‘And Just Like That’: How did the ‘Sex and the City’ reboot go so wrong?
When Sex and the City aired in 1998, it became one of the first television shows to truly depict female sexuality in a way that was honest and realistic. These were four women navigating the complex web of relationships, dating, casual sex, and friendship, with hard-hitting topics, from infertility to infidelity, allowing the show to endure as a relevant piece of media.
Following the sixth and final season in 2004, SATC spawned two movies, released in 2008 and 2010, but they didn’t hold a candle to the original series. The terrible Sex and the City 2 should’ve been a sign that these characters needed to be retired, but instead, HBO has since delivered three seasons of a spin-off show, And Just Like That…
While the first two seasons were widely criticised for everything from the seemingly forced diversity to the ridiculous plotlines—like Charlotte having to go out in a blizzard to get condoms for her brattish teenage daughter—season three has somehow gotten much, much worse. If Che Diaz and Big’s Peloton death weren’t bad enough, fans have now been presented with some of the series’ most boring and offensive plotlines to date, which are, quite frankly, an insult to the original show.
The charm of Sex and the City is in the characters’ likeability and relatability. Even though we might not be able to identify with their lifestyles to a T, the show cycled through many universally felt female problems. There was typically a central theme to an episode, and whether we were cringing at the characters or identifying with their issues, there were countless unforgettable episodes, from Carrie stalking Big and his mother at church to Miranda getting so desperate she tries to seduce a man wearing a hot dog costume. It happens to the best of us.
Everyone could identify with one of the four best friends in some way. Being a Charlotte makes you more traditional and idealistic, whereas if you’re a Samantha, you’ve probably got a ferocious sexual appetite and little sense of shame. Yet, And Just Like That… zaps the life out of these lovable characters, which is not helped by the absence of Samantha (due to Kim Cattrall’s refusal to reunite with the cast). Instead, Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda are insufferable versions of themselves that are much harder to root for. Carrie is pathetically waiting around for Aidan again, having moved on fast from Big’s unexpected death, while Charlotte is dealing with some annoying teenagers and attempting to get back into the art world, and Miranda is navigating her life as a newly-discovered queer woman.
Meanwhile, we’ve got Seema Patel, a real estate mogul, and filmmaker Lisa Todd Wexley, often known as LTW, rounding out the cast, although their place in the show feels wholly unnecessary. Four episodes into season three, and LTW is still panicking about needing an editor for her documentary, and to be quite honest, no one actually cares. Meanwhile, Seema is dealing with some business issues while navigating single life in her 50s. They’re both fine characters that are likeable enough, but their storylines feel shoehorned into the show with little purpose.
They hardly interact with the other women, and group meetings with the five of them are few and far between. You just can’t imagine that Seema and Miranda, or Carrie and LTW, actually speak to each other outside of these rare group interactions that occur every few episodes. Viewers miss those regular brunch rundowns from the original SATC, where we got to see the friends actually being friends.
Now, the show seems to be soaked in this empty, unattainable and cold opulence, emphasised by the clean sheen of the digital cameras that sharply contrast the cosy New York shot on film for the original. While the show evolved over those six seasons, it retained its atmosphere throughout, often soundtracked by jazz and unafraid to show a little grit. Carrie’s apartment was often a bit messy, and as she walked around the city at night with a cigarette in hand, the show perfectly mastered a balance of attainability and aspiration.
In AJLT, however, the women all live in massive empty houses (apart from Miranda, who is somehow homeless), with their outfits getting more ridiculous by the episode. Carrie exclusively deals in cringey quips, and Miranda seems constantly unsure of herself, while Charlotte is always overacting—the essence of her character lost among inane plotlines about her dog or her daughter’s polyamorous ballet dancer boyfriend.
With the current narrative following Carrie’s trip to Virginia to visit Aidan, who is staying there for five years to keep an eye on his nightmare child, Wyatt, you can’t help but wish the writers would pick literally anything else to explore. Why couldn’t we have a moving and relatable portrait of Carrie realistically navigating the grief of losing Big and eventually entering the dating world again (with no Aidan in sight)? Instead, her marriage now seems like a distant memory, with Carrie focusing her attention on a long distance relationship with the man she once cheated on with her recently deceased husband. Seemingly, there are no other single men in America.
Carrie’s humorous narration needs to come back, the girls need to band together more, and the simultaneous grit and warmth that made SATC so popular in the first place needs to return. Why can’t Anthony have a more prominent role with proper justice served for Stanford? Are those insufferable children the best Charlotte and Harry could be afforded after everything they went through to have them? And are they going to keep playing terrible pop songs over each chapter?
You only have to see what people are saying online after each episode airs to discover that most fans are hate-watching the new season, unable to look away from the car crash that is each character turning into an empty shell of what they once were. And Just Like That… is an embarrassment to the original series, and it’s easily one of the worst shows on TV right now. Yet, here we are, returning each week to see just how the show grows even more fatuous.
