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The Zero Best Reasons To Go See "Sex And The City 2"

Here's your comprehensive guide to the overwhelmingly negative critical response to that new "Sex and the City" movie about the sands of time.

"Lawrence of My-Labia."


Has there been a recent movie as widely hated as "SATC 2: The Mummy Returns"? Not that I can think of, and I've been thinking about it since I started writing this sentence. Maybe "Gigli"? Dunno. Anyway: Consensus is that the movie's bad news, and not just for people who aren't fans of the series.



For instance, Roger Ebert said:




These people make my skin crawl.




And he's usually such a nice guy!



Dude ain't alone. Check out this hilariously low score on Rotten Tomatoes!





Ha ha ha! Stupid SATC2. Apparently, there's more going on than just the usual shoe buying and cosmo drinking and stuff. Turns out this sequel isn't banal, it's actually offensive! See, the Times' A.O. Scott is all like:




The ugly smell of unexamined privilege hangs over this film like the smoke from cheap incense.




and then Wajahat Ali in Salon is all:


Michael Patrick King's exquisitely tone-deaf movie is cinematic Viagra for Western cultural imperialists who still ignorantly and inaccurately paint the entire Middle East (and Iran) as a Shangri La in desperate need of liberation from ignorant, backward natives.


That doesn't sound fun AT ALL. Also in Salon, Andrew O'Hehir writes:


It would have been more merciful for writer-director Michael Patrick King to have rented Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda out to the "Saw" franchise.


Yikes, that is a sad thing. Well we could go on, and lift quotes from almost every major publication about how bad/not funny/rich in stereotypes the movie is, but instead you should just read all this from Lindy West, who writes for the Stranger is plain awesome:


"SATC2 takes everything that I hold dear as a woman and as a human—working hard, contributing to society, not being an entitled cunt like it's my job—and rapes it to death with a stiletto that costs more than my car. It is 146 minutes long, which means that I entered the theater in the bloom of youth and emerged with a family of field mice living in my long, white mustache. This is an entirely inappropriate length for what is essentially a home video of gay men playing with giant Barbie dolls.

...


"If I wasn't rich, I'd definitely just kill myself right away with a knife!" says everyone in this movie without having to actually say it.

...


If this is what modern womanhood means, then just fucking veil me and sew up all my holes. Good night.