Sex and the City 2

Okay, yes of course it's bad. Something doesn't get the kind of reviews it's gotten without being really fucking bad. The first one was bad; this one is bad. It's still not entirely clear why that has to be the case, but it seems to be a fact at this point that Sex and the City movies are bad.

So how bad is it? And is there still a redemptive reason to go shell out $12 to see it?

It's so bad that you talk to your friend throughout the whole showing, somewhere between speech, laugh and wail:

"Why! Why!"

"I expected more of Miranda!"

"This plotline is so desperate!"

"Just wait, now it's going to get even worse"

"Does she really not know anything about relationships?"

"Oh carrie."

"That line's so bad she can barely say it!"

You bury your head in your hand and laugh, not at the jokes but at the shame.

It's so bad that when the fabulous fashion and the opulent wealth fill the screen, all you can think about is carbon footprints. "It's obscene," you cry into your friend's shoulder. "They're already rich! Why do they want moooore?"

It's so bad that when Samantha cries out "Lawrence of my labia!" about a hot Danish architect and gamely throws herself on to her friends in girlish longing, for the first time in the movie you have an inkling of why the gals are in Abu Dhabi: because Michael Patrick King thought of that line first and wondered how he could use it.

It's so bad that when Carrie gets upset about a caricature drawing of herself that accompanies a bad review of her new book in the New Yorker, the image of a woman with crisscrossed tape over her mouth is only offensive until you remember the movie you are watching and agree with the reviewer that perhaps Carrie should consider not speaking anymore.

And yet...and yet...it's still kinda fun!

What the Sex and the City movies have become is a sort of girly version of Startrek. When Carrie goes on an idiotic date with Mr. Big, she wear a dress patterned with the New York Times typeface and a woman in the orchestra level of the theater -- I was in the Mezzanine at Lincoln Square -- screamed out "I love that dress!" A little murmur went through the crowd: "wait, which episode was that dress from?" “I remember that episode!”

At one point, which I dare not give away lest I spoil the moment for some other intrepid movie-goer, something happens that we all thought was a bad idea and spontaneously, everyone hissed! I was right there with them. Screaming, booing and hissing! Girl you didn't! I wouldn’t have been surprised if popcorn and junior mints were thrown. It was phenomenal.

And then later, at the comic climax of the movie, when things take a turn so lurid and outrageous that I genuinely cracked up, everyone in the audience was howling and cheering!

The audience didn't laugh at the bad jokes. They landed like giant pancakes in a swimming pool. The audience didn't coo over the insane wealth or the false notes. But everyone was there to have a good time. The movie is such a mess, especially in the insane second half, that the theater felt like going into the kitchen at a wild party. "Look at those people out there!" the strangers were saying to each other, leaning up against the fridge. "What the hell is going on."

At one crucial (and totally cliched, but actually well-written, which made it rare) moment, when Miranda and Charlotte have a drink just the two of them and confess that certain things about motherhood aren't perfect, there was a sense that we were all at that bar with them, taking long sips of our martinis in order to be able to face the mad and chaotic debris of what was once a beloved series.

It’s the kind of movie you discuss while standing outside on the street afterwards, with friends and with strangers. So what if you’re rehashing just how outrageously bad it was and whether there were any good parts, and whether anything at all could be salvaged from the whole depraved thing? It was stimulating and it was fun.

Why do we go to the movies anymore, when we can watch anything at home? We go for the shared experience of the theater. At least that's why I go. And SATC2 was totally worth the $12 for what I'm sure will be my most hilarious theatrical experience of the summer.

Just please go with someone so you can talk through the whole thing.