And Just Like That, a Review

 I was twenty-four when Sex and the City premiered during the summer of 1998. Three years before that, I had my own Sex and the City moment in NYC, tons of City none of the Sex. I remember how excited I was about the show, as I was a die-hard fan of Kim Catrall since her Mannequin days, and of course, Sarah Jessica Parker. I didn’t know Cynthia Nixon and Kirstin Davis well, but I know I’d seen Davis somewhere before the first episode.

During the show’s tenure, I watched religiously, during that first year as a single gal and the following years as a married woman, whose husband also loved the show.

When things started to go awry between cast members and ugly stories began to appear in the news, I mourned the loss of that sisterhood that worked so well on screen. So when we finally got wind that a new series was going to be filmed, I was both ecstatic and reluctant.

Sex and the City without Kim Catrall was just not going to work for me. Even though I wasn’t a Samantha, she was my favorite. And every time I did a Sex and The City Character Quiz, I was really annoyed that I was never identified as a Samantha.  But enough about me.

In the end, the reboot won, and I couldn’t wait to watch though I was still apprehensive. Many pluses were sprinkled across social media, better representation of New York’s population, and a chance to see the gals and their families. But the biggest cons, for me, were the infinite amount of rumors surrounding both Samantha’s fate and Big’s.

I’ve never been a soapy kind of person. I don’t really enjoy watching Romance stories unless the characters do a lot of growing up. Instant gratification isn’t really my thing, and neither is insta-love. However, when it comes to Sex and the City, I always had a soft spot for Mr. Big, even though I thought he was an ass. In fact, I don’t think any of Carrie’s boyfriends were palatable. Not even Aiden, whom I love dearly. They all hurt her in one way or another.  So I felt cheated as I watched the second episode and saw what the writers had in store for John with my own eyes. All the tears, unnecessary pain caused to Carrie and John throughout the years culminated in a happily ever after. And as we saw in the first episode and second, it was indeed a happily ever after of a couple who knew each other well and loved each other. A couple who could grow old together, safe in the knowledge that the other had their back.

I don’t understand the reasons behind John’s demise, but I surmise that it has to do with Aiden’s showing up in the show later on. The fact that the writers have included Aiden in the lineup has left me feeling quite bitter.

Yes, sometimes, we lose our perfect partner, our partner in crime in real life. But in fiction, when this happens, especially after years of yearning for this ending, losing him forever is even worse than never having allowed Carrie and Big to get married. And I do think that doing so leaves me questioning their motivations and asking myself, was it all worth it? What was the point of creating this larger-than-life romance between Carrie and Mr. Big if he was going to be taken away in the worst and most cruel way possible?

Some of you who read Chronicles of the Interred might be thinking this is Karma for all I put you through with the books. And I’ll say, well, touche.

Big’s death has eclipsed the rest of the things that I hated in the show’s first two episodes. However, I can’t ignore them either.  It really felt like Wokeism puked all over the show. Yes, I appreciate that more minorities are included and represent most people in the show. It’s essential to do so, especially when the setting is a cosmopolitan place like NYC. That said, sometimes things felt way too in your face and preachy. Others, the scenes were just uncomfortable.

Some people say that we grow through feeling uncomfortable. Still, I have to admit that if I feel uncomfortable, it’s usually because I don’t like the writing or acting. Most of the time, I can see the message and receive it but hate the delivery. And for me, “And Just Like That” just failed big time in the delivery. It wasn’t just that they did Samantha dirty.  The worst was to come in the shape of Carrie being put in the spot in a situation where I could have seen Catrall’s saucy minx taking ownership of the podcast. The show just felt as if it was trying really hard to atone for all the past sins. Leaving minorities out of the show’s first tenure was terrible. But the decision to do a complete 180 and even call one character “ Black Charlotte” using another queer character to do it left a nasty taste in my mouth.

I’m glad HBO has the original series for me to binge-watch when I miss the girls, but I’ll be ignoring this new reboot from now on. They’ve already broken my heart twice. Don’t think I can stomach it a third time.