Sex & the City on Life’s Indisposable Relationships
In an age where it feels as though we prefer disposability, from diapers to mops, is anything indisposable anymore?
Simple, the movie affirmed the reality that all relationships have bumps. I was now freed of the nagging doubts in my mind that somehow it was entirely my fault, consciously or subconsciously, that my relationships have ended. The movie emphasized the fact that each partner contributes to the growth, as well as the destruction of a relationship. Moreover, when desired enough, both partners can also contribute to the salvaging of a broken bond. In a society where everything is disposable from take-out boxes to quickie-divorces, I found it quite refreshing to find a major motion picture advocating for forgiveness and reconstruction.
Another uplifting story arc, which ran consistently throughout the series and was highlighted even more in the movie, is that of friendship. If the film was chopped up to form a montage, it would be a series of clips depicting the girls laughing together, crying together, defending one another, talking together, fighting together, and forgiving together. To have a strong network of supportive friends is a fabulous safety net against those times when the rug will inevitably be pulled under you, the movie seems to say. Who could possibly argue against such reasonable logic?
One character who seemed to escape unscathed from the plague of relationship problems inflicted upon the other three characters was Charlotte. She herself acknowledged on screen that nothing bad had happened to her… yet. Then in the next moment, she voiced a concern which I am sure most of us have wrestled with: “I’m so happy that I’m afraid something really bad is going to happen soon.” I too have battled this fear – fear of the unknown that is. I, like Charlotte, have also dreaded the possibility of doom brought by the thought of tomorrow, even as I reveled in the present moment of pure bliss. And I also hope that like Charlotte, I too will conquer this irrational fear.
When the movie was over, I exited the theater with a feeling of relish. Not just for the gratifying sight of beautiful clothes, shoes, and bags (with the exception of the multi-colored Louis Vutton which had colors reminiscent of a mustard, ketchup, hot dog surrounded by a whole wheat bun), but for the fact that the movie reminded me of the joys of fabulously in-disposable relationships in a time of disposable everything else. I drove home, joyfully relieved and almost grateful for a reminder that to err is human, most things in life are fixable, and more often than not, the most fearful thing is fear itself.
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