My theme of “spring-to-summer” cooking continues. I developed this lovely risotto with fava beans and sweet corn yesterday before heading off to see Sex and the City with a bunch of women from my crafting group. I’m not sure how it could have been more clichéd. Oh, yes I am: we could have dressed up or snuck in a thermos of cosmos. We were all happy to see it, all happy to meet beforehand for a strawberry-lemon vodka concoction whipped up by our fearless leader, all happy to walk to the theater through the wind-blown sun that defines San Francisco this time of year, all happy to get a break from what seems like a work-intensive month for each and every one of us. One of us was thrilled with the movie because, by her own account, she had decided to be. Me? I would have used some of that product-placement money and hired an editor.
Full disclosure: Like so many movies of this ilk, this one is designed to make you cry. And I am not dead inside. Quite the opposite, in fact. I like nothing more than expressing emotion through fictional characters and will cry at the drop of a hat when it comes to books, movies, and television. I once cried watched All My Children. I literally sobbed at Juno. I cannot even begin to count the number of times I’ve teared up listening to This American Life. I cry easily in real life too. My husband and father have placed bets (actual wagers than involve an exchange of cash, I tell you!) on whether I can make it through wedding toasts dry-eyed.
All that to say: I was not completely dry-eyed through SATC. I don’t think I’m giving anything away: when Samantha spoon-feeds Carrie some yogurt, well, the tears were flowing. Did I feel manipulated? Did I steel myself against further cheap moves by the script? Yes and yes. But the tears were there.