Latest news with #AndJustLikeThat
Atlantic
an hour ago
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
Lights Out, With a Whimper
Carrie Bradshaw's last episode of television ended not with a bang but with a flush, which feels appropriate somehow. 'Party of One,' the series finale of HBO Max's And Just Like That, rehashes old patterns for the show's last hurrah, but no one's heart seems to really be in it: Miranda tries to adjust to an unexpected pregnancy; Seema wonders if she could be happily partnered without marriage; Charlotte tells Carrie, 'I'm so excited to show you my new hallway,' to which Carrie replies, pro forma, 'I may be alone for the rest of my life.' The image left in my head, though, is of the toilet bowl being frantically flushed by Charlotte's art-dealer boss, a man whose private jet can't spare him from the gastrointestinal Thanksgiving issues of a lactose-intolerant Gen Zer. Humiliation, more than anything else, has been the theme of all three seasons of And Just Like That, a cringe comedy without comedy. (Who among us will ever forget Carrie peeing into a plastic bottle while Miranda got to third base with Che in her kitchen, or Charlotte taking a pratfall onto a Tracey Emin–esque art installation and emerging with a used condom stuck to her face?) To be fair to the series, which is more than it deserves, Sex and the City was also often about mortification—the indignity of putting yourself out there as a single woman time and time again, only to be rewarded with funky spunk, porn-addicted dates, pregnancy scares, STDs, men who can't ejaculate without shouting misogynist slurs, envelopes full of cash on the nightstand. When it debuted on HBO in 1998, Darren Star and Michael Patrick King's show seemed determined to puncture the fantasy of single life in post-feminist Manhattan. 'Welcome to the age of un-innocence,' Sarah Jessica Parker's Carrie narrated in the pilot. 'No one has breakfast at Tiffany's, and no one has affairs to remember. Instead we have breakfast at 7 a.m. and affairs we try to forget as quickly as possible.' Over the course of six seasons and two movies, the show's thrillingly cynical core got smothered by cloying commercialism—a fixation on both wide-eyed romance and flamboyant luxury. What stayed consistent, though, was the disgust the show seemed to manifest anytime it was forced to think about the corporeal bodies beneath the characters' clothes: Carrie's horror at Miranda's postpartum nipples and Samantha's disgust at her unwaxed bikini line, Charlotte's refusal to look at her own vagina, Anthony's appalled proclamation—when Samantha returned from Los Angeles approximately three pounds heavier—of 'Mother of God, what's with the gut!' And Just Like That has been a lot of things since its debut late in 2021: an apologia for the sins of the past, a lookbook, a backdrop for cameos from the two most Machiavellian men on reality television. But it's consistently been oddly squeamish about both sex and human physicality—almost pathologically so. During the first season, critics winced at the heavy-handed flagellation of the characters for their unconscious bias and uptight middle age; during the second, the show's lack of purpose and stakes crystallized into excruciating storylines about strap-on sex toys and, in one case, an unsolicited octogenarian dick pic that rudely interrupted a fundraiser with Gloria Steinem. The third season, set in the more genteel location of Carrie's new Gramercy Park townhouse, seemed nevertheless stuck on the idea that anyone still tuning in must be watching with the sound off, cackling at the visuals of their favorite characters being ritualistically shamed for the crime of aging. And so: We had not one but two stories about Harry's penis—first a brief examination of something called 'ghost sperm' that troubled Charlotte during sex, followed by a multi-episode storyline about prostate cancer that left Harry impotent and peeing all over his raw-denim jeans. Seema's armpits occupied a variety of scenes, culminating in the gardener she began dating recommending a crystal deodorant that failed her during a crucial business meeting. Charlotte's sudden struggle with vertigo left her staggering all over Manhattan like a toddler on a boat. Miranda, cursed on this show like no one else, had sex with someone who turned out to be a virgin nun, accidentally flashed Carrie, became a meme after a disastrous appearance on live television, and eventually found love with a woman who's strikingly weird about her dogs, even for a Brit. And Just Like That, as Jake Nevins wrote in July, 'feels, at times, openly hostile to its own source material and even to the characters themselves.' The pie shoved in Anthony's face by his lover, Giuseppe, felt like a neat distillation of how crudely the series seemed to clown its characters, week after week after week. Earlier this year, I wrote about television's current obsession with extreme wealth, and how shows such as And Just Like That suffer from the diminished stakes that come with easy abundance. When you're insulated from calamity, maybe, the worst thing that can happen is physical degradation—a reminder that no matter how big your closet, how exclusive your couture, we all share the same basic bodily functions, which can fail and shame us in all the same discomfiting ways. Still, the casual cruelty with which And Just Like That treated its cast's bodies as punch lines and visual gags seemed to suggest a deeper unease with what it means to age—to be undeniably, messily human. The show occasionally expressed the same kind of disgust toward poverty, or toward any evidence of how rising inequality in New York has left many people to live. In the finale, Carrie visits her old apartment, now occupied by a jewelry designer named Lisette, and is horrified to see that Lisette has divided the studio into two claustrophobic spaces with a temporary wall, presumably because she can't afford roughly 600 square feet on the Upper East Side all by herself. The moment reminded me of a plotline in Season 2, in which Miranda went home with a voice actor who was her dream date, only to be repelled by the woman's cramped space: the cat-litter tray, the unmade bed. No one wants their fantasies to be punctured so abruptly, and yet both scenes demonstrate how out of touch these characters have become, and how hard it is for us to empathize with them in turn. Anthropological curiosity used to define Carrie's work as a columnist; now, in her 50s, she's happier behind the walls of an inward-facing fantasy land, posing for no one in her pre–Gilded Age living room, and turning her romantic misadventures into a god-awfully mawkish historical novel. It's not the ending I would have chosen, but it sure does make it easier to say goodbye.
Time Magazine
2 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Time Magazine
Charlotte and Miranda Deserved More From 'And Just Like That'
Warning: This post contains spoilers for the Season 3 finale of And Just Like That. And Just Like That put loyal Sex and the City fans through a lot. There was Big's death by Peloton in the very first episode, the diabolical caricature of a non-binary person that was podcaster/comedian Che Diaz, and a slew of both plot continuity errors and tonal inconsistencies. Not to mention the larger-than-life absence of one Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall). But, now that the Sex and the City spinoff has officially come to an end, we can definitively say that one of the show's worst offenses was the ways in which it failed two of its predecessor's most important and beloved central characters: Charlotte (Kristin Davis) and Miranda (Cynthia Nixon). While Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) received main-character treatment and sufficient closure in the two-part Season 3 finale—which was announced as the overall series' finale just a few weeks before it aired—Charlotte and Miranda capped off a season of lukewarm storylines with a figurative whimper. Considering how creator Michael Patrick King broke the news of the decision to end the show, it seems possible the Season 3 finale was not initially intended to be And Just Like That's final installment. Were that ever confirmed to be the case, we'd be slightly more willing to forgive the episode's missteps. However, if we are to believe King's claims that it became clear to him all the way back when he was writing the finale that it "might be a wonderful place to stop," and that he and Parker held off on announcing the news simply because they "didn't want the word 'final' to overshadow the fun of watching the season," the show's late-stage offenses becomes far less excusable. Let's start with Miranda. While Season 3 did finally give And Just Like That-era Miranda an age-appropriate and intellectually compatible romantic partner in the form of Joy (Dolly Wells), it wasn't enough to make up for the weekly humiliation rituals to which she was subjected—from being turned into a viral news blooper meme to proving herself an inexplicably terrible houseguest. Even with mere minutes to go in the series finale, we were forced to watch as Miranda spent Thanksgiving evening scrubbing the bathroom floor clean following a disastrous toilet overflow caused by Epcot (Spike Einbinder), the Disney park name-bearing and lactose intolerant friend of Mia (Ellie Stiller), the soon-to-be baby mama of a still freshly adult Brady (Niall Cunningham). If you're not sure what to make of the sentence you just read, we don't blame you. But, case in point. While Miranda was involved in embarrassing hijinks in Sex and the City, she was never the butt of the joke. And where her storyline in Sex and the City culminated in a historically cynical Miranda finding happiness in the life she was building with Steve (David Eigenberg) and baby Brady in Brooklyn, this time around, Miranda couldn't even be bothered to try to mend the rift that had opened between her and Brady over her meddling in his relationships before the credits rolled. As for Charlotte, well, she barely got any storyline at all. After a season of suffering from vertigo and doing her best to navigate the prostate cancer diagnosis of her beloved husband Harry (Evan Handler), Charlotte was all but sidelined in And Just Like That's finale. We saw her help Harry finally get his mojo back and continue to come to terms with the non-binary identity of their child Rock (Alexa Swinton), but for Charlotte personally, there was a glaring lack of substance. The show almost seemed to acknowledge this in a conversation between Charlotte and LTW (Nicole Ari Parker) in which Lisa lamented that marriage seems to always be about their husbands' feelings and disappointments rather than their own, and asked Charlotte whether she would still get married knowing what she knows now about "the way it really is." Charlotte's response? "Oh, absolutely." This squares with what we know about Charlotte's deep and abiding love for her family. But while Charlotte was always a traditionalist, in Sex and the City, she contained multitudes. The Charlotte that And Just Like That left us with felt, sadly and utterly disappointingly, far more one-dimensional.
Metro
2 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Metro
Sarah Jessica Parker addresses And Just Like That viewers backlash
Sarah Jessica Parker has addressed the rabid response to And Just Like That, after the show bowed out with a final faecally-focused episode. The HBO and Sky revival of the thirty-something cult classic Sex and the City was never short of its detractors and the naysayers stayed strong in their dislike right up until the final episoden. Titled Party of One, the finale centred around Thanksgiving, as Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) debated whether she was prepared to live a single life after her relationship with Aidan (John Corbett) had broken down earlier in the season three run. She attended a dinner hosted by Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), who was trying to curry favour with her son's now-pregnant one night stand – and her group of Gen Z friends. One of said friends ended up eating a platter of cheese, despite being lactose intolerant – as you do. She then did quite the number on Miranda's toilet. (Yes, really, this was the plot of the series finale). What followed was an overflowing toilet and Miranda on her hands and knees donning rubber gloves, questioning how her life had got here, as one might do when having to clean up the results of a stranger's loose bowels. To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video Naturally, viewers who still hold the fabulous, Cosmo-filled Sex and the City dear were not too impressed with where the show ended up in its return, with some taking to social media to brand the And Just Like That swansong 'terrible'. Sarah Jessica Parker, who also executive produced the series, has now addressed the haters and discussed why this was the moment to take the show off the air. Speaking in a new interview with the New York Times, when asked about those who hate-watch the show, she said: 'I don't think I have the constitution to have spent a lot of time thinking about that. We always worked incredibly hard to tell stories that were interesting or real.' Parker added: 'I guess I don't really care.' 'And the reason I don't care is because it has been so enormously successful, and the connections it has made with audiences have been very meaningful.' More Trending As for the show ending, Parker said she 'absolutely' supported the creative decision to have Carrie solo at the close and on calling And Just Like That quits, she simply said this was where the story ended. 'We could have gone on doing coffee shops. There's a million ways to do it that are easy and familiar and fun, but feel exploitative to us,' Parker explained. 'We felt this was the honourable thing to do. It's very easy to stay. It's where we're all happy. But you have to be principled when you make these very difficult, agonizing decisions because there's a lot of people who are affected.' View More » And Just Like That is available on Sky and streaming service NOW. Got a story? If you've got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@ calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we'd love to hear from you. MORE: Only one thing can save And Just Like That's final season MORE: Sex and the City star reveals 'mortifying' moment older man was told to grab her behind
Indian Express
4 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
‘Sex and the City' showed fashion could be joyful — ‘And Just Like That' shows it must also be responsible
When the HBO show Sex and the City (1998-2004) began airing, it was quickly recognised as being more than just a television show; it was a cultural moment. For many, it redefined what women's lives, friendships, and ambitions could look like in New York City and beyond. And, perhaps most importantly, it gave fashion a voice, treating clothes not as mere costumes but as extensions of identity, aspiration, and even rebellion. Carrie Bradshaw's (Sarah Jessica Parker) Manolo Blahnik heels became shorthand for daring indulgence, Samantha Jones's (Kim Cattrall) power suits for unapologetic confidence. Charlotte York's (Kristin Davis) ladylike dresses reflected romantic idealism, while Miranda Hobbes's (Cynthia Nixon) practical workwear symbolised a woman navigating ambition and motherhood. Fashion in Sex and the City wasn't just fabric; it was narrative. It invited women everywhere to dream — not only of closets full of couture, but of lives where fashion could serve as freedom, self-expression, and social capital. The show democratised the imagination of luxury by turning it into fantasy. For the price of a cable subscription, viewers could vicariously live through Carrie's tulle skirts, Fendi baguettes, and Dior newspaper dress. That fantasy made us believe fashion could be our passport into a bigger, more glamorous life. But looking back from today, that dream feels more complicated — in a time when sustainability, inclusivity, and shifting gender politics shape how we think about clothes. But then came the sequel, And Just Like That (2021-2025), with its third season wrapping up recently. And here, the fashion story shifts. While the costumes are still striking — Carrie in Valentino, Charlotte in Oscar de la Renta, Miranda embracing a more fluid style — the emphasis is no longer on aspiration alone. Instead, it is on interrogation. And Just Like That asks: What does fashion mean in a world where inclusion, sustainability, and shifting gender politics matter just as much as aesthetics? This evolution is striking because it mirrors our own cultural journey. The 1990s and early 2000s were obsessed with consumerism, status, and excess. Fashion was spectacle, a glittering escape from reality. Today, however, our closets are increasingly burdened with questions: Who made this garment? At what cost to the planet? Does this piece allow me to express my identity beyond the binary? Can style coexist with sustainability? In And Just Like That, these questions bubble to the surface, even if subtly. Che Diaz (Sara Ramirez), a non-binary stand-up comic and Miranda's love interest, introduces a wardrobe that challenges the rigid dichotomy of 'women's fashion' versus 'men's fashion.' This alone is a radical departure from the world of Sex and the City, where femininity was performed through heels and handbags. Meanwhile, Charlotte's daughter Lily experiments with identity, prompting conversations about how Gen Z and Gen Alpha navigate fashion without the rules that governed their parents. Together, these characters expand the canvas of fashion — no longer confined to stilettos and clutches, but encompassing non-binary styles and generational experimentation. Carrie herself trades her sky-high heels for practical footwear in certain episodes — not because she no longer values glamour, but because age and experience demand new definitions of comfort and elegance. Perhaps the most meaningful shift lies in what fashion no longer hides. In Sex and the City, clothes were a shield — Carrie wore couture even when her bank account was near empty; Miranda suited up to hide vulnerability; Samantha wielded glamour as armour. In And Just Like That, fashion is still powerful, but it is porous. It reveals insecurities, contradictions, and the discomfort of ageing in a culture that worships youth. Carrie's layered, sometimes eccentric outfits reflect a woman renegotiating her sense of self after loss. Charlotte's polished looks clash with her messy attempts to be the 'perfect' mother in a rapidly changing social landscape. Fashion is no longer fantasy alone; it is friction. It is this very push-and-pull — fashion as both fantasy and friction — that makes And Just Like That a cultural text worth taking seriously. It doesn't abandon the joy of dressing up. There are still moments of jaw-dropping couture, gowns that belong on mood boards, and shoes that remind us of Carrie's undying love for heels. But it tempers this joy with honesty. Just as our wardrobes today oscillate between thrifted finds, rental couture, and recycled fabrics, the show's styling reflects a world where fashion is not about perfection but about negotiation. Critics often complain that And Just Like That lacks the sparkle of the original. And perhaps they are right — but that lack of sparkle is in itself, the point. Fashion in 2025 cannot dazzle us in quite the same way as it did in 1998. We are no longer innocent consumers. We know the labour conditions behind fast fashion, the environmental cost of discarded textiles, and the hollowness of endless consumption. The fantasy has changed because we have changed. What we seek now is not just a dream, but a dialogue. And so, if Sex and the City made us dream through fashion, And Just Like That forces us to rethink what fashion means in an age of inclusivity, sustainability, and shifting gender politics. Together, they form a continuum: One taught us fashion could be joy, and the other reminds us it must also be responsibility. That may be the greatest gift of these shows — proving that fashion, like life, evolves. It doesn't lose relevance with age or social change; it simply asks harder questions. And in those questions — messy, uncomfortable, and beautiful — fashion remains what it has always been: A mirror to who we are, and who we dare to become. The writer is assistant professor of design, IILM, Gurgaon
Hindustan Times
5 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Sarah Jessica Parker responds to people hate-watching And Just Like That: ‘I don't really care'
Actor Sarah Jessica Parker, widely recognized for her portrayal of Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City universe, has responded to the mixed reactions surrounding the reboot And Just Like That, and has a message for all the people who love to 'hate-watch' the show. Cynthia Nixon, Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristin Davis were seen in the reboot, And Just Like That. Sarah Jessica Parker responds to the hate During an interview with New York Times, Sarah, who has played Carrie Bradshaw in the Sex and the City franchise for the past 27 years, responded to viewers who love to hate-watch the series' latest reboot, And Just Like That. The series ended with a finale airing on August 14. After the finale, the actor spoke to the publication, saying she doesn't pay much thought to the haters. 'I don't think I have the constitution to have spent a lot of time thinking about that. We always worked incredibly hard to tell stories that were interesting or real. I guess I don't really care. And the reason I don't care is because it has been so enormously successful, and the connections it has made with audiences have been very meaningful,' she said. That being said, the actor is satisfied with the ending of the series. When asked if she liked the decision to wrap up the role of Carrie on her own, she shared, 'Absolutely. I feel good about her. I think she's set up pretty well.' Regarding the haters, Sarah, in an interview to People, said, 'I think you're going to perhaps read things or hear things that don't always feel great. When you're part of a community, people are going to have a lot of feelings. And it doesn't mean that a feeling can't change, it's a reaction. We want very much for people to have all those feelings, and it's not for us to police or try to correct them.' More about And Just Like That The series follows Carrie Bradshaw, Kristin Davis' Charlotte York and Cynthia Nixon's Miranda Hobbes as they navigate all of life's ups and downs as women in their 50s. The show first premiered on HBO Max in December 2021. It concluded with its season 3 on August 14. The series was a spin-off of Sex and the City, which ran from June 1998 to February 2004. The show followed the three friends along with Kim Cattrall's Samantha Jones. The popularity also led to two films, 2008's Sex and the City, and its sequel two years later, and a series, The Carrie Diaries, which ran from 2013 to 2014. The Sex and the City universe is based on Candace Bushnell's newspaper column and 1996 book of the same name.
