So claims Variety’s Diane Garrett, as she writes the umpteenth story asking whether men will go see Sex and the City. Garrett points out that though female audiences are extremely excited about the movie, New Line has concerns about whether the movie can cross over; according to Garrett, many men “suggest they’d rather be shot than sit through the movie.”
But is this actually true? We don’t think so. We’re a man, and we would definitely choose seeing Sex and the City over being shot. Sex and the City promises to be a somewhat tacky, thoroughly ridiculous movie that we would like some parts of and hate other parts of. Getting shot is scary and can kill you!
If we had to quantify the amount of discomfort we would go through rather than see Sex and the City, we’d go fairly low; we’d maybe be willing to be punched once in the kidneys, or to suffer a mild stomach flu. We polled our colleagues, asking them the same question, and the responses were illuminating. After we sorted through the hyperbole (“I would rather be waterboarded with 1,000 Cosmopolitans”) and the annoyed responses from female colleagues who (a) rightly objected to the vague male-panic overtones of the premise or (b) demanded to know why they couldn’t express how much they don’t want to see Sex and the City, we discovered that many men seem not at all unwilling to see Sex and the City. (Notably, one man — film critic David Edelstein — is already on the record as liking the movie just fine, thank you very much.) And plenty of other men wouldn’t exactly put their life on the line to avoid it.
The responses, in escalating order of discomfort:
A light flick on the nose.
If I had to choose between a mild but persistent itching sensation that lasts 25 minutes, or watching that movie, I’d pick the itching.
I suppose I’d prefer waiting on line for two hours to get into Magnolia to seeing the movie. At least at the end I’d have a cupcake.
I would rather take medication with annoying side effects than watch Sex and the City.
I would rather eat someone else’s booger.
I would rather read and then endlessly discuss Emily Gould’s piece in the Times Magazine.
I would rather get a paper cut between each of the fingers of my right hand.
I’d rather get nausea and throw up in my mouth from watching The Notebook than see Sex and the City.
I would rather fall through ice (assuming I was rescued before drowning).
I would be shot with a BB gun, as long as it wasn’t in the eye.
I would rather have Kim Cattrall give me a Brazilian wax.
I would rather be punched in the stomach by the guy that killed Houdini.
I would be willing to take one solid blow to the gut from a professional boxer, seriously.
I’d be willing to be Tasered, but only if I’m holding a Cosmo that symbolically flies out of my hand and shatters against a wall.
I would rather be mauled by one of Michael Vick’s pit bulls.
Next week: What would women rather do than watch The Incredible Hulk? (Our answer: Watch Sex and the City!)
’Sex’ sells, but will men see ‘City?’ [Variety]
Addendum: New York film critic David Edelstein writes in to note: “I am comfortable enough with my masculinity to enjoy seeing how the other half lives, loves, and wears clothes, even for two and a half hours.”
