And just like that… I can’t watch one more second of this lazy, awake shit.
There’s no doubt that Sarah Jessica Parker and the producers of the schlocky “Sex And The City” reboot were fully aware of the howls of disappointment from superfans, like me, who hated what they did to a beloved franchise when first season.
The knockoff lacked everything that made the original series great; sharp dialogues, compelling characters and plots touching on taboo subjects that mainstream American entertainment had never dared to tackle.
The new show was all about tags; trans, cis, white, black.
So when HBO Max broke the news of the surprise return of Kim Cattrall’s iconic Samantha, I jumped.
Samantha wasn’t in the sequel’s first season, but if Cattrall’s cheeky, offensive, and authentic persona returned, so did I. She will not tolerate this progressive nonsense.
I couldn’t wait.
Now I wish I had.
The creatives behind this series have learned nothing.
More likely, they are perfectly content to take advantage of that brand for all it’s worth and destroy it in the process. But what’s really worse is that they actually demean the marginalized groups they claim to represent.
Predictably, the first episode centers on Carrie Bradshaw in the final stages of grieving her late husband, Mr. Big, who broke down after the post-Peloton race last season.
Charlotte (Kristin Davis) does nothing but get anxious. And Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is in Los Angeles with her non-binary partner Che Diaz, a comedian who makes a sitcom.
Predictably, the first episode centers on Carrie Bradshaw in the final stages of grieving her late husband, Mr. Big, who collapsed mid-Platoon last season. (Above) Carrie with a fleeting new love
Samantha (above, left) wasn’t in the sequel’s first season, but if the spunky, offensive, and genuine Cattrall character returned, so did I. She will not tolerate this progressive nonsense. (Above, right to left) The cast of Sex And The City: Kim Cattrall, Cynthia Nixon, Kristin Davis, Sarah Jessica Parker
The other characters, who joined the cast last season, are real estate agent Seema (Sarita Choudhury), Professor Nya (Karen Pittman) and wealthy filmmaker/socialite Lisa (Nicole Ari Parker).
They each get their own marginal plot developments. Nya wants to cheat on her ex-husband. Lisa tries to raise money for her documentary. Seema dates a con artist and fights with her hairdresser.
Episode 1 opens with a montage of all the characters, except one (the solitary Nya), in the grip of passion.
The soundtrack to their furious antics: a remix in collaboration with Britney Spears/Elton John of “Hold Me Closer”.
Carrie is under the covers with her podcast producer in the bedroom. Charlotte snuggled up to her husband Harry. Seema and Lisa are shown in more compromising positions.
But Miranda and Che are stark naked, breasts out, writhing in a hot tub, in the middle of the day in Los Angeles.
That’s all in the first few minutes. And if you think that’s a lot, wait.
As usual, the story revolves around the main characters. The only new addition to get much attention is Che. And they (Che uses plural pronouns) is reduced to nothing more than a stereotype.
In season one, Che was portrayed as a hyper-aggressive, non-binary queer person.
Here in season two, in an obvious nod to how ridiculous it looked, Che is irritated by the wardrobe department of their new TV show, as they try to dress them up. of a tacky and flashy blazer.
“Hello America, I’m not binary!” Che quips, recognizing the caricature.
But then they are back.
Carrie is under the covers with her podcast producer in the bedroom.
Miranda and Che are stark naked, breasts out, writhing in a hot tub, in broad daylight in Los Angeles.
Che is irritated by the wardrobe department of his new TV show, as they try to dress them (Che uses plural pronouns) in a nerdy, flashy blazer.
Of course, Che and Miranda can’t have normal sex. It must be super perverted.
Che lies in bed with his hands over his head, holding a wrought iron headboard, while Miranda awkwardly tries on a black leather harness for a strap-on and fumbles with a variety of fake penises.
It would be nice if the producers let actress Sara Ramirez explore the character of Che and explain why Miranda moved across the country, leaving behind her husband, Steve, and son, Brady.
But no, it’s all leather and studs for you two.
In the second episode, Miranda’s head is buried between Che’s legs, as Che takes a phone call.
Why so graphic?
In the post-Girls/Euphoria/The Idol era, it doesn’t seem like a trailblazer.
It’s just cheap. It’s insulting.
Is the relationship between Che and Miranda defined solely by gender? It’s a nasty stereotype.
This season, much like the last, feels like a soulless exercise in ticking off a woke checklist.
Che lies in bed with his hands on his head, holding a wrought iron headboard, while Miranda awkwardly tries on a black leather harness for a strap-on and fumbles with a variety of fake penises.
In the second episode, Miranda’s head is buried between Che’s legs, as Che takes a phone call.
A disabled character – understood.
An executive from Carrie’s podcast company is a pregnant woman in a wheelchair.
Trans teen – done and dusted.
Charlotte’s daughter, Rose, announced last season that they wanted to be called Rock.
White supremacy – yes, sir!
Lisa’s husband, a very successful businessman, dressed in a power suit, can’t hail a cab on Manhattan’s Upper East Side because he’s black and the cab drivers are fanatics.
What? It’s quite unbelievable, but who cares. It gives the show the opportunity to ring that bell.
“And Just Like That” is clearly a way for “Sex And The City” to atone for their “sins” of the past.
Samantha once poured a bucket of water on transgender prostitutes, who roamed the streets outside her bedroom window keeping her awake at night.
Che and Miranda can’t have normal sex. It must be super perverted. (Above) Miranda trying on a leather harness
What show wouldn’t look terribly dated after 20 years?
The bottom line is that “Sex And The City” led American culture. “And Just Like That” desperately tries to catch up with a world that has passed it by.
It’s nothing more than a 50-year-old progressive white woman’s panic attack – a “Woke for Dummies” guide.
If anyone can come to the rescue, it’s Samantha.
Unfortunately, Cattrall would only make a small appearance, which was downplayed by Nixon as “a very small fan wave”.
Well, I hope the actors and producers are all enjoying their salaries, someone should get some enjoyment out of this experience.
But loyal audiences deserve better than this echo of the original.
