logo
Sarah Jessica Parker says she panicked when 'Sex and the City' was picked up by HBO: 'I didn't want to do a TV show!'

Sarah Jessica Parker says she panicked when 'Sex and the City' was picked up by HBO: 'I didn't want to do a TV show!'

Yahoo17-05-2025

Sex and the City sans Sarah Jessica Parker?! Well, it almost happened!
On the latest episode of the Are You a Charlotte? podcast, host Kristin Davis welcomed none other than her SATC costar, who revealed that, yes, there actually was a moment when Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), Samantha (Kim Cattrall), and Charlotte (Davis) could have been without SJP as their fearless fashionista friend Carrie Bradshaw.
Parker recalled that months after shooting the pilot in New York City back in 1997, she had essentially forgotten about the project until she was approached on the streets of the Big Apple by a well-known female producer, who told the actress that she had seen the pilot and thought it was "really good." Parker said she didn't think much of it and "went on with my day."
Soon after, though, HBO picked up the show — much to Parker's dismay. "I panicked," she told Davis about learning that the cable network wanted to move forward with the series. "When the show was picked up, I was like, 'I can't be on a TV show! I don't think I'm suited for that life.'"
While Parker acknowledged with fondness the fact that she had done TV before — including the shows Equal Justice, A Year in the Life, and the underrated early '80s high school comedy Square Pegs — the experience "also kind of depressed me," so she was reluctant to return to the small screen.
"I think that it was the idea of doing the same thing over and over and over again," she clarified about her hesitation regarding SATC.
"I think I'd always been lucky that I got to be on a television series and then it was over. Like, I met great people, had a great experience, worked with great actors, great directors, thought the stories were interesting, wanted to do the shows, and they had shorter lives, maybe one or two seasons," Parker said of her past TV projects. "And then I moved on and I would do a play or I'd do some readings, and then I'd do a part in a movie, and then I'd do, you know, a movie of the week. And I just kind of bounced around and I really thought, 'That is the goal. The journeyman is the goal. You want to be moving.'"
She continued, "So the idea of a television series meant that I couldn't do all those things," before admitting that she was wrong for thinking that way because actors "can still do [other] things on their hiatuses."
But, without the benefit of the hindsight she has now, Parker recalled anxiously asking her agent, 'Can you get me out of this?' and even offered to do anything else for HBO if it meant not having to commit to SATC. "I said, 'I will give my services to HBO to fulfill my contract. So, any movies, I'll do for X number of years."
However, Parker noted that her agent tried to get her to view the series commitment a little differently. "He said, 'It can be wonderful. It can be great.' And the beauty of HBO [at the time] was that it was kind of an unknown species ... and [former HBO chairman] Chris Albrecht said, 'Do it for a year, and if you don't want to do it anymore, we don't do it,'" she shared.
It was in that moment that Parker had a change of heart. "It went from being this kind of oppressive idea to this one with endless possibilities. And the first day we started shooting as a series, the location was up the street from my house. I remember thinking, 'I can walk to work. I'm not driving on to a lot. I'm not getting on a freeway and hoping I get myself there.' And I walked up to the location and I never looked back."
Never looked back indeed. As a result, Sex and the City ran for six seasons, earned seven Emmy Awards, including two Best Actress wins for Parker, saw the release of two theatrical films, and spawned the revival series And Just Like That, which returns for its third season May 29 on Max.
You can hear Parker's full conversation on Are You a Charlotte? below.
Read the original article on Entertainment Weekly

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Why Is Everyone on Television So Rich Now?
Why Is Everyone on Television So Rich Now?

Atlantic

time44 minutes ago

  • Atlantic

Why Is Everyone on Television So Rich Now?

Watching Carrie Bradshaw—erstwhile sex columnist, intrepid singleton, striver—float down the majestic staircase of her new Gramercy townhouse on a recent episode of And Just Like That while wearing a transparent tulle gown, on an errand to mail a letter, is one of the most cognitively dissonant television experiences I've had recently. And Just Like That has never been a particularly imaginative show with regard to women in midlife, but there's still something fundamentally off about seeing one of the canonical female characters of our era transformed into a Gilded Age archetype, worrying about a garden renovation and choosing back-ordered fabric for a chaise. Carrie, suddenly, has many hats. She communicates with a lover via handwritten notes while she waits for his liberation from the home front in Virginia. What's happened to Carrie, truly, is money. Two decades after Sex and the City rolled to a televised close, acknowledging that its own cultural relevance was waning, its characters continue in zombified form on And Just Like That, pickled in a state of extreme privilege where nothing can touch them. The drama is lifeless, involving rehashed old storylines about beeping alarm systems and 'a woman's right to shoes' that serve mostly as a backdrop for clothes. Charlotte, in a questionable lace workout jacket, worries that her dog has been unfairly canceled. Miranda, in one of a series of patterned blouses, gets really into a Love Island –style reality show. (Remember Jules and Mimi?) Lisa wears feathers to a fundraiser for her husband's political campaign. Seema, in lingerie, nearly burns her apartment down when she falls asleep with a lit cigarette, but in the end, all she loses is an inch or so of hair. The point of the show is no longer what happens, because nothing does. The point is to set up a series of visual tableaus showcasing all the things money can buy, as though the show were an animated special issue of Vogue or Architectural Digest. What's stranger still is that a series that once celebrated women in the workplace has succumbed to financial ideals right out of Edith Wharton: The women who earned their money themselves (Miranda and Seema) somehow don't have enough of it (spoiler—they still seem to have a lot), while the ones who married money (Carrie, Charlotte, Lisa) breeze through life as an array of lunches, fundraisers, and glamping trips, with some creative work dotted into the mix for variety. The banal details of exorbitant wealth—well, it's all quite boring. Lately, most of television seems stuck in the same mode. Virtually everything I've watched recently has been some variation of rich people pottering around in 'aspirational' compounds. On Sirens and The Better Sister, glossy scenes of sleek couture and property porn upstage the intrigue of the plot. On Mountainhead, tech billionaires tussle in a Utah mountain retreat featuring 21,000 square feet of customized bowling alleys and basketball courts. On Your Friends & Neighbors, a disgraced hedge-fund manager sneers at the vacuous wealth of his gated community (where houses cost seven to eight figures), but also goes to criminal lengths to maintain his own living standards rather than lower them by even a smidge. And on With Love, Meghan, the humble cooking show has gotten a Montecito-money glow-up. 'I miss TV without rich people,' the writer Emily J. Smith noted last month on Substack, observing that even supposedly normie shows such as Tina Fey's marital comedy The Four Seasons and Erin Foster's unconventional rom-com Nobody Wants This seem to be playing out in worlds where money is just not an issue for anyone. This is a new development: As Smith points out, sitcoms including Roseanne and Married … With Children have historically featured families with recognizable financial constraints, and the more recent dramedies of the 2010s were riddled with economic anxiety. Reality television, it's worth noting, has been fixated on the lifestyles of the rich and bored virtually since its inception, but as its biggest stars have grown their own fortunes exponentially, the genre has mostly stopped documenting anything other than wealth, which it fetishizes via the gaudy enclaves and private jets of Selling Sunset and Bling Empire. Serialized shows, too, no longer seem interested in considering the stakes and subtleties of most people's lives. Television is preoccupied with literary adaptations about troubled rich white women, barbed satires about absurdly wealthy people on vacation, thrillers about billionaire enclaves at the end of the world. Even our contemporary workplace series (Severance, Shrinking) play out in fictional realms where people work not for the humble paychecks that sustain their lives, but to escape the grief that might otherwise consume them. What does it mean that our predominant fictional landscapes are all so undeniably 'elevated,' to use a word cribbed from the Duchess of Sussex? And Just Like That is evidence of how hard it is for shows that take wealth for granted to have narrative stakes, and how stultifying they become as a result. But we also lose something vital when we no longer see 99 percent of American lives reflected on the small screen. Money isn't just making TV boring. It's also reshaping our collective psyche—building a shared sense of wealth as the only marker of a significant life, and rich people as the only people worthy of our gaze. We're not supposed to be able to empathize with the characters on-screen, these strutting zoo animals in $1,200 shoes and $30,000-a-night villas. But we're not being encouraged to empathize with any other kinds of characters, either—to see the full humanity and complexity of so many average people whose lives feel ever more precarious in this moment, and ever more in need of our awareness. On an episode in the final season of Sex and the City, a socialite named Lexi Featherston cracks a floor-to-ceiling window, lights a cigarette, and declares that New York is over, O - V - E - R. 'When did everybody stop smoking?' she sneers. 'When did everybody pair off?' As the hostess glares at her, she continues: 'No one's fun anymore. Whatever happened to fun? God, I'm so bored I could die.' Famous last words: Lexi, of course, promptly trips on her stiletto, falls out the absurdly dangerous glass panel, and plummets to her death. Her arc—from exalted '80s It Girl to coked-up aging party girl—was supposed to represent finality, the termination of the city's relevance as a cultural nexus. 'It's the end of an era,' Carrie says at Lexi's funeral, where Stanford is elated to have scored VIP seats next to Hugh Jackman. 'The party's officially over,' Samantha agrees. After six seasons of transforming how a generation of women dated, dressed, even drank, Sex and the City seemed to be acknowledging that its own moment had come to an end. The characters were undeniably older, no longer seeking anthropological meaning in a SoHo nightclub at 3 a.m. But the city that the show documented—and popular culture more broadly—had shifted, too: toward less spontaneity, less rebellion, and infinitely higher incomes. The year that final season aired, 2004, is possibly when television's prurient obsession with rich people really kicked off, with the launch of shows including Desperate Housewives, Entourage, and, notably, The Apprentice. A year earlier, Fox had premiered a soapy drama called The O.C., which charted the rags–to–Range Rover adventures of a teen from Chino who ended up ensconced in the affluent coastal town of Newport Beach. Until then, it had never occurred to me that teenagers could wear Chanel or drive SUVs that cost six figures, although watching them rattle around in McMansions the size of the Met provided much of The O.C. 's visual thrill. In direct response to the show's success, MTV debuted the reality show Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County a year later, and in 2006, Bravo countered with its own voyeuristic peek into the lives of the rich and fabulous— The Real Housewives of Orange County. Documenting wealth enticingly on television is a difficult balancing act: You want to stoke enough envy that people are inspired to buy things (gratifying advertisers along the way), but not so much that you risk alienating the viewer. Reality TV pulled it off by starting small. The women on the first season of Real Housewives were well off, but not unimaginably so. They lived in high-end family homes, not sprawling temples of megawealth. Similarly, when Keeping Up With the Kardashians debuted in 2007, the family lived in a generous but chintzy bungalow, having not yet generated the billions of dollars that would later pay for their minimalist compounds in Calabasas and Hidden Hills. During the 2008 financial crisis, a critic for The New York Times wondered whether the tanking global economy might doom the prospects of shows such as The Real Housewives of Atlanta, which had just premiered, and turn them into 'a time capsule of the Bling Decade.' But the fragility of viewers' own finances, oddly, seemed to make them more eager to watch. Shows about money gratified both people's escapist impulses and the desire to critique those who didn't seem worthy of their blessings. As Jennifer O'Connell, a producer for The Real Housewives of New York City, put it to the Times a year later: 'Everyone likes to judge.' The toxic, unhappy, rich-people shows that have more recently proliferated on prestige TV—the Succession and White Lotus and Big Little Lies variation—cover their backs with cynicism. Money doesn't make you happy, they assert over and over, even though studies suggest otherwise. The documentation of extreme wealth on television with such clarifying bitterness, they imply, surely inoculates audiences from pernicious aspiration. Except it doesn't: The Four Seasons San Domenico Palace in Sicily was fully booked for a good six months following the second season of The White Lotus, despite the fictional bodies floating in the water. And a study conducted at the London School of Economics in 2018 found that a person's increased exposure to shows that regularly 'glamourize fame, luxury, and the accumulation of wealth' made them more inclined to support welfare cuts; it also noted other studies that found that the more people watched materialistic media, the more anxious and unhappy they were likely to be in their own lives. Watching shows about wealth does, however, seem to stimulate the desire to shop, which is maybe why this latest season of And Just Like That feels intended for an audience watching with a second screen in their hand—all the better to harvest the aspirational consumption the show's lifestyles might generate. Streaming services are already tapping into the reams of data they have on viewers by serving them customized ads related to the series they might be watching, and many are also experimenting with e-commerce. You could argue that And Just Like That is honoring the spirit of Sex and the City by putting fashion front and center. But the vacant dullness of the new season feels wholly of its time: This is television for the skin-deep influencer age, not the messy, pioneering drama it once was. More crucially, Carrie and company take up space that deprives us of more shows like The Pitt, one of a sparse handful of series documenting the workers trying to patch up the holes in an ever more unequal America. No one seems to have anticipated that the Max series would be such a success. As workers today are being squeezed 'for all their worth, no more chit-chatting at the water cooler, we've gotten to a point where reality for most people is quite unpleasant,' Smith writes on Substack. 'And executives are betting that we don't actually want to watch it.' The reality of the TV business also underscores why shows that sell us something—even if it's just the illusion of exceptional prosperity as a default—are easier to commission. But audiences will always be drawn to drama, and the stakes of defiantly deglamorized series such as The Bear and Slow Horses feel necessary in this moment, when the state of the future relies so much on the direction and quality of our attention.

Sarah Jessica Parker 'Shocked' By Unpopularity Of ‘AJLT's Che Diaz, Says She Loved Working With Sara Ramirez
Sarah Jessica Parker 'Shocked' By Unpopularity Of ‘AJLT's Che Diaz, Says She Loved Working With Sara Ramirez

Yahoo

time2 hours ago

  • Yahoo

Sarah Jessica Parker 'Shocked' By Unpopularity Of ‘AJLT's Che Diaz, Says She Loved Working With Sara Ramirez

With the arrival of season three of And Just Like That, the sequel to Sex and the City, viewers have noticed the absence of Sara Ramirez as Che Diaz, a non-binary stand up comedian who was previously the love interest of Miranda (Cynthia Nixon). The character proved polarising with fans, with some critics describing her as a caricature of queer culture and an example of how the show has clumsily tried to update itself for the reboot. More from Deadline Mickey Down & Konrad Kay Reveal The Tarantino-esque Series They Were Working On Before 'Industry' - SXSW London Jesse Armstrong's 'Mountainhead' Becomes Most-Watched HBO Original Film Since 'Bad Education' Warner Bros Discovery Hits Back At Russell Simmons' "Unfounded Allegations" In Ex-Mogul's $20M Suit Over 2020 Sexual Assault Documentary - Update Now, star and producer Sarah Jessica Parker has said she was 'shocked' to discover the character was so deeply disliked. Parker told The Guardian newspaper this weekend: 'A friend of mine brought it up to me, and it's like: 'What are you talking about?' And he said: 'Yeah, there's all this conversation.' 'I've been an actor for 50 years, and I've almost never paid attention to peripheral chatter. I loved working with them.' As for her own character Carrie, on her enduring romantic rollercoaster supported by the more constant consolations of her friends and her love of fashion, Parker said she was delighted by the use of the word 'antihero' to describe her. 'I prefer that to any other description of her, because it allows her to be as male as the men have been. I love The Sopranos so much, and I look at all the times [Tony] was unlawful, and we loved him. Carrie has an affair and everybody falls apart. 'An antihero, to me, is somebody that's not behaving in conventional ways, and she hasn't ever… A lot of people love her too, though!' Sex and the City ran for 94 episodes between 1998 and 2004. The third season of And Just Like That is currently airing on HBO Max. Best of Deadline 2025 TV Series Renewals: Photo Gallery 2025 TV Cancellations: Photo Gallery 'Stick' Soundtrack: All The Songs You'll Hear In The Apple TV+ Golf Series

'Sex and the City 'Star Kristin Davis Clarifies That She Never Dated Chris Noth
'Sex and the City 'Star Kristin Davis Clarifies That She Never Dated Chris Noth

Yahoo

time7 hours ago

  • Yahoo

'Sex and the City 'Star Kristin Davis Clarifies That She Never Dated Chris Noth

Sex and the City stars Kristin Davis and Chris Noth were previously rumored to have dated during their time on the show But on Friday, June 6, a fan of the show asked Davis in her Instagram comments if the decades-old rumors were true The HBO star promptly replied, and clarified that she and Noth "didn't" dateKristin Davis is clearing up decades-old rumors. The Sex and the City and And Just Like That... star clarified in an Instagram comment on Friday, June 6, that she and her costar, Chris Noth, never dated. Davis, 60, currently hosts the Are You A Charlotte? podcast, where she chats all things Sex and the City with guests, including Megan Thee Stallion on the Monday, June 2 episode. The 30-year-old musician has notably shared her distaste for Noth's character, Mr. Big, Carrie Bradshaw's on-and-off again love interest through the series and films. On Friday, June 6, Davis shared a clip of her discussion with the Grammy winner, who said, 'I'm not pro-Big. I hate Big.' But one follower commented, 'Maam didn't you date him??' Davis retorted and finally put to rest the rumors that have swirled about her and Noth. 'No i didnit!!!' The Instagram user thanked Davis for her candor. 'omg I have been lied to thank you for setting me straight!! i even googled this and there are several links saying you did i swear i didn't make this up.' Davis starred as Charlotte, alongside Noth, 70, and Sarah Jessica Parker. She was one of Carrie's three best friends, along with Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) and Samantha (Kim Cattrall). During Megan Thee Stallion's appearance on Davis' podcast, the rapper asked if Big (a.k.a. John James Preston) was a part of the Sex and the City spinoff, And Just Like That… 'Something happened to him,' Davis said with a knowing smile, before asking, 'Should I ask her? I don't want to ruin it for you.' 'Tell me,' the musician said, and Davis very quietly whispered, 'He died,' leaving the singer shocked with her mouth agape. In the And Just Like That… premiere in 2021, Carrie and Mr. Big are in wedded bliss, only for their happiness to come to an abrupt halt when Big suffers a fatal heart attack after a 45-minute ride on his at-home Peloton bike. Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer​​, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories. Shortly after the episode aired, Noth was accused of sexually assaulting multiple women, which he denied. Davis, Parker and Nixon issued a joint statement: "We are deeply saddened to hear the allegations against Chris Noth.' The statement continued: "We support the women who have come forward and shared their painful experiences. We know it must be a very difficult thing to do and we commend them for it." In an August 2023 interview with USA Today, he maintained that his only transgression was cheating on his wife, Tara Wilson. Noth denied the other allegations, calling what he termed the "add-ons" to the women's stories "completely ridiculous" with "absolutely no basis in fact." Read the original article on People

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store