HBO’S “Sex and the City” can be interesting and entertaining and, as often as not, crude and startling. But midway through the fifth season, as the lead characters continue to stumble through countless men and meaningless relationships, the show’s vision of a modern girl-power paradise is beginning to unravel.
In the first few seasons, “Sex and the City” story lines revolved around Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte as they trolled the chi-chi haunts of Manhattan in their quest for Mr. Right. And when they were not sleeping with random, single men (or the occasional married man), they were cursing and bragging about their sexual exploits. A lot like frat boys.
Fans and promoters of the show apotheosized this lifestyle and proclaimed that their behavior was another great leap in women’s lib:
“The smart women of ‘Sex and the City’ aren’t afraid of their femininity or their appetites,” the Los Angeles Times raves.
“‘Sex and the City’ shows us single women who are anything but desperate . . . Women who make their own money don’t have to depend on a man and they don’t have to settle,” Newsweek declares. “The women of ‘Sex and the City’ sleep with whomever they want, max out their credit cards and never worry about playdates or carpools. And they know their married friends aren’t having any fun at all.”
But even in the beginning, this cheerleading rang false. In a typical story line from the first season, Mr. Big, the man Carrie sleeps with but doesn’t date, leaves New York for Paris. She offers to go with him, but Big explains he will be no more likely to marry her in Paris than he was in New York. Several episodes later, as Carrie complains about him, her friends urge her to get therapy. “We’re as f—– up as you are,” they indelicately explain. “It’s like the blind leading the blind.” In the waiting room before her second shrink session, Carrie notices a cute guy (played by Jon Bon Jovi). She sleeps with him on their first date and, while they’re still in bed, she pesters him about his reasons for going to a psychiatrist. Caving in, he casually explains, “I lose interest in a woman after sex.”
In another story line, Samantha, the most voracious member of the group, decides to seek revenge on a man who dumped her by seducing him and leaving before they consummate. Her plan backfires, however, when she falls for him (again) and sleeps with him. After which he dumps her (again). At nearly every turn there was heartache and much of the girls’ gusto seemed forced and pathetic.
Midway through its fifth season, the characters haven’t made much emotional progress. For all the talk about happiness, fulfillment, and fun, Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte are as miserable as ever.
This season’s first episode focused on Carrie’s fear that she’ll never find another great love. At a crowded Fleet Week party, Carrie chats up a young sailor. “This place is like the Bermuda Triangle for women,” she tells him.
He laughs. “You’re funny,” he tells her. “You remind me of my mom.”
Meanwhile, at the same party, Samantha is hesitant to give her boyfriend another chance after she catches him cheating, and Charlotte worries she won’t find love after her divorce. Grasping for something–anything–to make them feel better, they decide to expose themselves to sailors.
Finally Miranda, now a mother, has to miss the party and is forced to confront the tender joys of single-motherhood. “Just think of it as a big purse,” she says, describing her baby.
The next few episodes have had the same melancholy tone. A blind date stands up Carrie. Charlotte turns 36 and gets upset when she realizes she isn’t where she hoped to be. Samantha dumps a boyfriend. Miranda continues to struggle with motherhood.
While their friendships with each other have remained secure and comforting this season, their relationships with men are as sad and dyspeptic as ever. And their futures remain precarious. “I think I am one bad date away from bitter,” Carrie recently remarked. “Ever since Richard I don’t even know who I am anymore,” Samantha later confesses to Carrie.
Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan recently wrote in the Baltimore Sun, “The brilliance of the new season is that the show’s writers haven’t opted to have the girls sweep their heartache under their dust ruffles. . . . Instead they are scared, lost and uncertain.”
But this is nothing new. There has always been an element of fear and uncertainty in these women’s lives. The girls from “Sex and the City” still haven’t grown up. And their “fabulous” lifestyle looks less attractive and exciting every week.
Rachel DiCarlo is a staff assistant at The Weekly Standard.
