It's Tuesday! Some SATC trivia to brighten your afternoon.
(1) Tutu. Carrie wasn't meant to wear a tutu in the opening credits. She was meant to wear a fairly conservative dress. But smart people had another idea. The showrunner(s) felt doubtful about the tutu idea. So the opening credits were shot in two ways: conservative, and with tutu.
The climbing marimba slides down, and climbs again, and slides back down (just as Carrie is often tripping over herself). The bus that does the splashing happens to feature an image of Carrie in all her powerful-icon glory--so we have Carrie-at-her-best juxtaposed with mortified-Carrie (Carrie-splashed-with-muddy-water).
Watching Carrie in the tutu, the showrunners understood that the weird costume was the way to go. For Carrie, eccentric clothing can be an expression of confidence. That tutu makes the interlude seem especially high-stakes. Wonderful. (And it seems to me that Patricia Field deserves major credit for what this show became. Sarah Jessica Parker insisted on Field's vision for the wardrobe. I admire SJP for demanding to wear ugly, garish clothing, on occasion. The idea wasn't to look relentlessly beautiful, but to experiment, and to make occasional mistakes. This show is responsible for reminding me that I do care, at least a little bit, about visual style--and, with "Mad Men," SATC is lovely to look at, regardless of what is happening in almost any given scene.)
(2) Michael Patrick King. I just sat through the aggressively, brutally tedious film "Leave No Trace." It's adored by critics--all critics. I couldn't stand the humorlessness, the plainness of the clothing, the witlessness, the painfully slow pacing.
Michael Patrick King doesn't get the critical love that Debra Granik gets--but give me Michael Patrick King any day. (Is it a competition? No, but I'm making it one.) Michael Patrick King is responsible for at least three Blue Ribbon episodes of SATC. (He is actually responsible for many more.) The ones I'm thinking of right now are: "Easy Come, Easy Go," "Running with Scissors," and "The Man, the Myth, the Viagra."
The first two of these three concern Carrie's affair with Mr. Big. ("Running with Scissors," the title, is a tip of the hat to another important gay writer, Augusten Burroughs.) So startling to see the protagonist of an alleged rom-com in this situation. The attention to human foibles is exquisite. Mr. Big meets Aidan as his wife badmouths Aidan's furniture-for-sale. Charlotte learns to extract an engagement from Trey by stroking his wrist, as his mother does. Samantha persuades Bobby Cannavale to drink a spinach smoothie to "improve" the taste of his semen. Charming!
And then "Man, Myth, Viagra": Urban legends are explored. A woman could sign on to wedded bliss with an octogenarian tycoon--after one night of passion. A one-night stand with the bartender could become a meaningful relationship. Michael Patrick King may not write with great subtlety or limitless depth, but his fast-moving cartoonish-ness continues to awe and entertain me.
(3) Change of a Dress. Michael Patrick King didn't write this one, but I still love it. It's the moment Carrie says goodbye to Aidan for good. She does it because a wedding dress has caused her to break out into hives. (Not "Change of Address," but "Change of a Dress.") Looking at the footage of the classic Columbus Circle scene, the directors felt they hadn't caught a great emotional shot from SJP. But then they realized they had something: There was a moment when SJP flubbed her line, and it was late, and she was tired, and the actress (not the character) flashed a look of self-castigation and disappointment. That moment was spliced in, as a rejoinder to something particularly cutting Aidan had said. That's a wrap!
What I especially love here is the ending. Aidan has been demolishing a wall to turn Carrie's apartment into a sprawling home. To avoid sleeping with Carrie, newly-single Aidan sets up an air mattress in the netherworld, "beyond the wall." Restless, newly-single Carrie steps into the hallway, "through the wall," and onto Aidan's air mattress. The two cuddle together, sadly. "That was the only night we slept together on the other side of the wall." Such a nice metaphor for the trickiness of relationships, crossing boundaries, improvising in the midst of messiness. Too on-the-nose? You wouldn't be the first to make that allegation about SATC.
I started watching SATC in earnest this summer, in part because I missed living in New York City. (Not that Carrie's experiences matched mine--but I still liked seeing the city.) Also, I had read the excellent volume "Sex and the City and Us," maybe the best book I've encountered this summer. (As strong as the writer's previous effort, "Seinfeldia.") I've settled into New Jersey a bit more, but I still find myself revisiting SATC. I look forward to seeing what Michael Patrick King does next.
(1) Tutu. Carrie wasn't meant to wear a tutu in the opening credits. She was meant to wear a fairly conservative dress. But smart people had another idea. The showrunner(s) felt doubtful about the tutu idea. So the opening credits were shot in two ways: conservative, and with tutu.
The climbing marimba slides down, and climbs again, and slides back down (just as Carrie is often tripping over herself). The bus that does the splashing happens to feature an image of Carrie in all her powerful-icon glory--so we have Carrie-at-her-best juxtaposed with mortified-Carrie (Carrie-splashed-with-muddy-water).
Watching Carrie in the tutu, the showrunners understood that the weird costume was the way to go. For Carrie, eccentric clothing can be an expression of confidence. That tutu makes the interlude seem especially high-stakes. Wonderful. (And it seems to me that Patricia Field deserves major credit for what this show became. Sarah Jessica Parker insisted on Field's vision for the wardrobe. I admire SJP for demanding to wear ugly, garish clothing, on occasion. The idea wasn't to look relentlessly beautiful, but to experiment, and to make occasional mistakes. This show is responsible for reminding me that I do care, at least a little bit, about visual style--and, with "Mad Men," SATC is lovely to look at, regardless of what is happening in almost any given scene.)
(2) Michael Patrick King. I just sat through the aggressively, brutally tedious film "Leave No Trace." It's adored by critics--all critics. I couldn't stand the humorlessness, the plainness of the clothing, the witlessness, the painfully slow pacing.
Michael Patrick King doesn't get the critical love that Debra Granik gets--but give me Michael Patrick King any day. (Is it a competition? No, but I'm making it one.) Michael Patrick King is responsible for at least three Blue Ribbon episodes of SATC. (He is actually responsible for many more.) The ones I'm thinking of right now are: "Easy Come, Easy Go," "Running with Scissors," and "The Man, the Myth, the Viagra."
The first two of these three concern Carrie's affair with Mr. Big. ("Running with Scissors," the title, is a tip of the hat to another important gay writer, Augusten Burroughs.) So startling to see the protagonist of an alleged rom-com in this situation. The attention to human foibles is exquisite. Mr. Big meets Aidan as his wife badmouths Aidan's furniture-for-sale. Charlotte learns to extract an engagement from Trey by stroking his wrist, as his mother does. Samantha persuades Bobby Cannavale to drink a spinach smoothie to "improve" the taste of his semen. Charming!
And then "Man, Myth, Viagra": Urban legends are explored. A woman could sign on to wedded bliss with an octogenarian tycoon--after one night of passion. A one-night stand with the bartender could become a meaningful relationship. Michael Patrick King may not write with great subtlety or limitless depth, but his fast-moving cartoonish-ness continues to awe and entertain me.
(3) Change of a Dress. Michael Patrick King didn't write this one, but I still love it. It's the moment Carrie says goodbye to Aidan for good. She does it because a wedding dress has caused her to break out into hives. (Not "Change of Address," but "Change of a Dress.") Looking at the footage of the classic Columbus Circle scene, the directors felt they hadn't caught a great emotional shot from SJP. But then they realized they had something: There was a moment when SJP flubbed her line, and it was late, and she was tired, and the actress (not the character) flashed a look of self-castigation and disappointment. That moment was spliced in, as a rejoinder to something particularly cutting Aidan had said. That's a wrap!
What I especially love here is the ending. Aidan has been demolishing a wall to turn Carrie's apartment into a sprawling home. To avoid sleeping with Carrie, newly-single Aidan sets up an air mattress in the netherworld, "beyond the wall." Restless, newly-single Carrie steps into the hallway, "through the wall," and onto Aidan's air mattress. The two cuddle together, sadly. "That was the only night we slept together on the other side of the wall." Such a nice metaphor for the trickiness of relationships, crossing boundaries, improvising in the midst of messiness. Too on-the-nose? You wouldn't be the first to make that allegation about SATC.
I started watching SATC in earnest this summer, in part because I missed living in New York City. (Not that Carrie's experiences matched mine--but I still liked seeing the city.) Also, I had read the excellent volume "Sex and the City and Us," maybe the best book I've encountered this summer. (As strong as the writer's previous effort, "Seinfeldia.") I've settled into New Jersey a bit more, but I still find myself revisiting SATC. I look forward to seeing what Michael Patrick King does next.
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