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No more brunch discussions about orgasms. No more girlie advice about Mr. Big. No more “Sex.” After six seasons, HBO’s award-winning series “Sex and the City” bade the world good-bye as Sarah Jessica Parker strapped on her Manolo Blahniks for the last time and sauntered through the streets of New York City with her girlfriends. But not before a momentary relocation to Paris with “her Russian” (Mikhail Baryshnikov).
After Aleksandr Petrovsky, famed Russian artist, asked Carrie (Parker) to move with him to Paris, the reluctant romantic couldn’t escape the oh-so-dreamy idea of strolling down the Avenue de Champs Elysées on the arm of her cultured beau. When realization dawned, however, that she would forever be a backseat fixture (pardon the pun) to her lover’s artsy light fixtures, she realized that the romantic Paris getaway wasn’t quite the fairy tale ending she had imagined – nor, as luck would have it, one that show fans had quite pictured, either. Enter: Mr. Big. Carrie’s longtime on-again, off-again romance with Mr. Big (Chris Noth) came full-circle as the once- flippant lover arrived in Paris in an uncharacteristic air of humility to attempt to sweep her off her oh-so-stylish feet and back to the Big Apple. In a whirl of remorse (complete with at least one tear), indignation (“He hit you? I think I’m kickin’ some Russian ass”), and promises of selling his winery in Napa and moving back to New York, he offers her the big-city love she was hoping for along with the realization that the city she was meant to be in – and be in love in – isn’t in Europe.
And what of the rest of the fearsome foursome? Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is married to Steve, the bartender-turned-boyfriend-turned-ex-turned-one-night- stand who ultimately became father-of-unplanned-baby-turned-husband, and the pair packed up their new family and moved to Brooklyn. Ever reluctant to open up, Miranda – in a moment of pure selflessness – realizes that her marriage carries certain obligations. (“Oh my God – I’m married.”) And so she opens her heart not only to her own family, but to Steve’s mother, whose stroke-induced memory impairment makes it impossible for her to continue to live alone. Charlotte (Kristin Davis) has accepted – at least for the moment – that she may never get pregnant, and has settled in with her husband, Harry, and their litter of puppies to await the arrival of their adopted Chinese baby girl. And even Samantha, ever the wild child, seems to have settled. Perhaps it is partly to do with her battle with breast cancer, or perhaps the incessant ticking of the biological clock is contagious, but for whatever reason she seems – dare we say it – content in a monogamous relationship. At least for the time being. (Although surely doesn’t hurt that said relationship is with current movie it-kid Smith Jerrod (Jason Lewis).)
Perhaps the only thing that the series finale left to be desired was a little bit of the show’s characteristic “chicks rule” attitude. Normally a show that would cringe at the idea that women need to be coupled in order to have a happy ending, suddenly Big – who spent five seasons firmly established as the resident jerk – came riding oh-so-gallantly through on his white horse to whisk poor Carrie back home. And yet, we couldn’t help but swoon. And the screams of delight from the girls at Carrie’s reappearance in the city left no doubt as to which relationships she truly would have missed. Bad breakups. (“I was once dumped by a guy’s doorman. ‘I’m sorry Ms. Hobbes. Jonathan won’t be coming down. Ever.’”) Binge eating. (“I have low self-esteem, but I express it the healthy way – by eating a box of Double Stuf Oreos.”) Bitterness. (“I had often fantasized about running into my ex and his wife. But in those fantasies, I was running over him with a truck.”) Rejection. (“Puberty is a phase. Fifteen years of rejection is a lifestyle.”) What girl hasn’t been through it? (Albeit in a slightly less fabulous wardrobe.)
The archetype for the independent, strong-willed, and endearingly neurotic single girl, Carrie has paved the way for women everywhere. Her unapologetic lust for a pair of $400 shoes made us feel less guilty about our own extravagances. Her complete inability to forego her vices – at least until the reward was sexy anti-smoker Aidan (John Corbett) – lessened our shame about all of our own shortcomings. And her seemingly endless quest for answers in a world of daunting questions made us feel less alone – and more like “one of the girls.” And, after six years of questions, relationship advice and soul-searching – not to mention soul-mate searching – Carrie offered her final, parting words of wisdom: “The most exciting, challenging, and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you you love – well, that’s just fabulous.”
Directed by Sofia Coppola and starring Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson, “Lost In Translation” isn’t a movie made for the weak-spirited. Despite being only one hour and 45 minutes in length, it’s the kind of realistic film that tends to fall in the trap of dragging on at a pace which is slower than human patience can stand. “Lost in Translation” is set in Tokyo, Japan, and is the story of an American actor who has lost his sense of purpose and direction in life.
As he nearly drowns himself in whiskey at the hotel bar every night, the camera focuses on an equally desolate figure, the young wife (Johansson) of a busy and clueless photographer. The two are destined to meet from the start. The plot of this movie lies somewhere between their soul-searching self-discovery attempts and the intimidating portrayal of Tokyo as a city that is out to eat foreigners alive. At the risk of giving away the ending, let’s just say that they are happier when they leave than when they first met.
What you must prepare yourself for in this film is the simple fact that you can’t really enjoy it unless you have a particular liking for very realistic, very simple artistic movies. “Translation” is not crowded with dialogue but the images of Tokyo are plentiful. There are no subtitles when Japanese is spoken, thus forcing the viewer to experience the same sense of hopelessness that Murray does. It’s a different kind of experience for everyone involved and certainly won’t be enjoyed by all. Nevertheless, having gotten such high approval from critics and viewers alike, one must realize that it can’t be that bad.
Please see Movies on page 13
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