Sex and the City

I met up with four girlfriends on Monday night for dinner -- yes, there were cosmos -- and the 7:25 p.m. showing of Sex and the City at the Midtown Art Cinema here in ATL. I thought, for some ridiculous reason, that after the blockbuster weekend the lines would have diminished along with the mania. No way.

The courtyard outside the cinema was a veritable fashion show, with women of all ages dressed like they were going somewhere swanky for the evening or a fancy garden party -- cocktail dresses, big hats and lots and lots of heels. And, yes, I did spot some Manolo Blahniks, the shoes that have become synonymous with Sex and the City and its leading lady, Carrie Bradshaw. The movie was showing on two screens, and both theaters were full. I was the token gay tagging along with the sassy girls, but what's Sex and the City without a sassy gay? I'm totally down with ladies night.

I was a casual fan of Sex and the City during its six season run on HBO. I caught up with a good bit of it when the DVD boxed sets came out. It was funny, well written, and perfectly cast. Along with Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie, there were her gal pals: horny Samantha (Kim Cattrall), legal eagle Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) and happy homemaker Charlotte (Kristin Davis). They are all back for the film, which, let's be honest, is like watching four really good episodes of the show. And that's not a bad thing. Michael Patrick King, who helmed the series, wrote and directed the film and he does not let the fans down. It might be five years later, but the gals are still feisty, funny and often angsty, but the transfer from small to big screen is seamless.

Carrie and Mr. Big (Chris Noth) are still in love but casually decide to tie the knot after Big buys them an over-the-top penthouse in Manhattan. The proposal sets in motion both hilarious and sad situations. Carrie, who seems to have gotten even more famous since the series ended, gets caught up in the glamour of a celebrity wedding. The idea to have a simple ceremony in a vintage white suit with 75 guests gets thrown out the window when Vogue comes calling. They feature Carrie in high couture wedding dresses (including a sumptuous Vivienne Westwood gown the designer presents as a gift to Carrie) and a big article called "The Last Single Girl in New York." Suddenly, the wedding guest list is at 200 and the lavish ceremony and reception have given Big the big time jitters. And I do mean, BIG. What happens before the ceremony and Carrie's reaction is incredibly moving. Hats off to Sara Jessica Parker for getting these moments just right.

Meanwhile, Samantha has moved to LA to manage her boy toy Smith, who has become a big TV and film star. She's fighting to stay faithful, because she does love him, although temptation from the always naked and copulating hunk next door has her in deeply troubled lust. Miranda is living in Brooklyn and her world suddenly falls apart when husband Steve says he cheated on her. A nasty break up follows. Charlotte's life is so happy and perfect with her hubby and adopted daughter that she seems superfluous, so she's basically used for comic relief until almost the end of the movie.

When the girls head to Mexico on Carrie's should-have-been honeymoon, Parker also nails the depression and slow recovery of someone with a massive broken heart. Charlotte shits her pants (further proof that scatological humor can still work if done correctly as it is here), Miranda decides to stop bikini waxing and Samantha can't keep her eyes of the wait staff. Typical.

Once back in NYC, Carrie moves back into her old apartment, hires a sassy assistant (an excellent Jennifer Hudson) and tries to get on with her writing career. Miranda, on top of her pending divorce, feels guilty about telling Big during the rehearsal dinner that he was making a mistake marrying Carrie because it would ruin their relationship and Charlotte discovers she's pregnant. Samantha, who racks up thousands of frequent flyer miles as she jets between LA and her beloved NYC, buys a dog to keep her busy, overeats and discovers that she's subjugated her true nature to please Smith. That just can't go on.

To say anymore would ruin the film and how all the plot lines are resolved. There's tears, laughter, some unexpected male nudity and plenty of girl power. The audience, which clapped and hooted as the familiar theme music began, continued to clap and hoot all through the film. It was like being at a big slumber party. But let me say this: there never needs to be another Sex and the City movie. This one wraps everything up with a big, happy bow on top.