Let me share a word or two about Tuesday’s “Sex and the City” premiere in New York City. In a lifetime of attending gala events, this one ranks in the top ten for genuine hysteria and a mise en scene that was downright surreal.

I’ve never seen Radio City Music Hall so crowded. It was like a cross between a rock concert and all-you-can-eat night at The Olive Garden. And every single woman was dressed à la "Sex and the City" — forget the simple black cocktail dress; color, beading, cleavage and thigh-age was rampant. There were hundreds and hundreds of Carries, Samanthas, Charlottes and Mirandas teetering on spindly, gym-toned legs in spindly sky-high heels. The mobs outside Radio City kept screaming when claques of these women appeared, thinking they were the real deals.

Straight men dressed down, leaving it to their ladies to shine. The gays all looked like they’d just come from working out. Everybody seemed really glad to be there. The vibe was partytime! This was New Line’s final release, before they close shop, and they went out with a bang that would make Samantha Jones proud.

When the director took the stage to introduce his four stars, I thought my eardrums would burst, so clamorous was the ovation. And throughout the film, there was applause, talk-back, loud sighs, real tears. Whatever one thought of the product, the premiere had heat and a great deal of joy. I didn’t think about Hillary, Obama or McCain once. It was a real show-biz night. And boy, do we need it now!

There was an almost equally riotous afterparty at MoMA. I stayed for one quick cosmo. By then it was nearly eleven o’clock. I usually complain about how long things go on and premieres starting late, but in this case, I give it a pass.

This "Sex" took a long time getting here. Some despaired of it ever being consummated. So, if the night was a little like the famous warning about Viagra — "call your doctor if an erection lasts longer than four hours!" — it was only appropriate.

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"An overstuffed piñata of a movie, a groaning buffet. A banana split on top of a hot fudge sundae!"

"I didn’t know what to put on, so I put on everything" … "Too much of a good thing is never enough" … "Nothing succeeds like excess."

These quotes, from Mae West and Oscar Wilde, seem wildly appropriate in regard to the movie version of "Sex and the City."

This is an overstuffed piñata of a movie, a groaning buffet, a banana split on top of a hot fudge sundae. It’s very long for a comedy. It’s even long for War and Peace. Is it bad? Is it good? Both. Click here to read my entire review on FOXNews.com

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