Carrie Bradshaw says Farewell in the Final Season of And Just Like That… (2021–2025)
And Just Like That, it’s over! And we are shocked and more than a little saddened. Showrunner, Michael Patrick King announced via social media on August 1st that the beloved Sex and the City (1998-2004) spinoff was no more, assiduously avoiding the word cancelled (a nod we believe to the power of the esteemed Sarah Jessica Parker – otherwise known as S.J.P. – who became a producer way back in the second season of Sex and the City [1998-2004]). Although some of the criticisms of the spinoff were warranted, we enjoyed watching the once four (now five) fabulous ladies, gallivanting all over New York City’s most intimate bakeries and innovative restaurants (in the final episode, Carrie dines solo at an Asian restaurant serviced by robots and is given a large stuffed doll to accompany her, to ease her assumed loneliness) in their fabulous, and at times, fabulously outlandish attire.
Who was in Carrie’s inner circle in the end? Well, the ride-or-die core was still intact with Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), now out and proud and coupled up with sophisticated British media maven Joy (Dolly Wells) and the ever sensible and uptight Charlotte (Kristin Davis), trying to balance life at home with husband Harry (Evan Handler), and their two kids Lily (Cathy Ang) and Rose (Alexa Swinton) and the hectic social life of her art gallery where considerably younger colleagues beckon her back to a nightlife she’d long left behind. But to their credit, the folks that made Sex and the City got the memo on the stark whiteness of the original series and diversified the cast adding Lisa Todd Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker), the gorgeous African American film maker who, like good friend Charlotte, juggles a family composed of daughter Gabrielle (Ellie Reine) and son Henry (Alexander Bello), a devoted, but sometimes self-absorbed husband Herbert Wexley (Chris Jackson), and a condescending, disapproving mother-in-law, and the sophisticated Seema Patel (Sarita Choudhury), the high-powered Indian American realtor who bravely branches out on her own when she’s overlooked in her boss’s succession planning.
But while the final season brought the laughs and hilarity, the plots at times were also clunky, failed to resonate with the potential depth of the characters (and the talent of the cast), dragged out too long, or were not fully fleshed out. In the first category, we are “treated” to the trio of Mia (Ella Stiller), Silvio, and Epcot (aka the worst dinner guests ever) who brought their brand of obnoxious entitlement to Miranda’s Thanksgiving dinner. While Mia, pregnant with Miranda and Steve’s (David Eigenberg) son Brady’s (Niall Cunningham) baby, lounges and eats, her thoughtless friend Epcot causes a repulsive clog in Miranda’s toilet, while the openly gay and rather nasty Silvio feels the need to vogue in the tiny living room.
In the dragged out too long category, we have Carrie’s rekindled romance with Aidan Shaw (John Corbett) which died a slow and painful death with Carrie making far too many concessions for a man who allowed his home and romantic lives to be ruled by an unruly and attention-seeking teenage son. It was painful to watch Carrie try to convince her friends that her inability to contact and visit Aidan was justified by his love for his son and the son’s need to adjust to their relationship. It was also cringe-worthy to see Carrie brush off Aidan’s infidelity with his ex-Kathy whom he “comforted” not with his words and embraces, but with his penis! And yes, it was appalling to watch Carrie try to manage Aidan as he tried to insert himself into her writing relationship with her stoic and handsome downstairs neighbour Duncan Reeves (Jonathan Cake).
In the case of unfulfilled plots, when Lisa started to fall for her film editor, the creative, talented, and also married Marion Odin (played by the tall, dark, and handsome Mehcad Brooks), she abruptly put a stop to their simmering chemistry (of course, the sensible thing to do), although her husband Herbert was spiralling at home after his municipal politics loss. What would have been far more interesting is for Lisa to explore and question her attraction to Marion (even if she did not act on it) as it related to her unfilled documentary about unsung African American women (including the incomparable nineteenth-century sculptor Edmonia Lewis), Herbert’s self-absorption, and his refusal (across their marriage) to defend her from the harsh criticism of his sharp-tongued mother.
Another branch that was too abruptly cut away was Charlotte and Harry’s sexual recovery from Harry’s prostate cancer operation. Although we learn in the final episode that Harry has restored sexual function, for a show that has been notorious for the oversharing of intimate issues and private sexual details, we are not made privy to the medical or sexual impacts of Harry’s diagnosis and recovery. And although we see Charlotte’s fear and anxiety before Harry’s operation, we are given no insight into her psycho-sexual recovery as she cares for a partner who is unable to participate in intercourse.
But as with Sex and the City, And Just like That also brought the “spit your beverage out” outrageous hilarity of over-the-top sexual and romantic scenarios that sparkled with the unexpected. (Example: Do you remember when Carrie, travelling with Charlotte, had to order their taxi driver to stop and pick up Miranda and Samantha to counsel Charlotte after she’d just been asked to partake in anal sex?) Fabulously gay friend Anthony Marentino’s (Mario Cantone) launch of the Hot Fellas Bakery, replete with suggestively clad (in denim jumpsuits) and well-hung, well, “hot fella” male employs brought a flash of past glory. So too did Seema’s odd-couple relationship with Carrie’s gardener, Adam (Logan Marshall-Green), who feasts on her arm pits and insists that she not wear deodorant.
In the final season, an important character and a plot went missing altogether. We longed for the brilliant and gorgeous black female Columbia University professor, Dr. Nya Wallace (Karen Pittman), and by writing her out, the show lost an opportunity to explore themes like anger, mourning, loss, and redemption. If you recall, before she disappeared, Nya had just discovered that her black cutie-pie musician ex-husband Andre Rashad Wallace (LeRoy McClain) had moved on from their troubled holding pattern of trying to have a baby, and impregnated his new white girlfriend.
Now, as enlightened as we may wish to be, we must state the obvious. There is little worse that a black man can do to a sista than move on from their romantic relationship with a white woman! But to do so abruptly and to seal that ending with a pregnancy would be experienced as the ultimate rejection. Unfortunately, the series did not allow us to witness how Nya’s otherwise composed and intelligent character would have worked through this devastating news and how, if in any way, her former student and good friend Miranda would have processed and supported her through her pain. Keeping Nya’s character in the mix would also have allowed a discrete relationship to develop with Lisa, who of all the ladies, would have been most capable of understanding her feelings of betrayal.
We die-hard fans of Sex and The City have seen Carrie and the gang through a lot: horrible and fantastic sex, small and large penises and “funky tasting spunk” (to quote Kim Cattrall’s Samantha Jones), playboys, and doting boyfriends, one-night stands, and devoted relationships, typewriters, laptops, and too many sex columns to count. But through it all, female friendship was at its core. Blessedly, that never changed. But we are also grateful that Sex and the City and its beloved movie and TV spinoffs never let up on celebrating women as vibrant, intelligent, sexual beings throughout their thirties, forties, and fifties!
It is indeed disturbing how few TV shows and films centre vibrant older women and their careers and romantic relationships and lives as opposed to casting them as bit players (the mother, grandmother or work colleague) in someone else’s grand narrative. In this regard, Sex and the City and its successor, And Just Like That, never let us down. So, thank you, Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte, Lisa, Seema, and Nya for setting a very high bar for comedy, grief, love, family, passion, romance, and yes sex, for other shows to meet or surpass.