I Ate My DVD Collection

NOTE FROM MATT: Hey everybody, sorry for the little break, but I was just a bit burned out from reviewing.  But lo and behold, here comes Nicole, contributor #4 (but really the fourth number 1 in our hearts) to make sure that they layoff isn’t too long.  Friday will still be blank, but I’ll be back on Saturday with a review of the Walkmen’s fantastic new album, You and Me.  Nicole will be making sure to add a new perspective to IAMDC that we haven’t seen as of yet.  Enjoy!

As a female living in New York City during the school year, seeing “Sex and the City:  The Movie” provided all of the impetus I needed to revisit the T.V. series and see whether I couldn’t review it from a more objective standpoint than I could have five years ago.  As it turns out, the comfort of watching the entire series in a dorm room, in order and with a critical eye, was far preferable to the glances stolen behind a mother’s shoulder.

Admittedly, the show is easier to review from a defensive stance:  the allure of New York City’s glamorous backdrop; the equally exotic fashion labels that are constantly name-dropped; and the chemistry among the fabulous four (Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha), who shop, meet for breakfast, and have sex ’til they drop is rarely contested when debating the merits of the sitcom.  I’ve therefore decided that the bulk of this commentary will address the most frequently aired complaints against SATC.

-“SATC is so unrealistic and promotes a culture that places too high a premium on labels and other expensive finery.”

Sure, the girls have impossibly extravagant lifestyles – brownstones in the Upper East Side or apartments in the Meatpacking District?  Closets filled not with skeletons, but with hundreds of pairs of Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik shoes?  Four successful women unremittingly discussing men?  While none of this may seem feasible, remember that, unlike other popular sitcoms set in New York City (“Friends” comes to mind), SATC features a quartet, comprising a newspaper columnist, a self-employed public relations executive, a corporate lawyer, and an art dealer, whose members can conceivably flourish in an expensive metropolis.  (Carrie’s financial situation seems less believable than the others’, though – if anyone can tell me how a weekly columnist and, later, freelance writer for Vogue magazine can survive comfortably in New York without a day job other than “sexual anthropologist,” let me know.)

The key to pulling off a dramatic comedy about four single women is the self-deprecating humor of its four main characters.  The girls consume as much inexpensive Chinese food as they do pricey martinis.  Carrie sacrifices a trip of international excess with Amalita Amalfi because she admits that she has to pinch pennies.  Miranda bakes a chocolate cake rather than purchase a $94 gateau because her boycott of men can only get so expensive.  Although they are proud of being able to support themselves comfortably in the big city, the girls accept their financial shortcomings with tongue-in-cheek, good-humored grace.

But then the girls tackle less humorous situations and respond in similarly realistic ways.  The girls vilify Charlotte’s decision to quit her job to become a full-time mother, insisting that financial independence is part of her leverage as an individual.  Charlotte gives Carrie her wedding ring, without which her friend could not afford the down payment on her apartment because her excessive spending habits have disqualified her from being a viable loan contender (could Carrie’s penchant for excessive footwear have been spotlighted more negatively?).  Miranda realizes that she must move to Brooklyn and take care of her ailing mother-in-law because of the commitment she made to her family.  The idea here is that, throughout the series, the girls are presented with everyday conflicts about money and independence and respond in kind.

When in conflict, the girls prioritize intimate romance over expensive items and surrender lavish lifestyles in Paris in the name of “ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love,” as Carrie does with Petrovsky.  Do women everywhere unconsciously crave Louis Vuitton bags and Manolo Blahnik shoes more than they did before witnessing the barrage of materialism that SATC entails?  Maybe, but the intelligent viewer can also internalize the self-deprecation of the fabulous four and realize that, while the fashion-related items in SATC function as symbols of the girls’ go-getting personalities and unapologetic self-expression, the show places a much higher premium on values than on retail therapy, as friendship and love are dubbed the real “labels that never go out of style.”  (This line is actually from the movie, but who’s keeping track?)

-“SATC promotes the objectification of men.”

It is true that Carrie has referred to at least one man as “something she’s trying on.”  But just as they do with the girls’ outlandish spending habits, the writers of the show make sure to punish such behavior.  Several examples of such karma-driven retributions prove that the series should be taken with a grain of salt and that the girls’ exploits should not be tried at home:  for instance, when Charlotte attempts to “double-book” dates, both men, who turn out to be charming and engaging, reject her in an unfortunate encounter among the three involved parties.

But the girls are made to do more than atone for their behavior; rather, they realize that men are neither socialite contenders for marriage to be ranked based on an aggregate score of wealth, looks, and manners, nor are they simply people with whom to have sex and promptly dispose of afterwards.  By the end of the show, Miranda marries her down-to-earth, funny, and consistently supportive yet assertive best friend, whom she was initially all set to dismiss as a one-night stand.  The commitment-phobic Samantha finds her perfect match in a devoted, practical, and (of course) sexually astute young actor.  Carrie, of course, is looking for, and ultimately finds, something Big.  And, perhaps most notably, Charlotte ends up with a man who is “so not her type.”  He is not a refined socialite:  instead, he is an uncouth divorce attorney.  He seems unaware of his baldness or his stocky stature, but he is all too aware of Charlotte, and, while he proves intolerant of her religion-based guilt-trips (“I gave up Christ for you, and you can’t give up the Mets?”), he unabashedly adores her.  It turns out that Charlotte was not looking for a handsome, rich, charming bachelor; rather, she fell for the opposite of her ideal partner, simultaneously highlighting the show’s real take on perfect men and further condemning the worst kind of bourgeois materialism that her previously-held views on men espoused.  SATC values individualistic men and independent women equally, which proves all the more appropriate when analyzing the couples that result at the show’s conclusion.  What do these couples say about “Sex and the City”?

By the end of the show, the couples in SATC complement the best in each character and mitigate their negative traits:  Miranda learns to compromise, Samantha embraces intimacy, Carrie reevaluates her true goal in life, and Charlotte rejects her old prejudices.  But the men are not merely catalysts for the girls’ self-actualization, as they are legitimate characters unto themselves, with their own appeal and conflicts.  While the girls may try men on for size throughout the show, those with whom they find a perfect fit are so fabulous precisely because they are not objectified:  they challenge the girls’ preconceived, reductionist notions about men.

-“SATC is shallow, not smart.”

As I’ve already focused on the subtle interplay between materialism and values and on the generalizations and realizations concerning men, I’ll address specifics of the writing.  Firstly, the show is littered with razor-sharp one-liners:  “Cupid has flown the co-op.”  “Everywhere I looked, people were in twos.  It was like Noah’s Upper-West Side, Rent-Controlled Ark.”  “Samantha could always be counted on to take life’s lemons and turn them into Spanish fly.”  The dialogue is undeniably clever:  although the plot has recently been reduced in parodies to four women clustered around a circular table, trading euphemisms and puns while sipping Cosmopolitans, the characterization of the bubbly Carrie, the sardonic Miranda, the starry-eyed Charlotte, and the self-possessed Samantha is never more sharp (or humorous) than during their chats over brunch.  Furthermore, the way each episode is framed around Carrie’s thematic questions and narrative insights on the girls’ sexual escapades is instantly recognizable in the world of television:  to watch SATC is to witness the formation of each of Carrie’s articles.  Coupled with its nuanced treatment of materialism, men and self-esteem, “Sex and the City” is ultimately as smart as it is fabulous.

Lastly, my favorite thing about the show is that the plot embraces real, compatible love:  Carrie ultimately eschews the grand gestures of Aleksandr Petrovsky and the confining affection of Aidan Shaw because she realizes that she is looking for something Big.  In the end, that is what “Sex and the City” is about:  prioritizing your relationship with yourself before attempting to find someone who can love the things you love about yourself.

Despite my personal gripes with the show (Why do they keep dressing the fair-skinned, redheaded Miranda in red?  Why does Carrie’s narrative voice become increasingly shrill as the show goes on?), I’ve realized that there’s no need to defend “Sex and the City.”  It’s a light-hearted show about living in the city in a Big way.  What could be more fabulous?  Of course, the answer is, actually living the dream.  Is such a thing possible?  Maybe I’ll start writing a weekly column and get back to you in a few years.  Blogging seems like a decent start!