The Only Part I Didn't Like Was the End

And that's all I'm going to say for now, until my self-imposed, fellow-movie-goer-sensitive, moratorium on discussing details of Sex and the City is over -- I think it needs to go another week -- BUT, instead what I would like to do right away -- in fact, I wish I had done it sooner -- is trash the NY Times totally unfair, inaccurate and mean-spirited review. Yes, Mahnola (Dargis, the hater/reviewer), these 4 gals still look Uh. May. ZZZZing. (Extra Z's for extra zing!)(KIM! You b*tch! What is your secret?????) They have lives that none of us have, and that not one of the 8 million plus real New Yorkers have -- and that few of us would actually want -- but it's called ENTERTAINMENT! It's not about life lessons or role modeling -- anyone old enough to be admitted to an "R" rated movie should have figured out better sources than HBO for wisdom and guidance by now! And if you think the jokes "fell flatter than Carrie's six pack"-- well, I don't know what funeral parlor you saw the film in, Mahnola, but in the theater where I thoroughly enjoyed (almost) every minute of their celluloid finale, each witticism, sight gag and pratfall was met with unrestrained peals of female laughter, with just enough recovery time in between. Run, in your four-inch heels, don't walk, to take in this cinematic summer gem. It sparkles as brightly as Carrie's crystal-encrusted cell-phone. And while you're at it, cancel your subscription to the NY Times.

Click here to read the review