I remember when I saw Titanic, at the end it’s an overhead shot while she’s floating on the big wooden door, and he’s dying in the cold water next to her, and all I could think was “there is totally room for two people on that raft.” I mean, sure, he’d made one pitiful attempt to get up there, it had tilted, and then he just gave up. WTF?

Anyhow, that’s exactly how I feel about the main plot of the Sex and the City movie. Major spoilers behind the cut.

Okay, so Big has been going out with Carrie for ten years, and is getting married the next day, but doesn’t have phone numbers for her best friends Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte, Stanford, or the wedding planner? Any of whom he could have called and said “I need to talk to Carrie” when she wasn’t answering her cell phone. One hour, multiple calls, trying something different never crossed his mind?

And he didn’t humiliate her. She humiliated herself, by totally overreacting when he finally did reach her and said “I can’t do this.” So she immediately drops the phone and says, “it’s off! get me out of here!” Yeah, he totally could have been talked down from that—she knows it’s the hoopla that’s the problem, not her, she’d already talked him down once, yet she totally freaks out instead of trying to do anything to save it? What bullshit.

There was almost a wonderful and much-needed message in there about not letting the pageantry of a wedding become more important than people, but unfortunately Carrie was able to displace her own guilt for ruining it all onto Miranda’s ill-chosen cry. Like Big, of all people, would pay any attention to the words spewed by a woman who’s just been arguing with her estranged husband who cheated on her.

Add in Jennifer Hudson playing the wise old mammy despite only being twenty, and I didn’t really like Sex and the City. I enjoyed watching it, it was cute, but I didn’t like it.