Sex and the City 2: Critic Reviews

... a crummy little vehicle without dignity and too cramped for its fancy clothes.

With SATC2 we were supposed to get a peek at what's next. Instead we got a fanciful vacation and a lame and fluffy version of female power.

Samantha does everything but draw a picture of the Prophet Muhammad on a pair of crotchless panties.

Girls, let's have another Cosmpolitan and remember the past fondly. But make way for Chelsea [Handler]. She drinks vodka neat. She's a real woman.

Unlike the first film, this is self-involved, silly and whiny...and so are the characters.

Sarah Jessica Parker is now 45 years old, and, frankly, I cannot stomach another moment of the simpering, mincing, hair-tossing, eyelash-batting little-girl shtick she's been pulling ever since L.A. Story.

As for Sarah, looking like what the cat dragged in and then spit out, she's forgotten how to act. Whenever she's on screen, an immediate lack of energy is apparent. It's as if the screen's a black hole sucking up life like a Bounty towel on baby drool.

A new nadir. It's a movie that ignores just about every one of the show's good aspects and plays up everything bad - all while lasting an unforgivably long 146 minutes.

I realize that gaudy fantasy is essential to this franchise, but why does the fantasy have to be so stunted?

Michael Patrick King throws Carrie Bradshaw & Co. under the intellectual bus, making them do monumentally stupid things to satisfy the plot's demands.

When the best scenes in a movie feature Liza Minnelli singing "Single Ladies" and the foursome singing "I Am Woman," you know the concept has lost its sparkle.

These girls are so hung up on looking great they've forgotten there are several ways to be ugly.

It takes everything that was bad about the first Sex And The City movie, and nothing that was good about the Sex And The City TV series, and mixes it together with a bit of racism to create something even worse.

Once again, Michael Patrick King packs four movies into two and a half hours, and yet there's not quite enough substance for one film. There plenty of snappy one-liners and silly situations, but it will severely test the patience of any non-fan.

Whenever the light is just right and the angle is just plain wrong, each star gets an unflattering close-up that leaves them looking like drag-queen stand-ins.

"Memaws on Mid-Life Support." To see this movie again, you'd have to grab me by the Barneys and push me hard through the Dior.

There's only one thing worse than faking an orgasm: faking laughter. Shame on you, Sex and the City 2, for being a 2.5-hour laughless fake-a-thon that never finds the right spot.

So long as you're happy to suspend your sense of reality and turn a blind eye to the lack of depth in the story, you'll still find some enjoyment with our favourite fab four.

Sex and the City has turned into a bloated juggernaut of pointlessness. Its female characters are now beyond unbearable, none more so than Carrie.

It's all talk and no action.

Sex 2: Narcissism run rampant.

While I think it's cute that people get all dressed up and have little parties going to this movie, the actual film is a hellish, embarrassing abomination.

Best to quit now while there are still a few bubbles left in the champagne.

The film's tone-deaf cultural awareness extends to a boozy karaoke rendition of "I Am Woman" which is equal parts naive/patronising.

It may be easy to dismiss it as a merely superficial experience: it's all about the clothes, the shoes, the designer life, and of course that's part of it. But it's also about the lives of these women that we've shared for twelve years now.