Sex In The City, by Michael Davis
No less than eight women and two gay men, all friends of mine, have asked me whether or not I was going to see the Sex And The City movie. I’m lucky (or unlucky depending on your point of view) to be able to see Hollywood films before their release. I have seen Sex And The City. Before you go on, I must tell you that I am going to reveal important plot elements as well as the surprise ending.
The plot of the films is this: four friends, Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda, are now all over forty and dealing with life at middle age. Carrie and Mr. Big are planning their wedding. Mr. Big finally tells Carrie what he does for a living and how he got his nickname.
The scene played out like this:
Carrie: Now that we are going to be married, don’t you think I should know your real name and what you do for a living?
Mr. Big: Yes, Carrie, but you better sit down.
Carrie sits down. She has a look of fear and anticipation on her face.
Mr.Big: I love you, Carrie. No matter what happens between us please know I love you.
A tear starts to roll down Carrie’s cheek.
Carrie: You… you’re scaring me Big.
Mr.Big: I’m sorry baby. Look, there is no other way to say this so I’m just going to say it.
Carrie is now shaking and the tears are flowing freely. She begins to sob.
Mr. Big: Carrie, sweetheart, love of my life, apple of my eye… I do hard-core porn.
Carrie’s mouth drops open and she starts to say something but Mr. Big silences her.
Mr. Big: Hard core gay porn, Carrie. Hard core gay porn.
Carrie is shocked, but she is determined to find out everything.
Carrie: Your name, what’s your real name?
Mr. Big: “Big” is my real first name it’s Black Irish. My last name is Richard. I use my nickname for my stage name.
Carrie: Which is?
Mr. Big: Dick.
Carrie: So I’m engaged to a…
Mr.Big: Big Dick.
Carrie wipes the tears from her face as she tries to remain calm.
Carrie: Black Irish eh? Wow, I never knew that. Do you have a middle name?
Mr.Big: Yes, I was named by my grandfather who was a fiercely proud Black Irish man he wanted to make sure I never forgot my Black Irish heritage.
Carrie: That’s sweet. What is your middle name?
Mr. Big: Black.
The ending of the film threw me for a loop. Samantha has developed a new type of sexually transmitted disease. So potent is the disease that you can catch it simply by answering your phone if she calls you. The government has identified her as Patient Zero and has issued a federal arrest warrant for her. Sam decides she would prefer to run away than be put away. Her friends, Charlotte and Miranda join her on the lam. Carrie does not join them she has decided to marry Mr. Big despite his profession. She came to this decision after taking a look at her biological clock and noting that the expiration date stamped on her little ass was about to expire.
The police have her three friends cornered in a shoe store. They would have gotten away but they saw a sale sign and they just had to stop to buy some “On the run wear.” Carrie and Mr. Big watch on television as the three fugitives shoot it out with the law. The store catches fire and the three friends decide not to come out but to die together.
They just can’t leave all those shoes.
Miranda reportedly screamed the last words heard from inside the store; “Samantha, I don’t care if we are about to die, I’m not licking anything!”
Watching the events unfold on TV, Carrie hugs Mr. Big tightly. She comes to the stark realization that her best friends are gone forever. Her pain is tangible, so much so it seems to rest like a giant cinder block on her head. As Mr. Big holds his soon to be wife, slowly touching and smoothing her hair, he says to her, “Think about the future Carrie, our future.”
Carrie realizes he is right. She decides she will honor her friends by living the best life she can. She will embrace the future. Slowly the scene and the movie fades to black as Carrie lifts her head to the sky and begins to whisper to her absent friends, “Goodbye girls. I will go on for you. I love Big Dick, but I will never forget you.”
Yeah, the above was a pretty juvenile ending to a long awaited film. I almost wonder how the movie really ended.
OH HELL NO, I have not seen or intend to see Sex And The City. It’s my own damn fault those ten people asked me if I would. Last week in my stupidity I told the world my favorite movie was My Best Friend’s Wedding. Yeah, I love that film, I love a lot of different kinds of films but liking My Best Friend’s Wedding does not enter me into the chick flick of the month club.
Now, if they include my above scenario or something as cool as that in the Sex And The City film then I would stand on line like gas was fifty cents a gallon to see that movie. Women will flock to Sex in the Citythen they will all go into trendy coffee bars and gush about what they saw. Some women will insist that their men go with them to see the movie. I am so tempted to stand outside the theater showing the movie and mouth the word ‘Pussy’ to each and every man who accompanies his lady.
OK, I know I’m being silly and I am a firm believer in to each his own but over the last week the hype surrounding this film from women has just made my head spin. This is the must see chick flick event of the year.
All this hype got me thinking. A film like this really deals with relationships, which women seem to really care about. Film and TV do a real great job-reaching women. Sadly, comics do not.
Sure there are some great independent comics that deal with relationships very well but the big boys Marvel and DC really don’t reach women. Look, do not throw Sandman or any other such abnormally in my face. I’m taking about comic’s bread and butter, superheroes.
We have all seen how superhero women are portrayed, tight spandex and huge… personalities.
So with all this in mind I’m here to help. I’m here to help Hollywood bring in more men to chick flicks and I’m here to help comics bring in more women.
For Hollywood, it’s simple. Like my Sex And The City plot twist, give men something to talk about when they leave the theater. No, not something like women talk about: “I really felt Carrie’s love when she looked into Mr. Big’s eyes.” With my plot twist men can come out and have something to talk about. They could say, “Wow Mr. Big did gay porn. Ugh.” Or, “Wow, Samantha was a Ho, but boy could see handle a Uzi.”
For comics it’s just as simple to bring women into our industry. Let’s say that Clark Kent and Lois Lane are talking about something, let that something be (wait for it) his feelings!
Chicks LOVE to talk about their feeling. Men? We like breasts.
Now don’t forget about the men out there. How about a story line where Wonder Woman has to go under cover or simply has to make a little extra money? To keep the men readers she can take a job as a striper. Man, I know I would lose some dollar bills watching Diana Prince on the pole! Now this storyline may be a problem with the new girl readers but I have a solution to that also, while she’s stripping she could be thinking about (wait for it) her feelings.
Look, I’m glad that women have something this summer that they can be excited about and to all you guys who go with their girls I respect that. Hey, don’t think I was serious about calling you names. I support your decision to see the film. Remember to talk about your feelings after the movie. You may want to say “I feel like I have wasted two hours of my life and I really feel you better put out.”
Speaking of “feelings.” I want to take a sec and thank all those people who looked out for me last week. I seem to be doing better. Truth be told I was doing great. Then I saw the new Indiana Jones movie. Don’t get me started…
Michael Davis works in Hollywood loves the movies. And that, friends, is Sex IN the City.