No wonder people are strewing death rumors about like Mardi Gras beads, ratcheting the electrified air of tension into a fever pitch of frenzy.
If I had known Big was gonna die, I would have commissioned a dirge for the premiere.
Put the rumors to rest, dear gossip mongers. A flurry of nitter natter signifying nothing can only buttress the headlines so long. Nobody dies in the most hotly anticipated movie of the summer, although someone did pitch the idea to director Michael Patrick King.
'I did want an emotional roller-coaster,' King said. 'But my ultimate target was to make our 'girlfriends' -- in other words, our audience -- happy. And I don't think Mr. Big dying would make them happy.'You got that right, pal. If Carrie and Big don't march off happily ever after, somebody's "gonna haf a lahda 'splaining" to do.
Replacing the original satisfyingly delicious illusion of the series ending with a cinematic 180 would be the most boneheaded move in film history. But it wouldn't be the first time some Hollywood doodad messed around with perfection.
Just please let Charlotte have her baby. That woman needs another object for her affections. Umpteen kisses with Elizabeth Taylor are beginning to spoil her Madonna image, not to mention cause an overwhelming "yech" feeling in the pit of my stomach.
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