Let’s start with “the small stuff”: the heinous product-placement. I’m not talking about the Manolos, the Louis Vuitton, or the Dior (that’s not “product-placement,” that’s love of haute couture) . . . I am talking about the ubiquitous Vitamin Waters, the close-up of Carrie’s new Sprint phone, the shopping-bags from Bluefly (and if you’ve never shopped Bluefly, you should know it’s a “designer outlet” . . . as in last year’s Prada-rejects . . . decidedly not “Carrie”). It is insulting to be bombarded with these pedestrian (if not “bargain-basement”) items that have little relevance to the work. Take note, Michael Patrick King: your audience picks-up on these things. Try a more subtle approach in the future.

Now, steady yourself for the real criticism: the writing. Once clever and witty, the film adopts an entirely low-brow tone. Gone are the double-entendres and witty retorts . . . instead King has given us only the basest of conversation. (Without any nuance in the script, Samantha becomes especially abhorrent and Charlotte, a bit dim-witted). In the most unforgivable moment, the writing sinks to an extended “bodily-function” joke (no spoilers). It is bizarre and debasing. (When Miranda had her own mishap while changing Brady’s diaper, it was funny and real . . . when it happens between adult women, well, it seems like something a teenage boy would write). Yuck. (And, I’m not entirely convinced that one’s more cosmopolitan friends would find it amusing).

And while I’m not opposed to “low-brow” (hey, I dig Will Farrell films), I AM opposed to hack. Here’s what I learned from King’s “illuminating” writing: 1. ) children repeat words they hear adults say, 2. ) children are messy eaters, 3. ) Jennifer Hudson is well endowed 4. ) and “illegal Cuban” cigars are the best. Thank you for repeatedly stating the obvious in the most stilted, awkward manner possible. And all the ado with the “love” key-chain . . . gag. Oh, and King, the auction-scene . . . it’s been done a THOUSAND times! (See: The Cosby Show: “The Auction”). That PAINFULLY PREDICTABLE moment ranks as the second-most unforgivable moment of the work. Bottom-line, I was struck breathless by the surface-writing (to the point of absolute frustration).

Writing aside, King’s struggle to transition from television to film was evident. The direction and framing were fairly sloppy (occasionally, I was unsure where King wanted my eye to focus). And the “Honeymoon segment” . . . I was instantly catapulted back to “bad” on-location sitcoms . . . the shots in Mexico reminded me of “The Brady Bunch: Hawaii Bound”: bad color, very bad sound, horrendous approach all-together.

Had this film been thoughtful and fun, the TWO HOURS AND TWENTY-EIGHT minutes would have been a joy. Instead, every second that elapsed destroyed the memory of a genuinely great television series. (And, it must be said that this was not a problem with the actors — who gave their best. This was a problem with script/direction/production). At this epic run-time, why didn’t the cast and crew just invest in a reunion season??!! (They could have slowed-down the production a little and genuinely focused on an honest, compelling story).

This film currently has a giant “SPLAT!” at Rottentomatoes . . . these are professionals who gave it a 54% approval-rating as of this hour. Many former-fans will not allow themselves to view King’s work as anything but pleasant nostalgia . . . many will find themselves laughing at the half-hearted jokes and empty-minded comments. But critical viewers (as in, the “smart-viewers” that the show once attracted) may walk away angry. REALLY ANGRY.
Rating: 1 / 5