And just like that… I can’t watch another second of this lazy, woke slop.
No doubt 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 cherished franchise in season one.
The knock-off lacked everything that made the original series great; sharp dialogue, compelling characters and plots broaching taboo topics that mainstream American entertainment had never dared touch.
The new show was all about labels; trans, cis, white, black.
So, when HBO Max dangled news of the surprise return of Kim Cattrall’s iconic, Samantha, I jumped.
Samantha wasn’t in the first season of the sequel, but if Cattrall’s ballsy, offensive, authentic character was coming back, so was I. She won’t stand for this progressive nonsense.
I couldn’t wait.
Now, I wish I had.
The creatives behind this series have learned nothing.
More likely, they’re perfectly content on milking this brand for all it’s worth and destroying it in the process. But what’s truly worse is that they actually demean the marginalized groups that they claim to represent.
The first episode, predictably, centers around Carrie Bradshaw in the final stages of mourning her late husband, Mr. Big, who keeled over post-Peloton ride, last season.
Charlotte (Kristin Davis) is not really doing anything other than being anxious. And Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is in Los Angeles with her nonbinary partner Che Diaz, a stand-up comedian who is filming a sitcom.
The first episode, predictably, centers around Carrie Bradshaw in the final stages of mourning her late husband, Mr. Big, who keeled over mid-Peloton ride, last season. (Above) Carrie with fleeting, new love interest
Samantha (above, left) wasn’t in the first season of the sequel, but if Cattrall’s ballsy, offensive, authentic character was coming back, so was I. She won’t stand for 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 realtor 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 estranged husband. Lisa is trying to raise money for her documentary. Seema is dating a con man and gets in a fight with her hair stylist.
Episode One opens with a montage of all the characters, save one (lonely Nya), engaged in the throes of passion.
The soundtrack of their furious lovemaking: a Britney Spears/Elton John collab-remix of ‘Hold Me Closer’.
Carrie is under the covers with her podcast producer in the bedroom. Charlotte snuggles up against her husband Harry. Seema and Lisa are shown in more compromising positions.
But Miranda and Che are fully naked, breasts out, writhing in a hot tub, in the middle of the day in Los Angeles.
That’s all within the first few minutes. And if you think that’s a lot – just you wait.
As usual, the story circles 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 queer, non-binary person.
Here in season two, in an obvious nod to how ridiculous that looked, Che gets irked by the wardrobe department of their new tv show, as they try to dress them in a cheesy, flashy blazer.
‘Hello America, I’m non-binary!’ Che quips, recognizing the caricature.
But then, they’re right back at it.
Carrie is under the covers with her podcast producer in the bedroom.
Miranda and Che are fully naked, breasts out, writhing in a hot tub, in the middle of the day in Los Angeles.
Che gets irked by the wardrobe department of her new tv show, as they try to dress them (Che uses plural pronouns) in a cheesy, flashy blazer.
Of course, Che and Miranda can’t have normi sex. It’s got to be super kinky.
Che lays in bed, hands over head, grasping a wrought iron headboard, while Miranda clumsily tries on a black leather harness for a strap-on and fumbles around with a variety of fake penises.
It would be nice if the producers let actor Sara Ramirez explore Che’s character and explain why Miranda moved across the country, leaving 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, this doesn’t come off as pioneering.
It’s just cheap. It’s insulting.
Is Che and Miranda’s relationship solely only defined by sex? It’s an ugly stereotype.
This season, just like the last, feels like a soulless exercise in ticking off a woke checklist.
Che lays in bed, hands over head, grasping a wrought iron headboard, while Miranda clumsily tries on a black leather harness for a strap-on and fumbles around 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 — got it.
An executive at 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 super-successful businessman, wearing a power suit can’t hail a cab on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, because he’s black and taxi drivers are bigots.
What? That’s wholly unbelievable, but who cares. It gives the show an opportunity to ring that bell.
‘And Just Like That’ is clearly a vehicle for ‘Sex And The City’ to atone for its ‘sins’ of the past.
Samantha once poured a bucket of water on transgender prostitutes, who nosily walked the streets outside her bedroom window keeping her awake at night.
Che and Miranda can’t have normi sex. It’s got to be super kinky. (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’ is desperately playing catch-up with a world that’s 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 reportedly only makes a small cameo, which was downplayed by Nixon as ‘a very small wave at the fans’.
Well, I hope the actors and producers are all enjoying their paychecks, someone should get some pleasure out of this experience.
But the loyal audience deserves something better than this echo of the original.
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Read more at DailyMail.co.uk