Sex and the City 2: Somehow, the fun has been drained from bashing Sex and the City 2. In fact, thinking about bashing it creates a feeling of conflict more potent than any of the drama manufactured for the first Sex and the City movie. Males, even nerds and critics who should know better, tend to rail against this series, and other dopey lady-centric fantasies, with a sense of disgust that would never be unleashed upon, say, Prince of Persia, and that sucks: the implication that dudes can be excused some empty-headed escapism, but the female version is particularly vile and somehow even emptier.
On the other hand, most bad things you can say about the first Sex and the City movie—that it was overlong, simultaneously frivolous and self-serious, materialistic even when rejecting materialism, condescending, and just not particularly entertaining or well-made—are true, and the attitudes Sex and the City has come to represent—blah blah blah clothes, blah blah blah Manhattan, blah blah blah puns—have moved far afield from the idea of smart single women navigating sex and dating in New York.
The issue is further muddied by Sex and the City 2 looking like a full-on pander not so much to female audiences (though I expect plenty of women will show up opening weekend) and more to gay men. Obviously, that's fine in theory; how many other feature films actually bother to acknowledge this segment of the audience, rather than incidentally benefiting from its existence? But I'm sorry, that also makes this movie look like a drag show, and I am so rarely going to get excited about a drag show. Bottom line: Ladies and gay dudes who are super into Sex and the City should start liking cooler stuff.
Survival of the Dead: Romero came back to the zombie genre with the wide-release semi-flop Land of the Dead half a decade ago; since then, he's retreated back into indie mode with the not-quite-sequels Diary of the Dead and Survival of the Dead, apparently searching for different angles from which to launch zombie-oriented commentary. I still haven't even seen Day of the Dead, so I can't in good conscience get excited about this one.
Micmacs: A guy gets shot in the head; that could be any number of French movies. But the guy lives, and then teams up with a bunch of adorable junkyard hobos to get revenge on arms dealers, which means that this is probably a Jean-Pierre Jeunet film, especially because Terry Gilliam isn't French. The L's own Nick McCarthy was professionally unimpressed (nothing is investigated! Or apprehended! Or, I assume, tried, sentenced, or unpacked!). But this looks to me like one of those things where by the same token that Amelie wasn't as great as everyone said, this probably isn't as bad.