It's like we heard the news about the Sex and the City sequel, opened our mouths to comment, and then Daily Intel wrote: "Doing another Sex and the City movie is universally acknowledged to be a bad idea for everyone except the producers who will get rich off of it." So, yeah. What they said.
Listen, we know the ladies are lovable characters. We know the movie made $415 million dollars - not Madoff numbers, but that's a lot of Magnolia Bakery cupcakes. We've even defended the enterprise, on occasion, on account of its relative complexity in portraying certain subtleties of female friendships. But when we think of the cockamamie madventures the writers are sweatily cooking up to plug into the SATC template, we can't help but imagine there'll be some straw-grasping involved.
Sure enough, the deal came well before the story: Access Hollywood got wind that "Executive Producer Michael Patrick King is still working on coming up with a plot" for the damn thing. We've had cancer, fatness, altar-dumping, infidelity, caring for ill parents, pregnancy, adoption, cross-country relocation, and then some. By our soap opera map, we're just about to enter the land of implausible ideas. Who's up for a long-lost twin? Amnesia, maybe? Ooh, time-travel!
If the producers really want us to sit up and take notice, they could take the path of sober reality: The girls deal with a New York in financial tatters, where $800 shoes aren't the fun, frothy afterthought they used to be. In fact, the store they used to shop at may very well be closed. That we'd pay to see.
