...is the word I'd use to describe some of the reviews I've read so far of "Sex And The City, The Movie".
a vulgar, shrill, deeply shallow — and, at 2 hours and 22 turgid minutes, overlong
The latter Carrie is the one we get in this padded push-up version of "Sex and the City." She's a half-pint Norma Desmond: Every time she does something as simple as walk through a doorway, she's announcing, "I'm ready for my closeup."
The movie's costumes have, once again, been scrounged up by the dread Patricia Field, who puts poor Carrie into a series of god-awful designer mishmashes that might have been tolerable on the small screen but that scream down at us like banshees from the big one.
I'm trying to round up some of my LA Bagista's to go see it on Sunday. If we make it, I'll give you my review.