I was one of those million-odd souls who ran to see Sex And The City (the movie) opening weekend and I had at least two thoughts about it. On the way in, I thought: "Wow! Isn't it amazing that a smart, sexy and very adult comedy can command this kind of opening box office!" On the way out of the theatre, however, making my way past the winding line of (mostly) women waiting four-or-five-rows-deep for their tickets, I wondered: "Isn't it amazing that so many people today will run run run straight into the warm embrace of a commercial!"
"A commercial," you ask. "Say, what?!"
You heard me. A commercial. And, actually, scratch that. Not A commercial. But SEVERAL commercials.
This film is so laden with product placement that at several key
moments I was completely taken out of the story—so heavy-handed and
labored was the effort. Readers of this blog may shake their heads and
wonder, "Where has Rolando been? This is nothing new!" But I can tell
you, no matter how inured we may have become to product placement in
our Hollywood fare, nothing has prepared us for quite this combination
of
1) Actors repeating product names as lines of dialogue
2) Music swelling to punctuate the arrival of given labels
and
3)
The camera lovingly drawing us closer and closer and closer to each
package until at last as the music crescendos to its fever pitch, the
label name virtually fills the entire movie screen.
What bothers me about this is that the slavish devotion to products is so obviously competing with the joy of storytelling. The various references to products are so numerous that no amount of artistry can possibly win this battle to make them subtle. It's at a point where the products outnumber the plot points (and in some instances -- as with the arrival of Carrie Bradshaw's perfect wedding dress -- they intersect so perfectly) that we are left wondering where to look: at the characters or at their stuff.
In the television show, this seemed to be done with a wink and a nod, as if, confined inside that evil box which is all essentially advertising of one sort or another (let's face it) we could all just agree to grin and bear it.
But here on the big screen, in a medium we associate with Hollywood mythology at its most arch, the constant naming of names feels almost sad. And kind of hopeless.
Is it really impossible to finance a multi-million dollar picture composed of characters that have already enjoyed unprecedented appeal on television without selling every last 30 sec. slot to another advertiser? I'm sure the answer is No.
So why is it then that we see what we see on the screen?
I can think of one possible answer. Good old fashioned laziness. You see, folks, it's so much easier (and less time-consuming) to simply offer up the real estate to the advertisers on a first-come-first-served basis than to actually convince a studio to bet on a sure thing. Because, if there's still one axiom of Hollywood it is this: NOTHING (no matter how popular today) can be considered a sure thing for TOMORROW.
In San Francisco, I have often observed a quaint practice among moviegoing audiences. When confronted with obvious product-placement, these lefty liberal die hards will hiss until the product has disappeared completely from the screen. Seeing Sex And The City, I couldn't help but wonder: Did any San Franciscans hear a single line of dialogue last weekend?
Not likely.
Hisssss!!!!!!!!