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Tag: Charlotte York

  • Charlotte York: Not Necessarily the OG Practitioner of Shrekking, But Definitely the Most Successful Example of the Intended Result

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    Like “delulu” or “skibidi,” there seems to be no shortage of unexpected and (brainrot-inspired) slang words cropping up in the mainstream (and hell, even being added to the dictionary) in 2025. So it is that yet another word no one expected to crop up as “a thing” this year is “Shrekking.” Because, after all, it’s not as though Shrek 5 is out until next year. In any case, it’s a term that provides yet another testament to just how dire, how desperate dating (if it can even still be called that) has become in the post-swiping era. Not solely in the “straight” world either. Though that’s most assuredly, as Sabrina Carpenter would attest, where the male pickins are slimmest. 

    For those who couldn’t guess, the meaning behind the newly popular term is meant to indicate when someone is “dating down” a.k.a. lowering their expectations in the looks and personality (and, of course, etiquette) department in the hope that, because of said person’s glaring deficiencies, they might at least deliver in terms of treating you nicely instead of like shit. Alas, as Miranda Hobbes in Sex and the City said in the pilot episode, “I’ve been out with some of those guys. The short, fat, poor ones. It makes absolutely no difference. They are just as self-centered and unappreciative as the good-looking ones.” In other words, just as dickish and horrifying on the behavior front. 

    And, talking of Sex and the City (which is probably less tiring than talking of And Just Like That… or its series finale), it isn’t Miranda who is most known for “dating down,” despite that infamous line in the pilot, but rather, Charlotte York (Kristin Davis). More specifically, it’s her beloved dynamic with Harry Goldenblatt (Evan Handler), the “Shrek” of the relationship, that serves as at least part of the reason why women remain convinced that going for a guy who is less attractive than them will result in their thus far elusive “happily ever after.” Because, yes, ultimately Harry does turn out to be “living proof” (even if only in fictional form) that Shrekking can work. 

    Granted, more concrete, real-life examples of women doing so have not proven nearly as successful, with perhaps the first “prototype” in the land of the famous being Marilyn Monroe. And although it’s Arthur Miller’s appearance in comparison to hers that are called out the most (see: “Egghead Weds Hourglass”), Joe DiMaggio wasn’t exactly a looker either. In any event, Marilyn seemed to set a precedent for future hot girls (both famous and “civilian” alike) to lower their standards in the “aesthetics department” as well, all in the hope that there was something to this idea that uglier men surely must be nicer. Often times, however, it seems the uglier the dude, the crueler he actually is. Not so with Harry though…

    But back to the real-life examples of women who “dated down” and, unlike Charlotte, did not have the same fairy-tale ending. There was Princess Diana with Prince Charles (married for fifteen years, though living separate lives for a large bulk of that time), Christie Brinkley with Billy Joel (married for nine years), Julia Roberts with Lyle Lovett (married for just under two years) and Drew Barrymore with Tom Green (married for all of nine months). Shockingly, it was the latter who filed for divorce from her, though both cited irreconcilable differences. Much the same that Charlotte would with Trey MacDougal (Kyle MacLachlan) thanks mostly to her inability to reconcile with his erectile dysfunction. Even though it’s his mother (as usual), Bunny (Frances Sternhagen), who is the one making things feel so irreconcilable most of the time. This ramps up in the season five episode, “Plus One Is the Loneliest Number,” when Bunny traipses into “Charlotte’s” apartment one morning after the latter had just finished, shall we say, vetting her next Prince Charming, Justin Anderson III (Peter Giles). But it doesn’t take long for Bunny to chase him away by announcing that Charlotte is still married to her son. Sure, technically. Even though they’ve been separated for ages by now. 

    Bunny’s “pop-up” appearance, however, is what ultimately sends Charlotte straight into the arms of her true Prince Charming, initially mistaken for mere “Shrek” in the season five episode, “Critical Condition.” This is the first time Charlotte encounters her ogre, so to speak, after realizing that 1) she needs a lawyer to get Bunny off her dick about the apartment belonging to the MacDougals and 2) the lawyer she’s currently consulting with on her would-be messy divorce from Trey is too hot to be herself around. Or, as Carrie phrases it in a voiceover, “Charlotte realized she could never be as ugly as she needed to be in front of a man she considered so handsome.” It’s at that very moment that “gross” Harry, the other partner at the firm, walks in to grab a bagel and starts eating with all the grace of, well, a beast (with Charlotte and Harry at another point being described by Carrie as “the bachelorette and the beast”). Suddenly, Charlotte sees the potential in being able to speak freely about Trey—to get as “ugly” as she wants—with Harry. Thus, “And just like that, Charlotte changed lawyers.” And, in the process, would end up finding her Prince Charming as a result of quote unquote lowering her standards. 

    Of course, Harry’s “style” (sartorially, hygienically and otherwise) still takes some getting used to for Charlotte. And if it weren’t for the “hot s-e-x,” as she spells it out to Anthony (Mario Cantone), she might not be so easily enticed to go for the Shrekking maneuver before it had this name. But, in the next episode after meeting Harry, “The Big Journey,” he manages to turn on all the charm long enough to seduce Charlotte into bed (it doesn’t hurt that the bed in question is inside a very cheesy—but “hot”—bachelor pad he’s conveniently offered to show Charlotte as a way to help her find a new apartment). Out of nowhere, and much to her dismay, she finds herself falling for Harry’s line about her “perfect pink lips” and how he can’t stop fantasizing about them.  

    In the wake of the tryst, Charlotte confesses to Anthony at a gay club, “He’s my divorce lawyer and I don’t even like him,” in addition to, “I don’t wanna date him. He’s not very attractive.” And, as Charlotte made clear from the outset of the series, her criteria for Mr. Right not only includes a certain kind of job and “pedigree,” but also a certain kind of look (read: Ken doll handsome). Probably not just because Charlotte is vain, but also because she’s genuinely thinking about the “right” biological combination that will make her kids look attractive as well. 

    With Harry, however, all that staunch “logic and reason” of Charlotte’s goes right out the window along with her panties. For, by the time the finale of season five, “I Love a Charade,” rolls around, she can’t deny that not only is it “the best sex of her life,” but that she really does like Harry. That still doesn’t make it easy for her to totally ignore his general uncouthness or hairy back, but, in the end, she can’t deny that Shrekking actually paid off in a big way for her. Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) certainly couldn’t say the same about The Turtle (Timothy Wheeler) in the season one episode of SATC titled “The Turtle and the Hare.” Because, while The Turtle was willing to go along with all of Samantha’s “fixer-upper” ideas for him, Harry—a true Shrek through and through—did well to never much bother trying to alter his “crass” ways or physical appearance for Charlotte. Except a botched attempt at trying to get his back waxed for her in “I Love a Charade” (something that evidently “took” in subsequent seasons, for his hairy back never makes a cameo again). 

    In fact, it would turn out to be Charlotte making all the personal changes in her life for Harry, going so far as to convert to Judaism so that he’ll ask her to marry him (this plot, too, hits its rough patch in the sixth season, but eventually resolves by episode six, “Hop, Skip and a Week”). And while every other relationship in SATC can never manage to stand the test of time, it’s Charlotte and Harry’s that keeps on going strong, even in And Just Like That… (“zany”—read: non sequitur—as their plots are in these “later years” of their marriage). 

    Alas, Charlotte is among the rare examples to have gotten such a great relationship out of her Shrekking endeavors (which is probably why it’s fictional). And while many (especially women) are willing to try Shrekking, most end up only getting “Shrekked.” In other words, deigning to let someone less attractive have the privilege of accessing their body only to still end up being disappointed and/or getting their heart broken by the Shrek of the hour.  

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Party of One: With the And Just Like That… Series Finale, Michael Patrick King Gives Carrie the Ending He Always Wanted To—Albeit Poorly Executed

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    As has been Michael Patrick King’s wont throughout the third and final season of And Just Like That…, there have been a lot of callbacks to previous scenarios in Sex and the City. Whether this is truly intentional or not—or just a matter of not “remembering” the similarities (like not remembering that Lisa Todd Wexley’s [Nicole Ari Parker] dad had already died in season one)—the fact remains that the overall effect makes it seem less “calculated” and more like King and co. were out of truly fresh ideas. 

    With the supposed final chapter on Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) closing (though, based on past occurrences, viewers know that Bradshaw always has a tendency to “reanimate”), her conclusion is not only somewhat forced—a means to repair the ending that she was given for the series finale of Sex and the City—but also a redux of SATC’s season five episode, “Anchors Away.” In it, the running motif is based on something Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) tells her friends, including Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon) and Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall): “Everyone knows you only get two great loves in your life.” She then spells out, without thinking, that Big (Chris Noth) and Aidan (John Corbett) were Carrie’s, leaving her somewhat flummoxed about what that’s supposed to mean for her romantic future. However, another running theme, one that’s always been there in this particular show, is that the city of New York is her great love. Or, as she cheesily puts it to the others, “You’re never alone in New York, it’s the perfect place to be single. The city is your date.” 

    That doesn’t mean the city still won’t make you feel like shit for being “alone,” as it does when Carrie, in her bid to have a little date with herself, de facto New York, ends up caught in a rainstorm after realizing the Guggenheim is closed on the day she wants to visit it (so much for being a seasoned New Yorker). Even though, at present, the Guggenheim is open seven days a week. In any case, as a result of the closure and bad weather, she’s led to Café Edison (another now defunct NYC institution); never mind that, geographically speaking, it wouldn’t have been possible for her to just “stumble into it” a few blocks from the Guggenheim, seeing as how it was about a forty-five minute walk to do so (Carrie instead describes it as a mere “several wet blocks later”). But then, SATC has never prided itself on a sense of realism—so how could anyone have expected that And Just Like That… would? 

    However, one thing that both shows undeniably have in common is parading the question that King brought up on Kristin Davis’ Are You a Charlotte? podcast, the question that has been at the core of the narrative from its inception: “Am I enough? Am I enough alone?” In “Anchors Away,” it seems as though, for Carrie, the answer is still no. In fact, she’s disturbed from the outset by her experience at Café Edison, when the proprietor barks, “Singles at the counter!” Carrie tries to push back with, “Oh, I was hoping to get a table—” “Singles, counter!”

    At said seating arrangement, Carrie is further horrified by a glimpse into her future via the other woman at the “singles counter,” Joan (played by Sylvia Miles, a New York fixture until her death in 2019), who begins gabbing with her immediately. Taking a shine to Carrie because she sees something of herself in this person, Joan announces of the singles counter at the café, “We single gals gotta have a port in the storm, am I right?” Carrie doesn’t look so convinced of that being true as she observes Joan crushing some white powder on her plate. Joan explains, “Lithium. I like to sprinkle it on my ice cream. You ever try it?” Carrie says she hasn’t and, when further questioned by Joan about what “mood elevator” Carrie is on, the latter tells Joan she isn’t “on” anything. Joan smiles, saying she used to be like Carrie until she broke up with some guy named Morty in ‘82, adding, “Thought somebody better would come along. Never happened.” Obviously, Carrie feels the sting of that comment, having recently ended things with Aidan for what was then the second time. 

    What’s more, the question of the week for her column is whether or not, “when it comes to being carefree single girls, have we missed the boat?” For Carrie, the idea of losing her ability to be single without judgment a.k.a. being single while also being “of a certain age” is what scares her the most. More than being single itself. Which is why, later, at the Navy party (with Fleet Week also being a through-line of the episode), Carrie takes a look around at the goings-on—including Charlotte flashing a tit to one of the Navy officers—and realizes this kind of scene isn’t for her anymore, informing Samantha, “I was right. This ship has sailed. And, tragically, I’m still on it.” 

    In the so-called final episode of And Just Like That…, “Party of One,” Carrie is met with a similar feeling in the opening scene, which itself echoes the one when she’s at the “singles counter” with Joan. Only instead of having a live “seat mate” this time, And Just Like That… aims to show just how far Carrie has been thrust into the future—apart from the robot servers and digital menus—with a Tommy Tomato stuffed toy (sure to become a real thing after this…then again, maybe not). This is the “creature” she ends up sitting across from at the restaurant. Of which she tells the host, “I was walking by. It looked so interesting.” A comment that sounds borderline racist in that an Asian restaurant would be described as “interesting” to her at this juncture of her existence in NYC. Or the fact that, also at this juncture, she should be surprised by a menu presented to her on an iPad, where she selects the items she wants via the screen. Treating it as though she’s never seen one before at another restaurant, Carrie goes through a whole “I’m so naïve” bit before the host that seated her presents her with the abovementioned Tommy Tomato, beaming at Carrie as she explains, “You don’t have to eat alone.” 

    This time, she’s even more horrified/affronted than she was when she got saddled with Joan at the singles counter. And also this time, the geography of where Carrie ends up eating totally doesn’t match the reality of where she would be. For the location it’s shot at, Haidilao Huoguo, is in Flushing. Oh sure, Queens might have come up in the world, but definitely not to the point where Carrie Bradshaw would fuck with it on a whim. Though that isn’t to say she wouldn’t shlep to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, which is where it looks like she, Charlotte, Lisa and Seema (Sarita Choudhury) are when they attend a bridal fashion show. Before entering said show, Carrie recounts what happened to her: “Ladies, they put a boy doll across from anyone eating alone.” Not exactly great publicity for Haidilao Huoguo, but oh well.

    What’s more, gone are the days when, as in the season two episode, “They Shoot Single People, Don’t They?,” the relative “lack of technology” didn’t make such an experience feel all the more sad and bleak. And yes, at the end of said episode, Carrie has the same epiphany about an “okayness” with potentially being alone forever, delivering the voiceover, “Instead of running away from the idea of a life alone, I’d better sit down and take that fear to lunch.” She does just that, and, since phones weren’t pervasive in 1999, when the episode aired, she didn’t even have that as a crutch for sitting alone at a restaurant either, proudly declaring, “So I sat there and had a glass of wine…alone. No books, no man, no friends, no armor, no faking.”

    This constant exploration of what it would mean to be truly alone, perennially single is the North Star of the SATC universe (in addition to the four friends being each other’s true soul mates). Coming up repeatedly every time Carrie found herself, yet again, in the position of being an “old maid” (another trope that arises in the season five episode, “Luck Be An Old Lady”). In AJLT, with the realization that both Big and Aidan, her “two great loves,” as Charlotte once put it, are no longer options—seeing as how Big is dead and Aidan is overused (which is really saying something considering how overused Big once seemed to be)—Carrie, for the first time, doesn’t appear as though she’s holding out hope for someone to be her “other half” in the future. 

    As she tells Charlotte during their “walk and talk” after the bridal fashion show, “Who will I be alone? Yes, I know I’ve lived alone a lot, but I’ve never lived alone without the thought that I wouldn’t be alone for long.” She then concludes, “I have to quit thinking: maybe a man. And start accepting: maybe just me.” Charlotte, of course, refuses to give credence to the idea that being single at Carrie’s age is acceptable (just as she refused to accept it back when they were all “spring chickens”). Or that it might be a genuine possibility, which is why she decides to invite Mark Kasabian (Victor Garber), the art gallery owner that employs her, to Thanksgiving at Miranda’s, hoping Carrie will see that there are, in fact, still plenty of non-jank fish in the sea. Even at “their age.”

    Carrie, of course, isn’t having it, mainly because she’s never been even remotely attracted to nice guys (this, too, was part of why Aidan never really “did it” for her—granted, he showed himself to be a true asshole later on, which was, funnily enough, when she was most committed to the relationship). But Carrie isn’t so quick to get on board with Charlotte’s plucky attitude about “male prospects” for the future, with even Duncan Reeves (Jonathan Cake), the British bloke she finally slept with after a season of flirtatious energy, not panning out as a viable suitor. 

    All of which leads Carrie—and the viewer—back to what she had said at the end of the SATC series finale, “An American Girl in Paris (Part Deux)”: “The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.” As King reminded, “That was the sort of mission statement of Sex and the City. The interesting trick to it is Carrie then answered a phone call from a man who was coming to be with her [Mr. Big]. [But] it was always in my mind, ‘What happens if there’s no phone call?’ How strong of an individual do you have to be to make that same sentence when there’s no one on the horizon?” With Carrie adding to that sologamist line while answering Big’s phone call, “And if you find someone to love the ‘you’ you love, well, that’s just fabulous.”

    But in And Just Like That…, with Big dead, Aidan insufferable and Carrie being “too old” to have as many options on the dating scene as before, it appears King saw the opportunity to give his ultimate main character the ending he wasn’t bold enough to back then. The ending he didn’t think viewers would accept back then: “The woman realized she was not alone. She was on her own.” This being the “dazzling prose” Carrie chooses to conclude her 1800s-era manuscript with, despite the recommendation her agent gives her about how this would be a tragedy, especially for the time period. 

    And yes, viewers would have been ready to accept this conclusion—if only it hadn’t all been delivered so poorly…and so randomly, to boot. Complete with the much talked about clogged/overflowing toilet scene, which has absolutely no relevance or use to the episode. It can’t even be argued that it offers “comic relief” value. It’s just full-stop disgusting and basically mirrors the belief that this entire series was a turd that kept floating up. Until now. For that was it, the end. Finito. No more. And, by playing the SATC theme song during the credits, it just goes to show that King and co. were fundamentally trying to signal that all they wanted was to do their best to give the original Sex and the City the ending they thought it deserved. The more “courageous” ending for Carrie. For, as King also told Davis on her podcast, SATC was always about “the anarchy of saying single people are enough, being single is enough.”

    However, the way Carrie makes it look in these final scenes of AJLT, it doesn’t come across like that at all. Not even with the contrived musical selection of Barry White’s “You’re The First, The Last, My Everything” (which, by the way, is still much too easily associated with Ally McBeal—the eponymous character of said series, incidentally, ending up “alone” as well, perhaps proving it was more avant-garde in its day than SATC). 

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Every Subject That Nobody Wants This “Illuminates” Already Happened on Sex and the City

    Every Subject That Nobody Wants This “Illuminates” Already Happened on Sex and the City

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    As though to prove a point about Sex and the City’s long-lasting impact, Megan Thee Stallion recently appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon to tell him, despite other things she had to promote, that she had only just started watching the show and couldn’t believe how long she had slept on it. It would seem that the creator of Nobody Wants This, Erin Foster, might have been banking on people (like Megan Thee Stallion) to continue sleeping on said show—otherwise why borrow so many tropes from it? Not least of which, of course, is that its female lead, Joanne (Kristen Bell), would have to convert to Judaism in order to be with Noah, a rabbi who she encounters at a dinner party hosted by her friend and “PR gal,” Ashely (Sherry Cola). Which is where the SATC comparisons already start to flicker in. Because while, sure, Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) didn’t have to convert to Judaism for Harry Goldenblatt (Evan Handler), it was an integral part of the storyline in terms of “making their relationship work” (in addition to Charlotte having to overcome how much less attractive Harry was than her).

    But, obviously, Joanne’s character is much more in line with Carrie Bradshaw’s (Sarah Jessica Parker) “breed.” For, like Carrie, Joanne is something of a “sexual anthropologist,” using her dates as fodder for her podcast, called, naturally, Nobody Wants This (on a related note: to “update” Carrie’s column shtick for the present, she does get a podcast on the SATC “sequel series,” …And Just Like That). The difference between her and Carrie (apart from sartorial bombast) is that Joanne “co-researches” the dating scene with her sister and best friend, Morgan (Justine Lupe). It is Morgan who serves as the three-in-one sounding board—embodying the Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte characters all at the same time—for all of Joanne’s dating woes/horror stories. And this is something we’re given insight into from the moment the show starts and Morgan comes to collect Joanne from a bad date that the latter ditches out on because the guy keeps talking way too much about his grandma and the tragedy of losing her when he was twelve.

    The shit-talking of the first scene segues into the podcasting (and continued shit-talking) of the second scene, wherein Morgan not only expositorily informs Joanne that they’ve recorded one hundred and nineteen episodes, but that, throughout each one, she has revealed the same thing over and over again: “When you find a nice, normal guy…you find fault with him.” Case in point: “Grandma Guy.” Morgan further proffers that maybe Joanne doesn’t even want to find a real relationship, a theory that of course has truth to it since, without “bad date inspiration,” she’ll end up like Carrie in the season five episode, “Unoriginal Sin,” lamenting, “I’m not getting laid. Therefore…I’m getting laid off” (though, ultimately, she wasn’t).

    This “deliberately self-sabotaging” epiphany comes for both women. That’s right, even blind-to-everything Carrie is forced to have this epiphany about herself after a bad breakup (the first one, anyway) with Mr. Big (Chris Noth). The “breakthrough” occurs when her friends make her see a therapist named Dr. G (Anne Lange), who has another patient named Seth (Jon Bon Jovi) that Carrie keeps flirting with in the waiting room. It’s only after the two finally have sex that they each understand why there were attracted to one another. For Seth, it’s because he immediately loses interest in a woman after sleeping with her. For Carrie, the according revelation is, “I pick the wrong men.”

    As for Joanne, she’s more open about the joy of picking the wrong men for the sake of “the story” a.k.a. her podcast, which has started to gain enough traction to become considered as worthy of being a corporate acquisition. This almost “willful” choosing of the wrong men is done in a similar vein as Carrie, who relies on not just her friends’ relationship horrors, but her own in order to come up with a weekly column called, what else, “Sex and the City.” It is in this headspace that Joanne gleefully accepts Ashley’s invite to a dinner party where all the male guests “sound terrible.” Including a rabbi named Noah Roklov (Adam Brody, perennially resurrected, if one will pardon the Christian allusion). Except that Noah turns out to be the man she’s instantly attracted to upon entering the space. Only she doesn’t know he’s the rabbi because he doesn’t come out and admit it, instead going along with her mistaken assumption that it’s another guy at the party with a beard.

    When she does get the big unveiling of his identity, the reaction is that there is no romantic future whatsoever. But, of course, that’s what makes the allure all the more prominent. Which is how she ends up walking into his temple soon after (such Carrie behavior) to exchange a “witty repartee” also in the style of “flirtatious” Carrie when Noah jokingly asks, “Are you a member of this temple?” She replies, “You guys do memberships? Is there a gym?” Ho-ho-ho-har-har-har.

    In “Either Aura,” the third episode, Joanne spends the majority of it dissecting a text and the lack of response it gets the way Carrie would spend entire brunches and lunches dissecting something Big or [insert name of some other asshole here] did and what it “means.” Then there is the kind of spiraling she does in the season three episode, “Drama Queens,” wherein it takes Aidan (John Corbett) ignoring her for her to suddenly comprehend that losing his interest would be the worst thing ever. That’s the same kind of spiral Joanne is on throughout “Either Aura,” waiting for Noah to respond to a text that her sister tells her was “weird” (the text being: “I think I’m pregnant” in regard to how good their first kiss was).

    At first, Noah’s availability is almost a detriment to his “desirability.” Because, as Carrie says in “Drama Queens,” “I’m used to the hunt and this is just…effortless. It’s freakin’ me out.” Charlotte eventually has to interject, “I don’t believe this! Now we’re dumping guys for being too available!” The prospect of Noah not being available (you know, for other reasons besides being a rabbi) is equally as terrifying to Joanne, prompting her to wonder (or being unable to “help but wonder”) if she’s a “good” person. As in, morally decent enough for a rabbi.

    All of this making “her stomach flip all on her own” (another Carrie quote from “Drama Queens”) plays into Carrie’s pondering for her column: “When things come too easy, we’re suspect. Do they have to get complicated before we believe they’re for real? We’re raised to believe that course of true love never runs smoothly. There always have to be obstacles in Act Two before you can live happily ever after in Act Three. But what happens when the obstacles aren’t there? Does that mean there’s something missing? Do we need drama to make a relationship work?”

    If that’s genuinely the caveat, then Joanne and Noah are destined to be together (and predictably do end up that way for the season finale). Their density of “obstacles” are further compounded by Noah essentially acting ashamed to be with her in the fifth episode, “My Friend Joanne.” Needless to say, this smacks of the “Secret Sex” episode of SATC in season one. The allusion to it, whether “intentional” or not, is already made in the first episode of Nobody Wants This, when Morgan mentions a guy named Greg who wouldn’t be seen with Joanne in public. But this thread picks up again when Noah takes her to a Jewish youth camp in Ojai and suddenly acts the opposite of a loving boyfriend when he realizes his boss is going to be there and, thus, introduces Joanne to a colleague as a “friend.” It takes some of the teen girls at the camp to spell it out for her: he introduced her as his friend. Hence, they’re definitely not together as solidly as she thinks.

    To be sure, as Noah tells his brother, Sasha (Timothy Simons), “I’m not ready to face the whole ‘I’m dating a shiksa’ thing” in public. In fact, he’s convinced he won’t have to because Rabbi Cohen (Stephen Tobolowsky) won’t be there…or so he thought. But when the big boss shows up, Noah fully fathoms just how much is at stake for him, career-wise, in dating someone as non-Jewish (read: totally white bread) as Joanne. Who also happens to be coming across as Carrie-level clingy in this episode, whining to Noah when he tells her they have to cancel their Carmel trip because of his unexpected work commitment, “What am I supposed to do? Just stay at home alone?” Yes, bitch, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. In addition, apparently, to being unavoidably disgusted when a man is too “nice.”

    Or, in Noah’s instance, too “sniveling.” Specifically, to Joanne’s parents, who he meets in the sixth episode, titled “The Ick.” And, what do you know, it’s an episode that speaks exactly to what Sex and the City already did in season six with “The Ick Factor.” Centered on Carrie’s “steady” of the moment, Aleksandr Petrovsky (Mikhail Baryshnikov), being way too over the top—therefore, “icky”—with his romantic gestures, Carrie struggles vis-à-vis how to deal with someone so cringingly saccharine.

    Much the same as Carrie, Joanne can’t “digest” a man who brings flowers “for respect” and says obsequious things that end up involving him doing a bad Italian accent (specifically, so he can utter the word “Prego”—as in the nasty sauce brand—when Morgan says she found an old Prego jar to put the flowers in). Morgan, attuned to her sister in ways that no one else is, clocks the look on Joanne’s face when taking in all of the icky things going on with Noah in this scenario. When Morgan calls her out about having the ick, Joanne tries to deny it—to which Morgan warns, “You can’t fight the ick, it’s like a Chinese finger trap: the harder you pull, the stronger it gets.”

    But naturally, as it happened for Carrie and Aleksandr, Joanne is able to surmount her icky feelings thanks to being candid with the object of her ick about it so that said object can work to remedy being so “icky.” However, if Aleksandr’s eventual fate is something to go by, Noah isn’t totally out of the woods in terms of redeeming himself as Joanne’s “forever person” (besides, that wouldn’t make for “compelling television,” n’est-ce pas? Gotta leave viewers on their toes).

    The grand denouement of Nobody Wants This is the bat mitzvah of Noah’s niece, Miriam (Shiloh Bearman), who grudgingly goes along with the Noah’s mom/her grandma Bina’s (Tovah Feldshuh), desired theme: “Miriam Takes a Bite Out of the Big Apple.” A more than slightly traitorous choice in L.A., but perhaps Bina is aware that the Jewish population in NY is larger, with L.A. coming in second in the U.S. after it for having largest population of Jewish people.

    To the point of New York versus L.A., it must also be said that, as Sex and the City’s “fifth character” is New York, Los Angeles plays a key supporting character in Nobody Wants This (even if it additionally betrays L.A. by having what can be called a “Philip Roth book cover font” for its title card).

    What’s more, much of Sex and the City was rooted in a “Jewish undertone” (apart from just Carrie bandying “keywords” like “mazel tov” so annoyingly) precisely because it was set in New York (see also: Charlotte’s wedding episode in season six, “The Catch”). Indeed, that was pretty much the extent of the “ethnic diversity” that the show “allowed” for. With Nobody Wants This, there’s about that same amount of “diversity” despite the narrative taking place in a city as racially varied as L.A. And yet, the show appears to count on the glamoring distractions of familiar storylines from Sex and the City—whether it relates to overbearing mothers, awkward situations with vibrators, emotionally distant men or fundamental incompatibility. And maybe part of that reliance stems from Foster underestimating just how many viewers can still cite Sex and the City episodes like scripture.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • When Carrie Bradshaw Shamed Women With “Free Time,” Or: In Defense of Charlotte York’s “Retro” Decision to Not Work 

    When Carrie Bradshaw Shamed Women With “Free Time,” Or: In Defense of Charlotte York’s “Retro” Decision to Not Work 

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    Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), who has hardly ever been what one might call a “women’s advocate” (see: defending sexually predatory behavior), once famously shamed Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) for willingly becoming one of those women. You know, the ones who have the kind of free time for self-enrichment that allows them to take pottery classes in the middle of the day. Well, not a class, per se, so much as a jaunt into Color Me Mine, a real place that probably reached its pinnacle around the same time the episode in question, “Time and Punishment,” first aired in 2001. Because this was also the height of the Petroglyph era in California. Commercializing and mass-marketing pottery and ceramics classes perhaps in an avant-garde bid to teach something like mindfulness in an evermore mercilessly capitalistic world…long before the pandemic forced (some) people to slow down and reflect. The irony being, of course, that you still have to pay to be “mindful.”

    In fact, that’s precisely what Charlotte wants to do with her newfound freedom when she quits the gallery in season four: glaze a motherfuckin’ pot at Color Me Mine. But, to Carrie, that’s deemed somehow frivolous, purposeless and, for some reason, not “artistic” enough. It seems, however, that part of the reason Carrie exhibits such judgment about it (granted, as she does about many things) is because it probably hits too close to home. This idea that if you’re not working a “real job” that comes complete with an office space or “stationing” within some kind of edifice beyond your own abode, then you’re not actually working (which means, technically, going to Color Me Mine should count as a job). For Carrie, deep down, must have felt some level of “pinch me” guilt for being able to translate her sexual exploits/party girl ways into something like a regular paycheck (though, as it has been pointed out many times, certainly not the kind of regular paycheck that could afford Carrie her haute couture-drenched manner of living). 

    Because yes, many a “single gal” before and after her has tried to do the same (and do it better), only to be met with no such financially tantalizing offers for detailing their “rock n’ roll lifestyle.” Thus, perhaps mocking Charlotte for wanting to become a woman who glazes and lazes is a reflection of the underlying belief that “being a layabout” posing as an artist is, in actuality, what Carrie is doing too. That is, in her role as a “writer” a.k.a. sex columnist. Because even the most “legitimate” (whatever that really means) of writers struggle frequently with severe bouts of impostor syndrome. Especially ones who are entirely dependent on the lives of others for their “inspiration” (read: material). Which Carrie very much is, what with her vanilla predilections in the boudoir. Shit, even Charlotte comes across as more adventurous in the long run, almost becoming a rug muncher before Samantha in season two’s “The Cheating Curve” and kissing the hot gardener as a married woman in season three’s “What Goes Around Comes Around.” Carrie would never (mainly because she’s more classist than she lets on). And, obviously, Samantha is the primary source of fodder for Carrie’s column drawing so many eyes (or rather, so many eyes for a local rag). 

    Yet even Samantha, for all her “progressiveness,” gives Charlotte flak for her announcement, assuming, “Did you get a better offer from another gallery?” and, later in the conversation, “Well, be damn sure before you get off the Ferris wheel because the women waiting to get on are twenty-two, perky and ruthless.” As for Carrie, her thinly-veiled harsh words come in the form of, “Sweetie, if I was walking by [Color Me Mine] and I saw you in there, I’d just keep on walking.” The implication being that, unlike Charlotte, she sees no “nobility” or “value” in art for art’s sake. Or doing anything, really, that doesn’t have some specific “purpose” (even fucking has a purpose for Carrie: her column). This being such a New York outlook on life that it practically makes one want to vomit over how many people living in that city share such a view. In contrast, Charlotte previously tells her friends of spotting a so-called deadbeat/kept/unemployed woman, “Sometimes I’ll walk by one of those Color Me Mine pottery places and I’ll see a woman having just a lovely afternoon glazing a bowl.” 

    When Charlotte is met with nothing but crickets and blank stares, she feels the need to further justify “not working” (this phrase always designed to diminish the things one does and actually enjoys doing for no money). To do so, she also assures them, “And I wanted to volunteer at Trey’s hospital. And help raise money for the new pediatric AIDS wing.” Upon hearing that, Carrie “indulges” her friend’s “whim” by encouraging, “The cooking and the AIDS stuff is great…” only to gut-punch Charlotte with the aforementioned insult about “just keeping on walking” if she saw Charlotte glazing a bowl at midday. 

    Of course, that’s just called jealousy. For all working people are fundamentally derisive and judgmental toward those who “don’t work” (a.k.a. are just doing things that make them happy without placing a monetary value on it). Wishing they, too, could live such an unburdened, unbrainwashed life. But even Charlotte can’t deprogram from the idea that she has to be “useful” in some alternate fashion, like child-birthing. Continuing a new generation of Worker Soldiers who will also believe in the religion of Capitalism. Whether they’re forced to (by circumstance of birth) or not (also by circumstance of birth).

    Oddly, though, Charlotte chooses to take out Carrie’s judgment on Miranda by calling her the next morning and saying, “You were so judgmental at the coffee shop yesterday. You think I’m one of those women.” Genuinely confused, Miranda asks, “One of what women?” Charlotte snaps back, “One of those women we hate, who just works until she gets married.” The guilt over being “indulgent” enough to quit her job and take a risk on pursuing something less “directed” than working as an art curator/dealer has clearly gotten to her. And it’s not because she herself is questioning the “choice she chooses,” but because the lack of support from her friends, to her, signifies the lack of societal support for any woman who would dare to quit working. This, in effect, shows how far capitalism—not feminism—has come in indoctrinating people of all genders to believe that their primary value is in the amount of money they can bring home. So while Sex and the City disguises this as a mark of how the tables have turned on homemakers being the “freaks” instead of the working girls, it’s actually more telling of how women have been as subsumed by capitalism as men. Entirely taken with its seductive tenets, the top of the list being “independence.” By becoming a slave to whoever employs and underpays you. 

    At the end of “Time and Punishment,” Charlotte remains slightly ambivalent about her decision, snapping at the girl she’s hired to take over for her by barbing, “You’re twenty-two, what do you know about life?” Realizing her temper got away from her, she apologizes and explains, “I’ve been working my whole life, this is a big transition.” The twenty-two-year-old replacing her finally justifies her action by remarking, “If it’s any consolation, my mother worked all the time. It would have been nice to have her home.” Nonetheless, when Charlotte first told her replacement she was quitting to focus on motherhood, the girl looked at her with just as much horrified incredulity as Carrie (who, again, was way more judgmental than Miranda, despite the episode quickly centering the yin and yang “rivalry” between single women who work and married women who don’t on Miranda and Charlotte). So it is that Charlotte adds, yet again, her claim of being very focused on pediatric AIDS research. Because a social cause is better than no cause at all…if you have to confess to “not working.” A phrase that, to reiterate, not only belittles artists, but also domestic labor that is billed as somehow “lesser than” the non-“pink collar” jobs of this money-grubbing world. 

    And yet, what Charlotte ultimately proves by walking out of the job anyway, despite all the glares lobbied against her, is that nothing “tastes” as good as “not working” feels. Plus, it makes capitalists so very uncomfortable, something they ought to experience far more often than they’re made to. The dichotomy being that Charlotte has the luxury of being the most anti-capitalist of her friend group perhaps precisely because she’s benefited the most from capitalism via her inherited wealth.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Selena Gomez’s “Single Girl Anthem” Naturally Pays Homage to Sex and the City

    Selena Gomez’s “Single Girl Anthem” Naturally Pays Homage to Sex and the City

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    Considering Selena Gomez teased her latest single with a video of her lip syncing the dialogue of Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) from a season one episode of Sex and the City called “Three’s A Crowd,” it’s only natural that she should continue the homage to the perennial “single girl” show in her music video for “Single Soon.” And that arrives almost instantaneously by way of her “S” necklace and the leaving of a Post-It that directly quotes Jack Berger’s (Ron Livingston) infamous breakup note to Carrie: “I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.”

    Turning the notion of being the abandoned woman on its ear by becoming the abandoner, this note is placed on the table as Gomez chirpily sings, “Maybe I’ll just disappear/I don’t wanna see a tear.” Because who wants to deal with such icky emotions? Not Gomez. And, though we never see her walk out the door of the place where she left the Post-It, in a seemingly different apartment (though probably not one inside the Arconia because that would be too meta) “across town” (as Carrie B., would say in a voiceover), Gomez is “pickin’ out this dress” and “tryin’ on these shoes” ‘cause she’ll be “single soon.” Already is, in fact…whether her erstwhile boyfriend knows it yet or not. And yes, this image of her in her apartment trying on outfits and shoes echoes the level of peak vacuity (call it “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” syndrome) that Carrie also possesses despite being a writer. Indeed, it speaks to a false perception to assume that just because one writes, it means they’re immune to the anti-intellectual trappings of materialism. An especial trap for women, who are conditioned to believe they need “all the things” in order to attract men (and, more often than not, they do). For that’s what being a (straight) woman is all about, right? No matter how many advertising campaigns try to repurpose that indoctrination to attempt reflecting the presently more “kosher” belief that a woman wanting to look good is “just for herself.” Yeah right. 

    Self-love being a key part of Gomez’s brand, particularly as it pertains to mental health, she proceeds to “sit-dance” on the floor, looking endlessly comfortable with both her breakup decision and being alone. Relishing “me time,” as it were. Which gives a girl the chance to engage in what Carrie would deem all the “SSB” (secret single behavior) she wants, without fear of judgment from the gross boy she was once forced to share a space with. As Carrie phrases it in “The Good Fight,” “I miss walking into my apartment with no one there and it’s all quiet and I can do that stuff you do when you’re totally alone. Things you would never want your boyfriend to see you do.” Apparently, that’s what Gomez missed about being single too, as she stares at herself in the mirror and applies lipstick, tries on more “looQues” (including a very “Lavender Haze”-inspired jacket) and then heads out to meet her friends at a restaurant. 

    At first, the meeting feels like a nod to that season four episode, “The Agony and the ‘Ex’-tacy,” where Carrie is cajoled into having a thirty-fifth birthday party at Il Cantinori, despite not wanting to celebrate at all. Although Gomez is initially forced to wait at a giant empty table like the “ultimate” single girl she’s paying tribute to, she doesn’t appear as bummed as Carrie was while glancing around the restaurant to clock other couples/generally happy people as the lyrics, “I’ma date who I wanna/Stay out late if I wanna/I’ma do what I wanna do” play in the background. Plus, it’s easy to be blithe when considering that Gomez isn’t stood up (unlike Carrie) by the three friends who arrive soon after (because, obviously, a quartet of friends is necessary to really drive the SATC point home) to join her for drinks.

    Cheersing to the freedom of singledom, director Philip Andelman then cuts to Gomez and co. in the back of a pimped-out ride (in an image that briefly reminds one of Madonna being in the back of a limo with her own friend group in “Music”). It’s here that Gomez shrugs, “I know I’m a little high/Maintenance, but I’m worth a try/Might not give a reason why (oh well)/We both had a lot of fun/Time to find another one/Blame it all on feelin’ young.” It’s with that last line that Gomez not only negates how she recently said she was “too old” for social media (a sentiment that doesn’t quite jibe with “feelin’ young”), but also what Miley Cyrus ruminates on in “Used to Be Young.” Currently thirty to Gomez’s thirty-one, Cyrus clearly feels more wizened at this point in time to have come out with a track (on the same day, no less) so divergent in theme from Gomez’s, who encourages the notion of being single more than ever despite the fact that women are still told that being in their thirties is the “danger zone” era. Not just for “finding someone,” but for the proverbial biological clock. 

    It’s a clock Gomez, like Lana Del Rey, seems more content to ignore as she goes out to karaoke in the next scene (something Tove Lo also made the central focus of one of her most recent videos, “I Like U”). From there, it’s more scenes in the back of the car, interspersed between sweaty dancing in the club moments and running through alleyways like bats out of hell. At a certain moment, Gomez announces, “I know he’ll be a mess/When I break the news,” but it would be no shock if the guy she dumped cared as little as she did about the end of the “relationship.” Or, in this modern age, situationship. Something Carrie never had to deal with during her so-called more proper epoch of dating. 

    What’s more, Gomez overtly relishes her single girl status far more than Carrie ever did. This being part of why she probably chose Samantha to emulate in her teaser for the song (though some conspiracy theorists will say it was to shade Hailey and Justin Bieber because the dialogue is pulled from the scene of a married man telling Samantha he’s going to leave his wife for her). And as she jumps into an empty pool in the dead of night with her friends, then ends up having them over for a “sleepover” afterward, it’s clear she wants to emphasize Charlotte York’s (Kristin Davis) aphorism, “Maybe we could be each other’s soulmates. And then we could just let men be these great, nice guys to have fun with.”

    With this in mind, “Single Soon” is a logical evolution from “Lose You To Love Me,” and perhaps even more empowered than that because it treats the notion of “love” with far more sociopathy. What Carrie would call “having sex like a man.” Gomez wants to take advantage of that concept and so much more with her single (soon) status. And, although the tone and visuals of the track are decidedly more suited to the Girls narrative that was meant to mirror (emphasis on meant to) Gomez’s millennial generation far more closely than Sex and the City ever did, it’s a testament to the iconography and influence of the latter. No matter how retroactively problematic it keeps becoming as the years go on.

    That doesn’t stop enduring fangirls like Britney Spears from still loving it. And, speaking of Spears, one doesn’t imagine this song playing so well with her own fresh status as a “singleton.” One who has tried her best to shrug off another short-lived marriage with talk of buying a horse. Because that’s the freedom of being single, innit? And yet, if Gomez (incidentally, a guest at the wedding for Spears’ ultimately failed nuptials) were to release this song at Spears’ age, one doesn’t imagine it would come across as “jubilantly.” Reading instead more like the sight of Lexi Featherston trolling for fun at a party filled with “fuckin’ geriatrics.” Herself not admitting that she, too, is now considered one. For, no matter how much time goes by, society has yet to embrace women who are past a “certain age” staying single, yet acting like they’re still in the sowing oats days of their twenties. Even “single girl patron saint” Carrie Bradshaw, with her heinously priggish attitude, was the first to tell Samantha, “It’s time for ladies my age to start covering it up. We can’t get away with the same stuff we used to.” It remains to be seen if Gomez will tend to agree…should she be single ten years from now.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • No Sexual Pun Intended, But And Just Like That… Is Completely Overstuffed (With Characters)

    No Sexual Pun Intended, But And Just Like That… Is Completely Overstuffed (With Characters)

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    Perhaps because it takes a literal army to distract from the reality that Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall) is no longer part of the narrative, And Just Like That… has packed the series full of additional characters. Characters who, to put it sexually, simply cannot be serviced. Not correctly, anyway. From the occasionally-referred-to Stanford (RIP Willie Garson) to the barely regarded Nya (Karen Pittman), the grab bag assembled here makes for plots that come across as half-cooked and decidedly “tacked on” at the last minute. 

    That has never been more overt than in the first part of season two’s deux-part finale, “The Last Supper Part One: Appetizer,” which even has to remember that Steve (David Eigenberg) is still technically a part of the narrative as well. Ergo, opening the episode with Carrie and Aidan visiting him at his new hot dog and clam outpost in Coney Island, where Carrie has, rather unsurprisingly, never ventured out to before.

    Doing its “best” to give everyone a dramatic, “sea change afoot” sort of cliffhanger, the central focus, of course, is still Carrie and Aidan. More to the point, the inevitability of how their relationship will flop this time around. Because obviously it will. That’s the nature of any series. The endless ups and downs until a final up can be offered to audiences when the show is actually over. Though the SATC women (even Cattrall, in her own cameo way) have made it apparent they never want it to be with this “new chapter.” And with the constant addition of characters, God or whoever knows there’s endless room for multiple spinoffs. Even though no one is really that interested in these “externals.” Not just because the writers do little to imbue them with much dimensionality, but because the audience knows full well they’re only there to overcompensate for 1) Samantha rightfully throwing up a peace sign to her friendship with a narcissist like Carrie and 2) provide “reparations” for the original series displaying no diversity despite New York laying claim to being among the most diverse cities in the world (though it comes across as fairly homogenous on the socioeconomic status front, largely due to what television is willing to portray and how much it really does cost to live in “the greatest” city in the world—ha!). 

    That said, we’re forced to pretend we really care about/are invested in the plotlines of Lisa Todd Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker) or Che Diaz (Sara Ramirez) or Seema Patel (Sarita Choudhury) or Nya Wallace. Their mini melodramas occasionally peppered in between the scenes of the usual cringe conversations and plotlines of the original trio. This includes Miranda’s (Cynthia Nixon) catastrophic dabblings with queerdom, Carrie’s self-imposed challenges with Aidan and Charlotte’s (Kristin Davis) realization that her life is essentially being a slave to her husband and children. Which brings us to the fact that, of late, Charlotte, of all people, has become the most interesting and divergent from her original character. Branded as everything from a “cum slut” (after getting depressed that Harry [Evan Handler] suddenly has retrograde ejaculation issues) to a deadbeat mother in her bid to return to being a full-time career woman, Charlotte has turned out to have the most engaging and entertaining journey compared to her “peers.” Not to mention one that has forced her character to at least somewhat challenge herself. A self, she would like to remind her family, that existed (even if presently dormant) long before they ever entered the picture and expected her to be “a certain way.” And then forever stay that way despite also mocking her for having no life outside of them. When she actually decides to go and get one, it’s suddenly too much. They can’t make dinner! They can’t order takeout decorously! They can’t wipe their own asses! They can’t live without her! Never mind the fact that they hated how over-involved she was before. Now it’s all they crave. 

    But because And Just Like That…’s new focus seems to be on the perennial 80s career girl question of whether or not a woman can “have it all” (and according to Samantha in the “All or Nothing” episode of Sex and the City, they can), Charlotte is getting the stereotypical family that “can’t deal” treatment. So, too, is Lisa, slapped with a pregnancy plot “twist” that makes zero sense amid her contempt for her positively filled-with-retro-viewpoints husband, Herbert (Chris Jackson). A man we keep wondering about in terms of how Lisa—a supposedly self-empowered artistic woman—would possibly be able to continue tolerating him. He’s honestly the worst. Apart from Nya’s shitty erstwhile husband, Andre (LeRoy McClain), who ends up impregnating another woman real quick after they agree to separate. In fact, that’s really about all we know of Nya’s “personality,” other than her inherent pastry chef skills after making a chocolate soufflé for herself on Valentine’s Day. And, oh yeah, she’s a professor who we haven’t seen do much teaching since Miranda took her class in season one. Which, again, makes it all very clear that these characters are straight-up filler. Yet they wouldn’t have to be if the series creators/writers didn’t feel obliged to pack the show to the gills with a slew of characters they can’t actually “tend to” (once more, no sexual innuendo intended). 

    Another one being Che, who, since their breakup with Miranda (a relationship that never computed in the first place), has intermittently been incorporated via scenes of them working at the veterinary office they’ve returned to after things in Hollywood didn’t pan out. The writers feel adding a few kernels of their flirtation with Toby (Alex Lugo), who comes into the office with a box of abandoned kittens, will not only suffice, but also give them a reason to want to go back to stand-up again. Even though, as we find out in the episode that follows, this plotline was really in service of Miranda. More to the point, shaming and humiliating Miranda. 

    Then, not to leave the “gay man box” unchecked, there’s still Anthony (Mario Cantone) and, presently, his younger Italian boo, Giuseppe (Sebastiano Pigazzi). For, without them, there wouldn’t be the “why should a man be limited to being a top or bottom when he can be both?” conversation. In truth, just when things feel like they might actually boil over to a moment of real tension, Michael Patrick King chooses to cut away to the next scene, remembering he has to get back to Seema, saddled with the “plot” of embarrassingly telling her “slapdash” man of the moment, Ravi (Armin Amiri), “I love you” in the midst of him chastely fucking her. The scene is given all of twenty seconds before King then moves to yet another minor character we had forgotten about because she pops up so randomly: Lisette Alee (Katerina Tannenbaum). Her presence being “necessary” in order for Carrie to “pass the baton” that is her “single girl apartment” to another single (white) girl. The only genre of human she would feel comfortable relinquishing her abode to. 

    Meanwhile, Miranda and Charlotte’s own lives are starting to become as filled with “subplot characters” as Carrie’s. Shit, even Che has to have a new subset of characters in their life because of their job (this being Judy [Patricia Black], her supervisor at the vet). And so, once again, jobs prove to be everyone’s bane (even in fictional worlds) thanks to creating way too many additional excess sub-sub-characters for the already excess amount of sub-characters. 

    On this note, while Charlotte has gone back to art dealing at the Kasabian Gallery (not a real place, in case you wanted to confirm), Miranda has been “gifted” with the opportunity to go from an intern to replacing her boss, Raina (Evelyn Howe), now on maternity leave. Making Raina, plus Miranda’s jealous coworkers (/enduring interns), “subplot characters” too. When Miranda goes to the UN for some work-related obligation, she also meets another lawyer type and has an exchange that seems completely superfluous unless they’re planning to make this woman Miranda’s next steady vag. This brings us to Charlotte and her new trio of gallery workers wanting to celebrate her big sale of an Alex Israel painting to Sam Smith (himself a new “character” briefly added into the mix, as though in the spirit of SATC cameos of yore, like Lucy Liu…or Geri Halliwell). 

    Lela (Bonnie Milligan), the coworker who made Charlotte feel better about her “fat” stomach (just another way And Just Like That… gets “inclusivity” wrong), manages to coax her into going out for after-work drinks (when Charlotte initially declines) by saying, “Big yikes, girl. You are the main character.” One can only say to themselves in response, “I wish.” Because someone being a main character on this show would require far fewer people to distract from such a concept. 

    Fittingly enough, in the poster for season two, the positioning of each character is so telling of where things stand with the series in terms of all “non-originals” being purely background. Which is exactly how they’re presented in the promo poster. What’s more, if characters keep cropping up at this rate, it’s safe to say the series writers really will need to take financial advantage of the unavoidable spinoff era of And Just Like That… Itself sort of a spinoff more than “a new chapter.” And, like most spinoffs, this one keeps jumping the shark. 

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    Genna Rivieccio

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