With one notable (and limited) exception, Jesus Christ is this a miserable week for new movies.
Sex and the City 2: There is literally no movie this summer that I am less likely to see. The entire franchise trades on tired stereotypes, the trailers are wretch-inducing ("We're not in Kansas anymore"? Seriously? In a trailer? IN 2010?!?), and I never liked the series, not even a little bit; Chuck Klosterman summed up the show better than I ever could when he wrote, "Every time I tried (to watch it), all I saw were four peculiar-looking women pretending to talk like gay guys." I remembered that line when I read Lindy West's review in The Stranger, in which she noted that it's 146 minute (!) running time was "an entirely inappropriate length for what is essentially a home video of gay men playing with giant Barbie dolls." That's one of many quotable lines in that lovely piece of disgusted writing (okay, here's another: "SATC2 takes everything that I hold dear as a woman and as a human—working hard, contributing to society, not being an entitled cunt like it's my job—and rapes it to death with a stiletto that costs more than my car"). Not that's there's any shortage of terrible reviews to draw from-- I particularly recommend Ebert's ("These people make my skin crawl") and Orndorf's ("an appallingly xenophobic drag show").
Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time: It's almost comical, how little interest I've managed to muster up in this movie. It's a based on a video game, right? Or a Disney ride? That's literally all I know about the film. Oh, and Jake Gylenhaal plays Fabio in it, or something.
Survival of the Dead: Romero's still making these, is he? All righty then.
Micmacs: Here's the one to go see this weekend--if you can find it. But it's a real treat, a delightful little fun house of a movie and rich comic valentine to old mysteries, modern action movies, and the kings of silent comedy. A welcome and wonderful return to form by Amelie director Jean-Pierre Jeunet.