Despite denying being a “material girl,” I do take great pride in my DVD collection. I routinely spend the few measly bucks I have left to my name buying gads of them, and spend the few measly hours I have left to myself color-coding them (according to the spectrum, no less. Sadly). However, my collection, littered with Wes Anderson Criterion Editions, pretentious French films, and Coen Brothers gems, possesses a few inexplicable wildcards. When cornered as to why I own a copy of Coyote Ugly, I usually attempt to attribute it to a roommate with ridiculous taste. The Little Mermaid is chalked up to nostalgia, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was “given to me by a friend.” However, one movie I can’t seem to explain, for better or for worse, is the lovable and horrifically cheesy Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.
My friend with a similar affliction texted me at work with a brief request: Pants tonight? Oh yes, oh yes, Pants tonight. Tonight shall be full of The Pants.
So we sauntered off in my borrowed mini-van (really, could this get any more cliche?) and spent a heartwarmingly nauseating two hours with four girls and a pair of bedazzled pants in the second installment of the series (based on a line of books by Anne Brashares). And honestly, I use the term “nauseating” in the most complimentary way possible. I laughed, I cried, I nearly peed my own pants. I felt as ooey-gooey inside as a flaming marshmallow over a campfire pit. And what’s more? I really fricken loved it.
Amber Tamblyn shone as the dry-rot wit of the quartet, her deadpan lines, which fell flat on paper (I might just have read the book as a tween) were delivered in the snarkiest form of sincerity. Blake Lively, of obnoxious Gossip Girl fame, brought sappy audiences to their knees in her gut-eviscerating subplot focused around the suicide of her ill mother. Alexis Bledel, though sadly lacking Gilmore gusto, was simply adorable as a heartbroken art-student, and America Ferrara shed her character’s irritating undertones (a complaint of the first film) to become the most effortless and earnest girl-next-door.
Sure, you’re in for a cheesy, girly, false-confidence-building run, but a substantial cast and sturdy story (however, greatly divided among the four) make it all the more bearable, and heck, even a whole lot likable. And when it comes out on DVD, I’ll be sure to color-code it in and attempt a flimsy excuse for yet another wonderful wildcard.