Sex and the City 2: The Horror That Took Manhattan

by guest blogger Erin!

The other night, having little to do with myself which did not involve being a productive member of society, I took myself down to the local cinema, intent on watching a dazzling comedy, full of madcap adventure, strong performances and a bit of nostalgia for a time when I didn’t feel that the lead actors were phoning in their every performance.


Unfortunately, Get Him to the Greek was sold out.  So I watched Sex and the City 2 instead. 

Gentle readers, I haven’t seen a movie this horrifying and emotionally scarring since the time I sat on marla’s couch, watching the credits roll on Deadgirl, and wondering if I was ever going to be able to scrub the images in that movie out of my head (answer: no.  Which is why Deadgirl is awesome).  What’s worse is that my cinematic companions – that family in front sharing stale popcorn, the giggly girls in back who actually called each other “girlfriend,” as in, “you go, girlfriend!” – did not even realize the horror that was being splashed across the screen.  They mistakenly believed that this movie was some sort of comedic effort, but I knew better.  This movie is terror.  I shall endeavor now to detail for you all the evil machinations of the worst screen villain in years: the Excess Villain.


The movie opens with a shot of the island of Manhattan.  We catch our first glimpse of our villain as an ominous platinum cloud sweeps over the city, infecting all the inhabitants with an insatiable urge for excess and expenditure.   Run away, New Yorkers!  Put down your 15 dollar latte from Dean and Deluca and flee upstate! 

Unsettled, we turn to our naïve protagonist, Carrie, who is ruminating on all of the amazing attractions her city has to offer.  We can tell right away that Carrie is The Popular Girl, mostly because the doormen to her building treat her with respect, despite the fact that her wavy hair clearly has split ends.  The Popular Girl introduces us to her three very best friends; the Good Girl (Charlotte), the Smart Girl (Miranda), and the Slut (Samantha).  

The four friends laughingly discuss the upcoming social event of the season: the completely implausible wedding between two characters who have outright hated each other for years.  Everyone laughs gleefully at the prospect of the completely implausible wedding, but little do they know that the villain is lurking in the shadows, just waiting to strike.


Indeed, at the completely implausible wedding, the villain unleashes its first major attack.  Not content with merely renting out a country manor in Connecticut, or flying in swans, the Excess Villain also inflicts a chorus of singing gays upon the terror-ridden guests.  The wedding guests are rounded up and shunted onto the dance floor, where they are forced to endure Satan’s Handmaiden, Liza Minelli, performing the Single Ladies song and dance.  The gore and trauma reaches near cataclysmic proportions, as numerous Olds and Gays attempt to shimmy their way to safety.  Alas, they are nearly all choked by the beads on their vintage Diors or tripped up by their six-inch Manolos, and most of the cast succumbs, irreparably, to the Excess Villain.  Their deaths are violent and slow as the spangled claws of the Excess Villain drip drip drip with Swarovski crystals as it drags yet another unfortunate New Yorker to his or her ill-advised Ponzi schemed doom. 

Our main protagonists escape the villain by repairing to different rooms in the giant Connecticut mansion: Carrie and her husband, John Jimmy Preston, battle the villain by settling down in a bed and watching a far superior movie on a small-screen TV, Samantha usurps the demon by participating in the lowest common denominator (really loud sex), Charlotte and her husband deal with the world’s most popular annoyance, crying children, and Miranda and her husband do something boring off-screen, like usual. 

A new day dawns, and the main characters chat briefly about the damage wrought by the Excess Villain before turning their thoughts to more weighty matters, like Samantha’s aging vagina, how impossible it is to be a mom who works outside the home, how depressing Chinese food and old movies are, and Ireland, the Irish Nanny who doesn’t wear a bra.  Our hapless heroines spend a good deal of time discussing all of these salient plot points, but we the viewers know that they are merely trying to steel themselves for another attack by the Excess Villain.


Eventually the villain returns, as Samantha offers her friends an all-expense paid trip to “the New Middle East,” Abu Dhabi.  (hint:  because it’s the “new Middle East,” don’t worry about observing the culture or religious mores of the country.  I’m sure it’ll be totally fine if you show up in tiny shorts and a top that bares most of your breasts.  As long as the clothes are designer, of course.  Would you also care for a plate of assorted meats from the pig?)


The villain strikes hard and fast as the girls show up in Abu Dhabi.  Almost from the moment they touch foot on Middle Eastern soil, the Excess Villain begins to display its terrible power.  First it hits the girls with privately chauffeured product-placed luxury vehicles.  Then it deals a killing blow by unleashing upon them a monstrosity of a hotel suite, complete with private bar, expansive veranda and four private butlers.  And then, oh!  A privately escorted tour amongst the sands of Abu Dhabi, with servants hand-feeding them dates.  I fear the ladies are down for the count.


But, wait! The girls fight back tooth and nail, by learning heartwarming lessons about the little things in life, like:  it doesn’t matter that one of the poor and overworked butlers only gets to see his wife every three months, because every time he does see her it is meaningful; that mothers who don’t have nannies are very brave and tired; that sex on a public beach is a basic civil right; that sometimes you should just hang out on your couch with your significant other and eat some take-out so he’ll quit complaining, and that men just want to silence women forever.  Solidarity, girlfriend! 

The Excess Villain having done its worst, our heroines limp back to their New York City home, bedraggled and bedazzled.  Of course, I’m no horror movie newcomer, so I know what’s coming.  Just when we thought it was safe to go back in the water . . . . the Excess Villain strikes one more final time, in the form of a gigantic black diamond that Big gives Carrie to punish her for kissing her old boyfriend.  Damn, Excess Villain!  That’s just hardcore.


(editor’s note: read Erin’s other DIH posts here. And check her out on her own blog, Forever Young Adult, here.)

4 Responses to “Sex and the City 2: The Horror That Took Manhattan”

  1. Oh the horror!

  2. seriously, i think SATC2 is more scarring than human centipede. not that i’ve seen the latter because hell has not yet frozen over.

    erin, i applaud yr careful analysis, not to mention yr bravery in revealing the true face of the excess villain. it is not a face i ever want to see again, although i DO want to meet the writer/director dude so i can FACE PUNCH HIM INTO THE GROUND. WTF. did NO ONE read this script before they signed a contract? hello, everyone knows that you gotta read the fine print before you make a deal with the devil.

  3. I just don’t get who would agree to do this movie. Like Posh said, no one read the script, that’s how. I wonder if any of these women hate themselves for letting this go as far as it has.

    I was almost tempted to see this from a comedy standpoint but now I know that that would be stupid. Super stupid.

  4. That moral quandry, Beardy, is why God invented Netflix Streaming.

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