of the Big Apple.
But the real kicker came Friday when, after a friend and I casually agreed to go to a 5 p.m. showing in Santa Monica, we were met with a line around the block. There were teenage girls, thirtysomethings, middle-aged women and even the elderly ““ some still dressed in work attire and others dressed up for a night on the town. As ticket-holders were finally let inside to get their seats, I literally saw a gaggle of late-20-year-olds run past an aged woman with a walker, both headed for the same destination with equal fervor and determination.
There was much speculation about how much money a film so strongly geared toward one gender could fare. However, while there were only a handful of boyfriends, husbands and assorted companions in our theater, the movie made about $57 million in its opening weekend, the best ever for a romantic comedy and had the third best opening day ever for an R-rated film.
Many had worried that four years was too long to wait for some more “Sex,” but it seems with the aid of both network reruns of the show on TV and DVD, the show’s fanbase has surprisingly expanded and grown stronger since the series finale rather than dimmed.
Many of these women, like myself, probably saw some of the film’s plot points coming from a million miles away, but they were completely emotionally invested nonetheless. They had planned who they would attend the movie with weeks in advance. They cheered when the show’s famous theme song began to play and clapped at triumphant moments along with the movie.
There’s only so much to say about a moment in pop culture such as this one, when everything came together so seamlessly in spite of the film’s studio (New Line) being absorbed earlier this year and the fact that the film had been pushed to the side once before thanks to petty salary-bickering. It seems there’s no use in looking to the past heartbreaks and betrayals but only to savor the present.
“Sex and the City,” though not an especially funny, surprising or emotional two-and-a-half hours, is something about so much more than Manolos or Vitamin Water endorsements. The success of “Sex and the City” is the happy ending that reminds me why I love going to the movies.
There’s part of me that has recently come to think of the moviegoing public as either Mirandas, too cynical and too busy to remain a devout theater attendee in the future, or Samanthas, for whom the only important part of going to the movies is being able to talk about the film the next Monday and seem “cool.”
However another part of me couldn’t help but wonder a second hypothesis, more optimistic and romantic. Like Carrie or perhaps even Charlotte, this other part of me would like to believe the magic of the good, old movie experience is rare but still very much possible no matter what new online, mobile, digital movie service comes along.
This past weekend, I was proved right when I least expected it, similar to another curly-haired writer when she found herself alone and broken-hearted on the streets of Paris.
Now let’s just hope they don’t ruin the moment with a sequel.
If you think “Sex and the City” is just about Manolos, orgasms and shameless product placements, e-mail Stanhope at kstanhope@media.ucla.edu.