Women of a certain age

Only Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte are no longer in their twittering 20s, or in their thriving 30s. The years of living dangerously, whizzing in and out of countless crises and deep dilemmas, boy friends and bedrooms, are behind them. The foursome, who’ve defined life in the fastest lanes of Manhattan for adoring fans around the world, are now in their 40s.

So here was a houseful of ladies, of all ages, spilling over in a theatre complex in swish South Delhi. Gal gangs, mostly, all dressed up to keep up, doubtless, with the tone of the movie. There was uproarious laughter at all the decidedly carnal jokes: nothing bashful about this audience. The film is much mellower than the series where our SATC fashionistas switch guys as fast as their labels, but there’s still food for much merriment. You see a woman carry a bird in her hair (Carrie aka Sarah Jessica Parker in her ridiculous wedding hat): what’s not to laugh?

But hey, hang on a moment. Where’s all the riotous sex, that used to be such a big feature of the TV series? Carrie and her reluctant groom, Mr Big, sit and talk (yes, talk) in bed. There’s some dull missionary type marital pronging on display. The only slightly promising segment turns out to be a bummer: Samantha in the altogether, adorned only by sushi, waiting for her young stud to show. He doesn’t, and they don’t.

What’s happened is this: these are women who are no longer looking for just sex. The whole dating thing is just not their scene anymore. Two of them are married, even if one of them goes into no-forgiveness mode when her husband has a fling, and, silly man, confesses to it. Another has a second baby. Carrie, does, in the end, get a wedding ring. She says her vows, not in the extravagant Vivienne Westwood gown, but in a simple, classic dress, all her laugh lines intact. This bride doesn’t botox.

Yes, it’s true. Women in the movies do grow old. Not that you’d know it, going by Bollywood. Women in Hindi movies are in their very-early-20s, or in their 60s: the first category is a perennial girl, the second doomed to be a maa, or a dadi-maa, depending upon how old the hero needs to be.

Our leading ladies have barely stepped out of the first-name-only status, where their only pre-occupation is to bring up the hero’s rear. They’ve only now begun getting surnames and occupations, but unlike a rare Bipasha who is seen in an office in Corporate (before she moves off to other settings once she establishes her pin-striped presence), or a Rani who’s shown in her boutique in Hum Tum (before she gets back to rebuffing Saif’s advances), most of our heroines only preen, pout, and pirouette.

Where are our women over 40? Someone like Shabana Azmi, who’d do a great job as a nut-cracking corporate CEO, is reduced to being a smarmy Long Island socialite (her last significant role, in Loins of Punjab). The hugely talented Madhuri Dixit is dragged from her US exile with much fanfare, made to play a mom with a daughter in Aaja Nach Le, minus a single red-blooded situation. And Tabu, the only other actress who will happily admit to being ‘a certain age’, has simply vanished from Mumbai.

Kamasutra, the ‘SATC’ way? Caviar facials, okay, but raw fish fillets on body, ugh, no, we are Indians. Handling a blackberry and answering work-related mail? What are you, a nerd? So why are we making a beeline for Carrie & Co? Because, despite their impossibly high Manolos and swirly Cosmos, they feel real. We connect with them as they wave the 40s flag proudly, and raise a toast to being fabulous at 50. We want what they want: the sex and the love, and the all rest of it. The whole nine yards. No wonder we’re lovin’ it.

The writer is the ‘Indian Express’ film critic shubhra.gupta@gmail.com