And Just Like That… hasn’t had a struggle to find its audience. Sex and the City was adored as it aired, and even in examinations of its failings, the show is still acknowledged for its cultural significance and remains widely beloved. Fans were more than eager to tune in to a reboot series. But what And Just Like That has struggled with is satisfying its audience. Between Season 1’s hamfisted efforts to make up for the valid criticism of its lack of representation and the shock of Big’s (Chris Noth) death, to Season 2’s handling of Che Diaz (Sara Ramirez) and Aidan Shaw (John Corbett), it has left a sour taste in the collective mouth of the fandom.
The critic consensus has been kinder to Season 3, with a 79% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, but fans are still unsure – the Popcornmeter sits at a measly 29%. While Carrie (Sara Jessica Parker) seems to be finally finding herself, and there are some swings in the right direction in Miranda’s (Cynthia Nixon) exploration of her sexuality, characterization as a whole still suffers in the confines of cringier storylines. Both of these things happen repeatedly on the show, arguably because And Just Like That abandons the format that made Sex and the City so great: Carrie’s voiceover storytelling connecting both sillier and more profound storylines together as the women functioned as their own sort of Greek chorus in little breakouts where they processed it all. And Just Like That desperately needs to get back to brunch and allow its disparate storylines to interconnect. It’s baffling that they abandoned it in the first place.
‘And Just Like That’ Neglects the Friendships That Built These Characters
In Season 3, Episode 2, “The Rat Race,” Charlotte (Kristin Davis) finds out that parents at her daughter’s school are working with “The Finger.” The Finger is college admissions coach Lois Fingerwood (Kristen Schaal). This plotline pressed hard on the ”I’m sad this isn’t Sex and the City” button. Charlotte becomes obsessed on Lily’s (Cathy Ang) behalf, encouraged by Lisa (Nicole Ari Parker), who is angling to help her son, Herbert (Elijah Jacob). In the original show, Charlotte was more than capable of making her own trouble and would’ve info-dumped everything she found after an unnecessary deep dive on the Finger’s socials at brunch. Samantha (Kim Cattrall) would’ve certainly commented on the nickname “The Finger,” and Carrie’s voiceover would carry us from the brunch unpacking that meeting to Charlotte’s next meltdown about her daughter’s future. But instead, one of Charlotte’s uninteresting, caricature-of-a-young-person co-workers at the gallery does the deep diving for her. And we’re forced to experience an unfunny, uninspiring show and tell.
The “Remember Sex and the City?” feeling happens again, as Miranda is explaining to Carrie – and a painfully straight and unavailable waiter she’s flirting with – her feelings about a Love-Island-esque reality show she’s hate-watching. Most of Miranda’s business in “The Rat Race” is regurgitating the show. Why can’t Miranda and Carrie watch an episode of the show together and unpack this crossroads in Miranda’s love life? In the original series, the women would meet up to watch everything from old movies to gay pornography. Carrie and Miranda would happily go across town to help Charlotte prepare her first Shabbat dinner. Now, we barely see the women in each other’s homes.
The shift to additional characters and increased dissonant scenes isn’t only off-putting to fans because it lacks a certain economy of storytelling. It makes it look – and feel – like these women aren’t close friends anymore. If that were the case, why reboot the show at all? And Just Like That already faces a huge challenge from the enormous hole Cattrall’s absence leaves in the show’s ability to push the envelope, make us laugh, and have a grounded, uncynical, sex-positive perspective. So, Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda feeling as close as ever is more necessary than ever. The absence of that isn’t just noticeable. It’s painful to watch.
‘And Just Like That’ Could Fix Its Flaws With a Focus on Friendship
There is a possible Season 3 throughline with Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda, and even the stories of Lisa and Seema (Sarita Choudhury), who are both experiencing huge shifts in their workplace brought on by unexpectedly departing friends. Charlotte is panicking about college admissions, while her daughter is sneaking off to kiss a ballet boy in the stairwell. Miranda is binge-watching reality TV and relearning her romantic approach. Carrie has gone from married to widow and is now regressing into an anxious, almost secret girlfriend as she overanalyzes texts and accepts a frustratingly undefined relationship with Aidan.
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Samantha’s Absence Is Hurting ‘And Just Like That’ More Than the Show Wants To Admit
A reboot was never going to be the same without her.
However, the show is so busy making viewers witness the full scope of every scene where this happens and continues to offer up so many mainstream sitcom hijinks — from dog identity scuffles to pee pants to literal rats — that there are immense lulls between emotional beats. The narrative is disorganized, awkwardly paced, and attempts to give characters outside the ones audiences have adored since the ’90s equal weight. Carrie’s voiceover, which also served as her relationship column in Sex and the City, would’ve kept these stories on course and communicated any possible threads clearly. It might also inspire a writer’s room to cut out padding that doesn’t work and just let Carrie muse or quip to her heart’s content. Even if Carrie’s voiceovers are going to be few and far between, and relegated to strange fiction that can seemingly only reflect her personal stories, just let these women talk about things! There is no scene in And Just Like That that wouldn’t benefit from a minute less of exposition for the sake of seeing Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda meaningfully connect.
‘Sex and the City’ Already Laid the Groundwork That ‘And Just Like That’ Needs
And Just Like That seems committed to permanently departing from Sex and the City’s successful format. Gone are the days of consistency in Carrie’s narrative threads, as well as the regular weekend brunches. But more than that, gone are the shared perspectives of four women who approach life, love, and everything in between very differently. Gone, it seems, is the core tenet of friendship that made these characters so beloved in the first place. In ditching this format, And Just Like That… has doomed itself to thinly connected side quests that increasingly separate the core group of friends, only to assign them to less interesting and established side characters that don’t seem to resonate much with anyone.
Sex and the City pushed the boundaries of female portrayals of sexuality, love, and friendship. It reshaped what television was willing to let women do on screen. Returning to these characters in their 50s should do the same. No other show has a built-in audience of multiple generations eager to watch older women go through the ups and downs of romance, careers, and everything in between. Without friendship to ground their experiences, and no real examination of what that means, And Just Like That feels at odds with everything that made its predecessor so legendary.