One danger of the continuation of a franchise that has meant so much to you – has actually played a role in your own life journey and struggle – is that if it goes off the rails, how does that colour what came before? Can an OG work of art be ruined by its sequel?
This inevitably leads to another question: Has it actually gone off the rails? Or have you, the fan, grown up? Or perhaps society has progressed and this franchise has not kept up, sticking stubbornly to outdated plot points and ideas.
And Just Like That… is the Sex and the City sequel that focuses on three of the four core characters from the first series: Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon) and Charlotte York, now York Goldenblatt (Kristin Davis). The women are now in their 50s, and they’ve made some new friends. Season 2 premieres Thursday, still minus Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) because of a fallout that has attracted a great deal of attention.
That said, Samantha is due to make an appearance this season – filmed, reportedly, separately from the others. Carrie’s former fiancé, Aidan (John Corbett), also returns. And watch for appearances by Tony Danza and Gloria Steinem, both playing themselves. (Not together, I should specify.)
Season 2 picks up three weeks after Carrie Bradshaw kissed her podcast producer in the elevator. We are back in Manhattan with Carrie and her crew – minus Miranda, who left New York and her husband, Steve (David Eigenberg), to be in L.A. with her new partner, Che Diaz (Sara Ramirez).
In the opening moments of the episode, all of our women, save one, are having great sex. For some viewers, immediately, Samantha’s absence will be keenly felt.
Real estate broker Seema Patel (Sarita Choudhury) remains Samantha’s substitute: Carrie’s new very sex-positive/relationship-averse bestie, with lots of money and opinions to match. But there is no substitute for Samantha, and that hole is hard to fill.
But by far the worst thing about the spinoff is Miranda’s progression – or, rather, regression. Although even that is not the right word, because the character hasn’t really regressed; she has been altered unrecognizably. What happened to smart, confident, take-no-prisoners Miranda? She is now a lovelorn housewife, living in Che’s Hollywood shadow. She is insecure in her relationship, desperate for something to fill her days, not sophisticated enough to handle new technology. Fans of the original show can only balk at this version of Miranda – even as she declares that the new Miranda is the best version of herself.
Sarah Jessica Parker, left, as Carrie Bradshaw and John Corbett, as Aidan in And Just Like That Season 2.Craig Blankenhorn/Supplied
Carrie, on the other hand, remains true to character, so well written and still beautifully portrayed by Parker.
What is most interesting about Carrie’s development is her grief. In the season’s third episode, viewers see her face it in a profound way. Somehow, a year after Big’s death, she is already publishing a book about it. Even if she had started writing it the day after he collapsed in the shower, that’s pretty fast in the world of publishing. But, okay. There are many things about this franchise that could be fact-checked into oblivion. We fans have learned to roll with it.
This episode is where Season 2 seems to find its footing. When an old friend – Bitsy Von Muffling (Julie Halston), of all people – tells Carrie that the second year of grief is worse than the first. Bitsy advises her to do whatever it takes to feel better, and shares a quote she heard at a class: “The hole never fills, but new life will grow around it.” It is a moving scene.
But then: Cut to Carrie struggling with six giant shopping bags, kicking her apartment door open and then sitting on the floor surrounded by boxes and so much footwear that she has shoes from different pairs on her left and right feet. A scene like this might have amused in the 1990s. Now it just feels gross. You’ve inherited all that money and this is what you’re doing with it?
The show is still weighed down by too many such GOL (Groan Out Loud) scenarios. Like when one character has to rush out of a dress fitting to pick up her child; “my nanny has the stomach flu!” Or when a feminist academic celebrated in the anti-racism space has nothing to fill her time with while her musician husband is on tour, beyond streaming Bridgerton knockoffs. Or when Seema’s purse is stolen. It’s not the contents that concern her, but the bag itself – a coveted Birkin. When she hunts for it online, we plebian viewers learn how much these things cost. These are five-figure purses. This glorification of, and obsession with, high-priced fashion just does not seem right, right now.
While Charlotte begins the season as sheltered as ever (one cringey storyline has her outraged over the loss of a Chanel suit she bought for her daughter) and Miranda continues to diminish into a bumbling shadow of her former self, Carrie remains wise and funny – the wry observer of life that we have loved for all these years. And the reason I will keep watching, in spite of it all.
In a new profile in The New Yorker, Parker refers to herself as a “bitter ender.” She sticks around, even if that may be ill-advised. Fans of Carrie Bradshaw will relate.