SPOILERS AHEAD. Only read if you want to know major plot points from the first two episodes.
Anyone who knows me well knows that Sex and the City, its fashion, its plots, but most notably, its hero, have been central to my development. My bent toward writing made me feel (like the other hundreds of thousands of women out there) like I was “a Carrie,” while the more recent publication We Should All Be Mirandas (a hysterical must-read and great stocking stuffer) left me feeling like there are little bits of each woman in all of us.
So when I heard that the series was being rebooted, I screamed with joy.
I thought I’d write a little something for each installment, which appears to be dropping on Thursdays. There are ten episodes slated to be released, with the first two appearing in our collective HBO queues early yesterday morning.
The short answer is: I love it so far.
Michael Patrick King and the gang wasted no time jumping right in: we perfectly pick up with our girls, as we’ve joined them so many times before, around a table in a restaurant. Notably, one seat is empty (save for a handbag), and they get right to the point: Samantha has moved to London after a falling out with Carrie, when Carrie fired Sam as her publicist. We’re told their communication has been icy – Carrie’s reached out, but hasn’t received a response. It feels like a meta-commentary on the ugly unraveling of SJP and Kim Cattrall’s real life friendship, which Cattrall claims never was a friendship at all. And though it does feel strange not to have our fourth Musketeer around the table, sprinkling obscenities (God knows she would’ve done 10 minutes on Miranda stepping on Brady’s used condom), in other ways, it doesn’t feel so odd. If there was one of the four of them destined to fall away from the pack over time, it was Samantha. It was wise for them to tackle this off the bat. We miss you, Kim, but the show must go on.
And SPOILER ALERT just in case I didn’t scare you off already, for those arguing that Samantha would’ve come to the funeral instead of just sending flowers: remember when Miranda’s mom died, and Samantha had to be dragged kicking and screaming to Philadelphia for the funeral? She goes to stuff like this, but she doesn’t enjoy it. Without the other three to encourage her to do things like this (Miranda’s mom’s funeral, Brady’s baptism, being a bridesmaid in Charlotte’s wedding which she also hated doing), it makes perfect sense to me that she wouldn’t be there. I like that they had her show up in some way, but more on that at the end of this post.
The first episode takes a minute to get its sea legs. Carrie (maybe a character choice, maybe not) feels more subdued; less squeaky and squeal-y and more matter-of-fact. We get shades of the carefree girl we used to know, but her life is a little confusing right now. She’s a wife, a friend, still fabulously dressed, she’s a guest on a podcast (why?), she has a famous Instagram/is an influencer (or something?)? Unclear. Not much writing in her world, it would seem. But even her quips are delivered deadpan, maybe foreshadowing that there’s something coming (which they also serve right up at the end of E1 - no grass growing under this show’s feet). It’s strange, and I’m very interested in whether she’ll perk back up or whether this is kind of…it. She really only seemed her sparkly self when she was with Big and Stanford. Hmm. Maybe this’ll be about her unleashing or rediscovering herself a little bit.
Charlotte is, well…Charlotte. She’s remained pretty much unchanged as the years have rolled by, with the exception of her grown (!!!) children. Loving the pushback Rose is giving her about the prissy fashion, and Lily being a piano star? Well, of course she is. Charlotte is kind of a wreck with a heart of gold. What will this storyline be for her? I betcha there’s some non-binary Rose stuff coming.
Miranda, as always, is serving us layers. One minute she’s the strong, caustic character we’ve grown to love; the next, an insecure white woman navigating a new awareness of racial and cultural identity; the next, a completely unpredictable loose canon with a scorching temper. MPK is giving us hints of what will surely be a storyline related to alcoholism (purse wine at Lily’s recital, downing a bourbon pre-funeral, turning the corner from berating Che with a fresh bourbon in her hand, only to have to meet Che again, stopping into an empty bar before 11 AM to have a drink before class where she also rambled on and on). It’d be an unexplored direction for Miranda, whose whole raison d’être is controlling her surroundings and keeping a tight lid on her life. I’m thrilled to watch Cynthia Nixon, an actress among actresses, sink her teeth into whatever’s coming down the pike.
The new characters! All women of color, which is a deeply needed breath of fresh. Some might argue that their collective casting is a little clunky and obvious (attempting to check a box, a hater might argue), but then again, there simply were no notable characters of color on this show in the past, and that needed to change. Any addition was going to feel a little forced. Thankfully, these characters are in the incredible hands of Nicole Ari Parker (a goddess who I first encountered watching Brown Sugar a million years ago), Karen Pittman (whose amazing work on The Morning Show should have everyone amped), and my BELOVED Sara Ramirez, who was (duh) Callie Torres on (duh) Grey’s Anatomy. These knockouts slip into their roles like a hand in a glove, and I particularly appreciate that Pittman’s first few scenes are serving as the foil to a bumbling Miranda, formerly the most liberal and culturally fluent of the foursome, and now kind of making a damn fool of herself. My first reaction was cautious: it’s a tired trope to have BIPOC serve the roles of “teacher of the ignorant white folks” in any story. However, King has these newbies kick the tires on Miranda, Carrie, and Charlotte, while still being their own people. In these two episodes alone, we found out Che Diaz used to work as a bouncer in a lesbian nightclub, started smoking pot at 13, and is a standup comic with a good sense of humor about the world. Lisa Todd Wexley (LTD to those in the know) is FABULOUSLY chic, married to a high-powered businessman of some sort who’s descended from piano royalty, has a son who’s obsessed with video games, and is the walking, breathing envy of all her peers. And Dr. Nya Wallace is working through fertility issues with her partner in addition to soaring in the world of academia. For my money, that’s a decent amount of backstory to develop on three brand spanking new characters on a show where the four leads are so familiar they might as well be on speed dial. Curious about the opinions of BIPOC fans and how they feel it’s being handled. If this is all the development those characters get, then it won’t be enough. But time will tell.
We get to visit with a greying Mr. Big and a hearing aid-ed Steve, while Harry adorably learned how to skateboard to spend time with his daughter.
And then, of course, tragedy strikes.
Stray observations (a la The AV Club):
Okay, let’s talk about it. I was…not clear that Big was dead. I actually watched that scene three times because the construction was so unbelievably confusing to me. He’s sitting on the ground, Carrie rounds the corner and sees him, and…stands there? They stare at each other? Then has the major reaction and runs toward the shower, knocks him down into the water (my first impulse would be to call 911), sobbing his name until he goes limp in her arms. He was looking at her! Even moving! I was so grateful for the bluntness of the “And just like that, Big died,” because I absolutely wouldn’t have gotten there on my own. He looked limp, in pain, and declining, but he didn’t look like he’d died. Am I alone in this?
The Big masturbating scene was absolutely painful to watch. It was too intimate, too long, and served what purpose??
“Maybe don’t tell her that.” “I already did.” “Okay.” Stanny and Anthony forever.
All the funeral stuff is extra sad knowing that Willie Garrison didn’t make it to the end of filming. Gut-wrenching.
Imagining Kim Cattrall probably feels that Samantha’s sending flowers to Big’s funeral is a little too on-the-nose, as one of the major explosions in the gossip columns was when SJP sent condolences to Cattrall when Cattrall’s brother tragically passed away. Oof.
“I think my soul just left my body,” at the piano recital murdered me.
Miranda, somehow cool with the tons of teenage sex, but freaking out over a little pot. Hmm.
Every delicious shot of an apartment or closets or clothing. Including Miranda wearing the same exact shade of royal blue to the NY Public Library that she wore to Carrie and Big’s ill-fated first wedding attempt I MISS NOTHING. (Even though I know Pat Field isn’t working on this, little homages to her pop up everywhere.)
We’re acknowledging the pandemic and we’re also…not.
So I guess we’re gonna be seeing Big’s secretary again, huh? ‘Cause that was…really something.
Sara Ramirez is brilliant as hell.
Continuing the musical score from the first movie = noted and wonderful.
The day when I casually resign myself to my high-school aged children having loud sex in my house is the day you can call the guys with the dollies and white coats because JUST COMMIT ME. No fuckin’ way, yo. (Pun intended, this is a SATC recap, after all!). And frankly, I don’t need to see 17 year olds having raunchy sex on my TV! Thanks though!
The moment of catharsis Carrie has screaming at Charlotte in the hallway? That’s real friendship.
“What’s with the white designer hoodie on the old coot neighbor?”
