Critic’s Notebook: A frustrating “and so” finale wraps up a sophomore crisis

Hello everyone, our Queen, Kim Cattrall, who reportedly milked an eye-watering million dollars from less than two minutes of film time.

Cattrall’s critically acclaimed performance in And just like thatThe second season finale was doomed from the start, an obvious (and commendable!) money grab from an actor who understands her worth and knows exactly how to wield her influence. That Cattrall reportedly refused to have contact with her former Sex and the city castmates during filming – reportedly because she was denied equal pay for starring in the sequel series – only predicted that any cameo in which she would play her iconic role SATC ballbuster would be dead on arrival. No chemistry, no stamina. The return of Samantha Jones, the TV equivalent of Harry Goldenblatt’s dry orgasm, turned out to be a bunch of media-hyped foreplay followed by a blink-and-miss-it flash of empty joy. And believe me, many of us were fast asleep at the start of the next scene.

Samantha’s fleeting phone call to Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), simply telling her old friend she wouldn’t be able to attend her end-of-era celebratory dinner, was emblematic of a season brimming with character interactions meant to be meaningful. to be. yet it finally put us into a stupor. (Samantha, you didn’t miss any of this boring dinner, I assure you.)

And just like that‘s first season began and ended with some truly shocking twists and turns: Mr. Big’s death from a heart attack, Miranda’s latent queerness and extramarital affair with a goofy comedian, Carrie’s friendship-breaking disapproval of Miranda’s sudden life choices. In contrast, I can hardly remember anything about Season 2. Throughout its eleven episodes, Season 2 told its audience over and over again that it’s never too late to start over. However, what it showed us is that we have to be careful about what we wish for. For a show that is supposedly about fulfilling bourgeois fantasiesit can certainly be soul-numbingly gloomy!

On the surface, And just like that would have us believe that 55 is the new 35. Look, Carrie finds love again after widowhood! Wow, Charlotte is picking up her career as a gallerina again after 20 years like nothing ever happened! Huh, Miranda may fail her path to a higher position at a prestigious lobbying firm, despite the fact that a pandemic recession ended her successful law career!

Still, each of the show’s (way, way too) many characters can’t help but face disappointments at almost every new moment. All Carrie ever wanted was stability, but even after inheriting Big’s financial money, she still can’t get her love, Aidan (John Corbett), to spend 50% of his time with her while he’s still alive. to raise three children at a time. sons in Virginia. All Charlotte (Kristin Davis) craved in her life was being a wife and a mother, but when she was battling infertility in the early 2000s, I’m sure she only imagined cute little girls in cute little dresses, not a cocky teens complaining about being rich. Miranda may be doing well as a professional benefactor, but she’s still sleeping on a friend’s couch, barely interacting with her significant exes, and unable to inspire her nothing-behind-the-eyes teenage son to do anything with his life. to do. The grass is always dried out on the other side, it seems.

A reason And just like that that failed to ignite in the second season is because, frankly, it was watered down by so many storylines that barely a character thread felt fully developed. Carrie’s newfound relationship with ex-fiancée Aidan moved so quickly and glossed over so many bits of action that we never even got to know about what should have been an absolute highlight. decisive field trip to Virginia to meet Aidan’s children and ex-wife. I was so confused when I saw Carrie walk through the door of her apartment after this unseen excursion that I thought I had literally missed an entire episode. We’d previously spent nearly 40 minutes watching Carrie Ballyhoo talk about what Aidan’s dreamy pastoral farmhouse should look like… and never actually spent any time there.

Viewers should presumably be sad when Aidan cried to Carrie in the finale about how he has to stay in Virginia until his troubled 15-year-old son reaches adulthood. However, how can that scene and those emotions maintain any momentum if we have no idea how Carrie and Aidan fared in his home territory? How were we supposed to feel any organic empathy for Aidan’s young son when we have no clue as to the boy’s characterization or why he took psychedelic mushrooms, got drunk and crashed his father’s truck, forcing Aidan to revisit his hibernating lifestyle? evaluation, just like he and Carrie did? move in together? We were told only Aidan’s loose suspicions about his son’s motivations, and no substance to this predicament beyond a brief scene of dialogue between him and Carrie. Where’s the meat?!

Instead of mining this rich material (what could have more ingrained pathos than Carrie-freaking-Bradshaw navigating potential stepmotherhood?), And just like that listlessly plunged in and out of the lives of a sprawling jumble of characters. In addition to Charlotte and Miranda’s endless misery, we got Anthony (Mario Cantone) into a not even believable relationship with an Italian handsome boy; Lisa (Nicole Ari Parker) somehow got pregnant in her fifties; Nya (Karen Pittman) dealing with the fallout from a divorce that apparently happened while I wasn’t watching; Che (Sara Ramirez) seeks redemption after their TV pilot imploded; and Seema (Sarita Choudhury) battles her commitment phobia by getting together with a Marvel director. (And I’m not even counting the side characters here, like the show’s mix of love interests and young spawn.)

Other than Che, who is at least a concrete anti-hero, I wish I could say I care about all of these characters. But our time with them was so marginal every episode And just like that has never given me a legitimate reason to care this season. The writing and editing were so oddly paced and proportioned that it felt like we were getting the CliffsNotes versions of these people’s lives, especially through the relentless use of parallel editing. Sometimes more is less.

Despite these grievances, And just like that is not an active hatewatch – this is no Emily in Paris. Rather, it is just a purely pleasurable, moderately repulsive, sometimes disturbed comfort watch. Yes, the show can be very annoying. I can’t wait for more episodes.