What could a movie about four dazzling urbanite New Yorkers have to do with “Waxwork II,” a sequel so bad I wish I was smart enough to invent my own hot tub time machine so I could go back in time and disinvent it? The most important thing is that “SATC 2” was constructed around the Waxwork II Rule. At every turn in “Sex and the City 2,” if you listen very carefully, you’ll hear whispers of “this movie has the kitchen sink and everything in the kitchen and the plumbing, too.” Except the plumbing, in this scenario, is solid gold. And adorned with black diamonds. And has some cleavage painted somewhere on it.

Given that I already wrote a review extolling my frustrations, I’ll keep this rant short. There are so many things wrong with “Sex and the City 2” that it’s hard for me to pick a good spot to dump my disappointment. Let’s start with the major flaw: This movie, much like “Waxwork II,” isn’t much of a movie. The plot is weak at best. Gone are the problems of the original film, where we cared about the characters and they wore clothes that didn’t make them look as if they’ve just escaped from Cirque de Soleil. (Somebody in this crew has to own plain ole’ blue jeans, dammit.) And because there is no plot, Michael Patrick King accessorizes like a madman. No compelling storyline? Well, let’s add some earrings longer than the seven-inch heel of Carrie’s hot-pink platform. No human drama? A fashion show in the Abu Dhabi desert will fix that right up.

The accessorizing gets worse when the girls wander the marketplace because they wear half-shirts that bear near-obscene amounts of cleavage (give those funbags some shade!). In a Muslim country. Don’t get me started on Samantha giving some dude a handjob in a restaurant where people are trying to eat. Now, I’m all about self-expression and I’m no prude, but letting it all hang out isn’t funny, it’s disrespectful to the culture and Muslim values. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda are surrounded by women wearing burkas, women without their privilege and their many rights, and they don themselves up like princesses. Spare me.

What else has me so fightin’ mad? The dialogue. Oh dear God is this dialogue bad. It might even be worse than anything you’ll find in “Waxwork II.” In “Sex and the City 2,” everyone uptalks like the dickens, chirping and smirking at what they think is their own cleverness. (Sarah Jessica Parker, whose Carrie wasn’t my favorite, is the prime offender. It’s too bad we can’t jail people for making bad puns.) But these jokes aren’t clever. They are hammy and totally fake. There’s not a drop of real feeling behind them … which is the problem of this sequel. King doesn’t give a flying fig about his characters; he just cares that they’re wearing pretty frocks. But pretty frocks do not a good movie make.

And blue jeans, people. Never trust anyone who doesn’t own one pair of plain ole’ blue jeans.

To movies, good and bad.