And Just Like That ... Sex and the City's Carrie Bradshaw gets her groove back

The Advertiser

2 days ago

"She's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
So says Cynthia Nixon - not just of Miranda Hobbes, the character she's embodied for almost three decades, but of her show, HBO's Sex and the City revival And Just Like That..., which has come into its own in Season 3.
Less preoccupied with pleasing everyone, the show is more interested in telling the truth. In this case, truth looks like complexity. Women in their 50s with evolving identities. Not frozen in time, but changing, reckoning, reliving. Queerness that's joyful but not polished. Grief without melodrama. A pirate shirt with a bleach hole that somehow becomes a talisman of power.
Nixon and co-stars Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristin Davis say their show has evolved into something deeper, more raw and more reflective of who they are now.
Season 3 marks the return of Carrie Bradshaw's iconic internal monologue that once defined Sex and the City.
The series has always followed Carrie's rhythm, but now it brings back something deeper: her voice. Literally. "We've always loved the voiceover," Parker said. "It's a rhythm - it's part of the DNA."
The voiceovers return as Carrie rediscovers her direction - offering viewers a renewed sense of intimacy and connection. That growth is echoed in her rekindled relationship with Aidan and her acceptance to step back for him to focus on his troubled son.
The character who in 1998 first stopped a cab in Manolo Blahniks - and once floated through Manhattan chasing shoes and column deadlines - is now grounded in reinvention, the wounds of loss and cautious hope. The word is: grown up.
"She doesn't burst into tears or stomp out of the room anymore," Parker said. "She asks smart, patient questions. That's not effort - that's just her nature now. People seem surprised that she is mature. But that's just basic developmental stuff - hopefully, simply by living, we get better at things. It's not surprising. It's just real."
If Carrie is the compass, Miranda is the seismic shift. Her arc - which now includes a late-in-life queer awakening - may be the show's most radical contribution to TV.
For Nixon, who publicly came out while still playing straight in the original Sex and the City, that evolution is deeply personal.
"There's never a 'too late' moment. Miranda comes to queerness at 55," Nixon said. "That doesn't mean everything that came before was wrong. It just means this is her now. And it's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
On TV, where characters linger in our lives for years, intimacy and empathy develops: "Television puts someone in your living room, week after week. They're imperfect, they make you laugh, and eventually you say, 'I know that person. They're my friend'.
"That's more powerful than one mythic, perfect film. That's where the change happens. There was a time when gay people on screen had to be saints or martyrs. Now, we can be characters like Miranda - who've had rich, fulfilling heterosexual lives and now stumble upon queerness, and not in a tidy way. There's collateral damage. That's important."
Season 3 narrows its scope, pulling focus back to the emotional cores of Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte. What remains is a cleaner, more character-driven story. "I think one of the great things about our show is we show women in their 50s whose lives are very dramatic and dynamic," Nixon said. "You get to this age and there's a lot going on - if you choose to keep moving forward."
Kristin Davis, who plays Charlotte, noted that those life shifts come fast and often overlap: "She really starts to unravel. But the joy is her friends are there".
Fashion, as ever, is present - but now it feels more personal than aspirational. Parker described insisting on wearing a ripped vintage Vivienne Westwood shirt with a bleach hole: "It had to be in an important scene. It meant something".
Even the show's iconic heels, still clacking through New York's brownstone-lined streets, feel louder this season.
And yes, Carrie is writing again - not her usual musings, but a "historical romance" that lets the show wink at its own pretensions. Taxis become carriages. Voiceovers drift into period drama.
Her beloved blouse - vintage, shredded, almost costume - fits the mood perfectly: century-leaping fashion for a century-leaping Carrie.
"You're better today than you were 10 years ago," Parker said. "That's not just Carrie - that's everyone."
AP/AAP
"She's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
So says Cynthia Nixon - not just of Miranda Hobbes, the character she's embodied for almost three decades, but of her show, HBO's Sex and the City revival And Just Like That..., which has come into its own in Season 3.
Less preoccupied with pleasing everyone, the show is more interested in telling the truth. In this case, truth looks like complexity. Women in their 50s with evolving identities. Not frozen in time, but changing, reckoning, reliving. Queerness that's joyful but not polished. Grief without melodrama. A pirate shirt with a bleach hole that somehow becomes a talisman of power.
Nixon and co-stars Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristin Davis say their show has evolved into something deeper, more raw and more reflective of who they are now.
Season 3 marks the return of Carrie Bradshaw's iconic internal monologue that once defined Sex and the City.
The series has always followed Carrie's rhythm, but now it brings back something deeper: her voice. Literally. "We've always loved the voiceover," Parker said. "It's a rhythm - it's part of the DNA."
The voiceovers return as Carrie rediscovers her direction - offering viewers a renewed sense of intimacy and connection. That growth is echoed in her rekindled relationship with Aidan and her acceptance to step back for him to focus on his troubled son.
The character who in 1998 first stopped a cab in Manolo Blahniks - and once floated through Manhattan chasing shoes and column deadlines - is now grounded in reinvention, the wounds of loss and cautious hope. The word is: grown up.
"She doesn't burst into tears or stomp out of the room anymore," Parker said. "She asks smart, patient questions. That's not effort - that's just her nature now. People seem surprised that she is mature. But that's just basic developmental stuff - hopefully, simply by living, we get better at things. It's not surprising. It's just real."
If Carrie is the compass, Miranda is the seismic shift. Her arc - which now includes a late-in-life queer awakening - may be the show's most radical contribution to TV.
For Nixon, who publicly came out while still playing straight in the original Sex and the City, that evolution is deeply personal.
"There's never a 'too late' moment. Miranda comes to queerness at 55," Nixon said. "That doesn't mean everything that came before was wrong. It just means this is her now. And it's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
On TV, where characters linger in our lives for years, intimacy and empathy develops: "Television puts someone in your living room, week after week. They're imperfect, they make you laugh, and eventually you say, 'I know that person. They're my friend'.
"That's more powerful than one mythic, perfect film. That's where the change happens. There was a time when gay people on screen had to be saints or martyrs. Now, we can be characters like Miranda - who've had rich, fulfilling heterosexual lives and now stumble upon queerness, and not in a tidy way. There's collateral damage. That's important."
Season 3 narrows its scope, pulling focus back to the emotional cores of Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte. What remains is a cleaner, more character-driven story. "I think one of the great things about our show is we show women in their 50s whose lives are very dramatic and dynamic," Nixon said. "You get to this age and there's a lot going on - if you choose to keep moving forward."
Kristin Davis, who plays Charlotte, noted that those life shifts come fast and often overlap: "She really starts to unravel. But the joy is her friends are there".
Fashion, as ever, is present - but now it feels more personal than aspirational. Parker described insisting on wearing a ripped vintage Vivienne Westwood shirt with a bleach hole: "It had to be in an important scene. It meant something".
Even the show's iconic heels, still clacking through New York's brownstone-lined streets, feel louder this season.
And yes, Carrie is writing again - not her usual musings, but a "historical romance" that lets the show wink at its own pretensions. Taxis become carriages. Voiceovers drift into period drama.
Her beloved blouse - vintage, shredded, almost costume - fits the mood perfectly: century-leaping fashion for a century-leaping Carrie.
"You're better today than you were 10 years ago," Parker said. "That's not just Carrie - that's everyone."
AP/AAP
"She's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
So says Cynthia Nixon - not just of Miranda Hobbes, the character she's embodied for almost three decades, but of her show, HBO's Sex and the City revival And Just Like That..., which has come into its own in Season 3.
Less preoccupied with pleasing everyone, the show is more interested in telling the truth. In this case, truth looks like complexity. Women in their 50s with evolving identities. Not frozen in time, but changing, reckoning, reliving. Queerness that's joyful but not polished. Grief without melodrama. A pirate shirt with a bleach hole that somehow becomes a talisman of power.
Nixon and co-stars Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristin Davis say their show has evolved into something deeper, more raw and more reflective of who they are now.
Season 3 marks the return of Carrie Bradshaw's iconic internal monologue that once defined Sex and the City.
The series has always followed Carrie's rhythm, but now it brings back something deeper: her voice. Literally. "We've always loved the voiceover," Parker said. "It's a rhythm - it's part of the DNA."
The voiceovers return as Carrie rediscovers her direction - offering viewers a renewed sense of intimacy and connection. That growth is echoed in her rekindled relationship with Aidan and her acceptance to step back for him to focus on his troubled son.
The character who in 1998 first stopped a cab in Manolo Blahniks - and once floated through Manhattan chasing shoes and column deadlines - is now grounded in reinvention, the wounds of loss and cautious hope. The word is: grown up.
"She doesn't burst into tears or stomp out of the room anymore," Parker said. "She asks smart, patient questions. That's not effort - that's just her nature now. People seem surprised that she is mature. But that's just basic developmental stuff - hopefully, simply by living, we get better at things. It's not surprising. It's just real."
If Carrie is the compass, Miranda is the seismic shift. Her arc - which now includes a late-in-life queer awakening - may be the show's most radical contribution to TV.
For Nixon, who publicly came out while still playing straight in the original Sex and the City, that evolution is deeply personal.
"There's never a 'too late' moment. Miranda comes to queerness at 55," Nixon said. "That doesn't mean everything that came before was wrong. It just means this is her now. And it's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
On TV, where characters linger in our lives for years, intimacy and empathy develops: "Television puts someone in your living room, week after week. They're imperfect, they make you laugh, and eventually you say, 'I know that person. They're my friend'.
"That's more powerful than one mythic, perfect film. That's where the change happens. There was a time when gay people on screen had to be saints or martyrs. Now, we can be characters like Miranda - who've had rich, fulfilling heterosexual lives and now stumble upon queerness, and not in a tidy way. There's collateral damage. That's important."
Season 3 narrows its scope, pulling focus back to the emotional cores of Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte. What remains is a cleaner, more character-driven story. "I think one of the great things about our show is we show women in their 50s whose lives are very dramatic and dynamic," Nixon said. "You get to this age and there's a lot going on - if you choose to keep moving forward."
Kristin Davis, who plays Charlotte, noted that those life shifts come fast and often overlap: "She really starts to unravel. But the joy is her friends are there".
Fashion, as ever, is present - but now it feels more personal than aspirational. Parker described insisting on wearing a ripped vintage Vivienne Westwood shirt with a bleach hole: "It had to be in an important scene. It meant something".
Even the show's iconic heels, still clacking through New York's brownstone-lined streets, feel louder this season.
And yes, Carrie is writing again - not her usual musings, but a "historical romance" that lets the show wink at its own pretensions. Taxis become carriages. Voiceovers drift into period drama.
Her beloved blouse - vintage, shredded, almost costume - fits the mood perfectly: century-leaping fashion for a century-leaping Carrie.
"You're better today than you were 10 years ago," Parker said. "That's not just Carrie - that's everyone."
AP/AAP
"She's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
So says Cynthia Nixon - not just of Miranda Hobbes, the character she's embodied for almost three decades, but of her show, HBO's Sex and the City revival And Just Like That..., which has come into its own in Season 3.
Less preoccupied with pleasing everyone, the show is more interested in telling the truth. In this case, truth looks like complexity. Women in their 50s with evolving identities. Not frozen in time, but changing, reckoning, reliving. Queerness that's joyful but not polished. Grief without melodrama. A pirate shirt with a bleach hole that somehow becomes a talisman of power.
Nixon and co-stars Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristin Davis say their show has evolved into something deeper, more raw and more reflective of who they are now.
Season 3 marks the return of Carrie Bradshaw's iconic internal monologue that once defined Sex and the City.
The series has always followed Carrie's rhythm, but now it brings back something deeper: her voice. Literally. "We've always loved the voiceover," Parker said. "It's a rhythm - it's part of the DNA."
The voiceovers return as Carrie rediscovers her direction - offering viewers a renewed sense of intimacy and connection. That growth is echoed in her rekindled relationship with Aidan and her acceptance to step back for him to focus on his troubled son.
The character who in 1998 first stopped a cab in Manolo Blahniks - and once floated through Manhattan chasing shoes and column deadlines - is now grounded in reinvention, the wounds of loss and cautious hope. The word is: grown up.
"She doesn't burst into tears or stomp out of the room anymore," Parker said. "She asks smart, patient questions. That's not effort - that's just her nature now. People seem surprised that she is mature. But that's just basic developmental stuff - hopefully, simply by living, we get better at things. It's not surprising. It's just real."
If Carrie is the compass, Miranda is the seismic shift. Her arc - which now includes a late-in-life queer awakening - may be the show's most radical contribution to TV.
For Nixon, who publicly came out while still playing straight in the original Sex and the City, that evolution is deeply personal.
"There's never a 'too late' moment. Miranda comes to queerness at 55," Nixon said. "That doesn't mean everything that came before was wrong. It just means this is her now. And it's messy. It can be messy. But it's real."
On TV, where characters linger in our lives for years, intimacy and empathy develops: "Television puts someone in your living room, week after week. They're imperfect, they make you laugh, and eventually you say, 'I know that person. They're my friend'.
"That's more powerful than one mythic, perfect film. That's where the change happens. There was a time when gay people on screen had to be saints or martyrs. Now, we can be characters like Miranda - who've had rich, fulfilling heterosexual lives and now stumble upon queerness, and not in a tidy way. There's collateral damage. That's important."
Season 3 narrows its scope, pulling focus back to the emotional cores of Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte. What remains is a cleaner, more character-driven story. "I think one of the great things about our show is we show women in their 50s whose lives are very dramatic and dynamic," Nixon said. "You get to this age and there's a lot going on - if you choose to keep moving forward."
Kristin Davis, who plays Charlotte, noted that those life shifts come fast and often overlap: "She really starts to unravel. But the joy is her friends are there".
Fashion, as ever, is present - but now it feels more personal than aspirational. Parker described insisting on wearing a ripped vintage Vivienne Westwood shirt with a bleach hole: "It had to be in an important scene. It meant something".
Even the show's iconic heels, still clacking through New York's brownstone-lined streets, feel louder this season.
And yes, Carrie is writing again - not her usual musings, but a "historical romance" that lets the show wink at its own pretensions. Taxis become carriages. Voiceovers drift into period drama.
Her beloved blouse - vintage, shredded, almost costume - fits the mood perfectly: century-leaping fashion for a century-leaping Carrie.
"You're better today than you were 10 years ago," Parker said. "That's not just Carrie - that's everyone."
AP/AAP