‘Sex’ may have you moaning

I finally went to see “Sex and the City” yesterday. I guess it wasn’t the best setting in which to enjoy the film, since I went with my 55-year-old former film-instructor brother, Randy, and an18-year-old Washington State University freshman, Connor, who’s spending his summer working up here in his hometown.

Neither was particularly excited about witnessing the adventures of Carrie Bradwhaw and her three best buds. But we all agreed to try our best to give the film a chance.

The problems began about an hour in when my brother started moaning. I had to keep shushing him, though I tried to be discreet. Above us, after all, were groups of women who dutifully laughed at every opportunity the film gave them, and I seriously did not want to disrupt their experience.

Then Connor began sighing. Moans on one side, sighs on the other.

And I? What was I feeling? Well, what the movie did show me, perhaps for the first time, was how fiercely loyal these women were to each other. For the most part, they were unquestioning in their desire to protect each other from, one, the men in their lives and, two, from their own worst tendencies.

Of course, there does come the moment when Carrie blames Miranda for the most recent disruption in her relationship with “Big” – which is the plot point around which the whole movies revolves.

No matter that it’s Big’s cowardice and nothing Miranda does that causes the problem. No matter that Carrie never owns up to this, that she simply resumes the friendship – because, apparently, that’s what you do, you know? – instead of admitting that she was using Miranda as a convenient scapegoat.

Mostly, though, I had one overall reaction to all the shopping and lunching and living as if nothing in the world was more important then these women and their personal, extremely comfortable lives. For the first time, I felt as if I’d begun to understand the roots of terrorism.

Below: Check out what you’re getting in to with the new “Sex and the City” film.