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Carrie Bradshaw consistently begins anew. Following the conclusion of the original “Sex and the City” series where Sarah Jessica Parker’s beloved character, a columnist, found joy in her soulmate Mr. Big’s (Chris Noth) proclaimed love, the 2008 film sequel saw him leaving her at the altar during what was supposed to be their honeymoon. The expanded “SATC” movie ended with Carrie and Big reconciling; however, their City Hall wedding held firm while a second film hinted at marital troubles before sending the friends on an excursion to Abu Dhabi for some playful cultural misrepresentation. This left the revival series, “And Just Like That“, with no other option but to disrupt Carrie’s life once more: Farewell Big, claimed by his Peloton.
The second season finale of the show presented another unexpected conclusion. Carrie organized a “Last Supper,” bringing together the diverse characters from And Just Like That… for a farewell dinner party at her renowned single-woman apartment, encouraging everyone to let go of something that was hindering them. For Carrie, this meant releasing “expectations.” This included the expectation that her rekindled relationship with Aidan (John Corbett) would follow a typical course. He chose to postpone their romance for five years, focusing on raising his difficult child, Wyatt (Logan Souza), in Virginia. She accepted this, paving the way for the surprising transformation seen in Season 3, set to premiere May 29 on Max. By discarding much of the accumulated baggage it had been carrying since the 20th century, And Just Like That… now seems less like a Sex and the City aftermath and more like its own absurd yet generally enjoyable creation.
Central to the revival is a long-overdue refreshment of the cast. In an admirable yet somewhat awkward attempt to make “And Just Like That” more diverse and less stereotypically white compared to its predecessor, the first season intentionally paired each of its three returning leads with a new female character of color. Carrie is now acquainted with Sarita Choudhury’s stylish, no-nonsense real estate queen, Seema. Charlotte York-Goldenblatt (Kristin Davis) found a mom friend in documentarian Lisa Todd Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker). Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon), after re-focusing on human rights law, developed a rapport with her professor, Dr. Nya Wallace (Karen Pittman). And when Miranda came out of the closet and ended her marriage to Steve (David Eigenberg), Che Diaz, a nonbinary comedian and rising meme sensation, was there to welcome her. The friends of the Sex and the City women, Stanford Blatch (Willie Garson) and Anthony Marentino (Mario Cantone), also received more screen time. However, the show continues to grapple with the ghosts of Big (who was removed from flashbacks following allegations against Chris Noth, which he denies) and Samantha Jones, the flamboyantly promiscuous fourth lead, who was written off to London when Kim Cattrall declined to reprise her role.
Managing all those characters became overwhelming, especially since Michael Patrick King, creator of AJLT and alum of SATC, invested a lot of time delving into Carrie’s lingering sorrow and complicated love life. Regardless of whether the cast departures were planned or not, they have ultimately proven beneficial, with the unfortunate exception of Garson’s passing in 2021. Che’s character, who had little reason to stick around after her breakup with Miranda in Season 2, was a distraction from the start. Similarly, when Ramirez announced her exit last year amid reports of backstage drama, it was a welcome development. Pittman’s character, Nya, who provided the most authentic middle-class representation on AJLT, seemed to fit better as part of the ensemble. However, with Miranda no longer in school and Pittman excelling in the excellent series Forever, her absence from Season 3 makes sense.
It appears that Carrie’s ghostly presence lingers at her old apartment, while she prepares her luxurious Gramercy home for Aidan’s future move-in and tries not to miss Aidan excessively (though I must admit, this storyline still leaves me unconvinced). Reminiscent of Cattrall’s brief, sensationalized cameo in the Season 2 finale, where she conversed with Parker over the phone, And Just Like That… seems to have moved on from Samantha as well. Her involvement in the six Season 3 episodes I’ve reviewed is minimal, confined mostly to text messages.
Following the removal of individuals from Carrie’s past both from the cast list and the walk-in closet, King presents a revitalized, well-balanced, and concentrated show that has significantly progressed beyond the SATC nostalgia act of Season 1. With only five women to track, Seema’s and Lisa’s narratives are given equal importance as Charlotte’s and Miranda’s. LTW receives approval from PBS for her long-term passion project; however, her husband’s comptroller campaign and an inconvenient workplace crush might jeopardize her plans. Although her season starts with a somewhat sudden plot twist, Seema encounters a tantalizing professional predicament of her own when her business partner unexpectedly retires and transfers his shares to Ryan Serhant (indeed, the Million Dollar Listing/Owning Manhattan man; indeed, he appears as himself; and indeed, this seems like self-promotion). Choudhury’s acting might be And Just Like That…’s main reason for being, and her expanded presence in this season enhances its quality with every haughty line delivery.
This show, while popular, isn’t a groundbreaking or significant one like Sex and the City, despite its flaws. In fact, it wouldn’t grasp the cultural mood if it knocked on Carrie’s Victorian townhouse door. It’s more of a light-hearted, oblivious portrayal of wealthy women’s lives, and I suspect the teenage characters are written by individuals who haven’t interacted with actual teens in years. The character of Carrie remains incredibly annoying; an episode featuring her fuming over her downstairs neighbor’s (distinguished British author) complaint about her stomping on his ceiling in heels left me furious. I also question the significance—or the spark—between Carrie and Aidan that justifies the amount of attention they receive.
Despite continuously enhancing its humor and embracing the oddities of late middle age, AJLT is relishing in its own absurdity even more now. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by Miranda’s fascination with a dating show called Bi Bingo or her romantic entanglement with Rosie O’Donnell, whose character promises shocking backstory? Or Charlotte’s dog-park spats reminiscent of The Bad Seed’s mother and her pursuit of a college admissions guru named Lois “The Finger” Fingerhead, portrayed by the hilarious Kristen Schaal? Absolutely sign me up for that! I can’t wait to see Jenifer Lewis and Cheri Oteri make their scene-stealing appearances. And in what seems to be the season’s most outlandish twist, prepare yourself: Carrie has embarked on writing her first novel, a historical romance that appears to be ChatGPT’s reimagining of her diary set in the 19th century – think sepia-toned novelty photos. (“The woman had survived the treacherous journey mostly intact.”) It’s horrendous… yet I can’t help but eagerly anticipate it, much like many of AJLT’s most preposterous plotlines.
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2025-05-29 01:06