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Even Roger Ebert, that paragon of fair-minded, populist film criticism, admitted from the outset of his recent Sex and the City review that he is "not the person to review this movie" — that his knowledge of the television show lent a certain preexisting distaste for the characters and "their bubble-brained conversations." But! Being the professional that he is, Ebert found intellectual redemption where he could:

Sex and the City was famous for its frankness, and we expect similar frankness in the movie. We get it, but each "frank" moment comes wrapped in its own package and seems to stand alone from the story. That includes (1) a side shot of a penis, (2) sex in positions other than the missionary, and (3) Samantha's dog, which is a compulsive masturbator. I would be reminded of the immortal canine punch line ("because he can"), but Samantha's dog is a female. "She's been fixed," says the pet lady, "but she has not lost the urge."

Ebert gets even friskier after the jump.

Samantha can identify with that. The dog gets friendly with every pillow, stuffed animal and ottoman and towel, and here's the funny thing, it ravishes them male-doggy-style. I went to AskJeeves.com and typed in "How do female dogs masturbate?" and did not get a satisfactory answer, although it would seem to be: "Just like all dogs do, but not how male dogs also do."

We're not so sure, Rog; we asked Jeeves the same thing and came up with a perfectly suitable reply. And really, if this is the most fruitful yield of our own Sex and the City experience, we'll feel like we got more than our money's worth.