Like any good television show worth its salt, Sex found its way into the pop culture canon. It got into our hearts, its characters, like so many before, becoming real people in our lives. Our parents had Dallas and M*A*S*H, and we got Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha. A story about the families we create for ourselves, about friendship and love, whipped dollops of fairytale drama mixed with enough heart and sarcasm to satisfy my every whim.
Four years after the series ended with a classic voiceover and a giant reveal (John?!) the ladies are back with the movie. The blogosphere's been abuzz for months, especially the last 30 days, press tours and spoiler-alerts rampant all over the globe. You can't turn on the television without anticipation, speculation and expectation. Like an imminent high school reunion, you have to wonder what's happened to everyone. Will they live up to your memory of them?
But I don't think it was possible for me to be disappointed. Like catching up with old friends, sometimes all you need is to see them, know they're doing okay, and reminisce a bit about the good old days. For the film's opening, like perfect bookends, I caught the 11:45AM matinée with Jeff and a 10:50PM with Sandi (and a city's worth of over-accessorized women). I'd stumbled upon enough spoilers to know a bit about the plot, but was pleasantly surprised by the stuff I didn't know. With enough subtle nods to the past to satiate the oldest and truest fan, Sex succeeds as a gift to the die hards and as a stand-alone romantic dramedy for the masses. Fear not, I won't go into detail.
The bittersweet part of yesterday was Brian's very loud absence. He's still in Australia - I'm sure there's a Samantha Jones-style down under joke in there somewhere. When he gets home, we'll pop in the DVD for every self-congratulatory second of Michael Patrick King's commentary, we'll pause on each hysterical facial expression Kristin Davis conjures, and, when it ends, we'll start at the beginning and watch over and over again.