Skip to main content

SJP: "Sex and the City"

 One piece of "Sex and the City" lore is that no plot or subplot can see the light of day unless it has its roots in an actual event from a staff writer's life.


Again and again, you can think, "Yes, that does seem like something that might actually happen to me." Some examples. Che Diaz seems to reject physical contact, and this behavior sends up red flags, but really Che is just feeling weird about Che's gut (because of comments from TV producers).

Or: Seema dumps a guy because he has an odd "renter" arrangement with his ex-wife, and then Seema becomes defensive when her hairdresser accuses her of always rushing to judgment.

Finally, Nya's discovery of her own "extramarital feelings" happens on the same night that she (accurately) accuses her estranged husband of indulging a roving eye.

All of this interests me, but here's my concern: The stories don't add up to a TV show. There isn't a sense of urgency on the page. Also, the characters don't seem like characters; they seem like bits of furniture, and they're shoved around and rearranged for fifty minutes (and these minutes move slowly).

Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions. I do think the writer responsible for "Che Pasa," and for Che's standup routine, ought to receive his pink slip. (That's you, Michael Patrick King.)

More later.

P.S. The writers have said they're "in on the joke" with reference to Che. But if that's true, why has no one pointed out that Che's comedy is very bad? Miranda is intelligent; however, I guess she is (also) blinded and besotted right now. What about Carrie?
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more

My Favorite Pop Song

  One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...."  I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...
Post a Comment
Read more