It’s easy to let Miranda taking Rosie O’Donnell’s virginity distract us from the real issues, but why does “And Just Like That” look like a Zyrtec commercial? Side effects may include zany plotlines, apparently.
The world of Carrie Bradshaw was once a comfortable escape of film grain and sultry jazz. It was an oasis like no other, shiny and sleek, with the inherent warmth of a longtime friend in a world full of possibility.
That’s no more. Under the bright, all-encompassing lights of And Just Like That, the beautiful facade of Sex and the City has come undone, revealing a harsh, shallow world that transforms New York City into a hollow set.
The lights are bright, the music is cartoony, and the magical mystique has been replaced with a cold, transparent aura of big hats and even bigger comedy cues. And I couldn’t help but wonder… is that the real issue with And Just Like That?
Sex and the City lulled audiences into a romantic lullaby, one of hope, desperation, and excitement. It’s the quintessential series to watch late at night, as it washes away existential fears with a reminder that life—more often than not—is inherently beautiful. It’s comfort food that never feels like junk, with scenes like the Season 3 premiere voyage to Staten Island mesmerizing audiences with a discofied glow. It was gritty, and that’s what made it alluring.
When did the decadent display of shadows and groovy jazz get replaced by an overexposed Wayfair set and slapstick beats, declassing the world to that of a Disney Channel Original Movie?
In the world of And Just Like That, everybody’s backlit and everything is beautiful, but it’s all too flat to matter. At any moment, the Carrie narration that once tucked viewers in could be replaced with a voice-over warning “side effects may include…”.
Say what you want about the jarring plots of And Just Like That, but none of it would matter if the show simply looked good (see: fellow HBO sister, The Gilded Age).
Wouldn’t Miranda’s sexual exploration be less second-hand embarrassing if a witty, tongue-in-cheek backing track guided audiences through it? Wouldn’t Charlotte feel less like a one-dimensional Disney Channel mom if every “Aw, shucks! My kids sure do give me trouble” moment weren’t followed by music more at home in a multi-cam sitcom?
Look, even Carrie falling and not getting up could’ve been funny had it not landed like a Life Alert commercial.
Aesthetics are everything. Sex and the City is synonymous with style, as effortlessly chic in diner scenes as the high-budget Paris finale. The show was self-assured in all moments, backed by a score that blended so well it was easy to take for granted.
Sex and the City never talked down to audiences, making us feel as equally sexy and authentic as the women and world we excitedly tuned into. There’s a reason people often classify New York as the fifth character of the show. And what is “New York” in this sense but a gorgeously shot, well-composed amalgamation of glorious hope?
It’s that zsa-zsa-zsu Carrie once spoke of. You’ve either got it or you don’t.
Whether Miranda’s taking Rosie O’Donnell’s virginity in a soulless hotel room or Carrie’s trafficking adderall across state lines, And Just Like That sells itself on soap-opera lighting and elevator music, giving every story the look and feel of Temu Sex and the City. Every kitchen is an Ikea showroom. Every set is immaculate, neither lived-in nor thought through.
Don’t even get me started on those fluorescent lights in Carrie’s McMansion. She may love a questionable hat, but my Carrie would never be caught dead with those CVS bulbs.
The wardrobe budget is bigger and the set pieces more ambitious, yet And Just Like That looks and feels sterile as can be. The characters galavant through a sweat-less world of ring lights and perfectly placed KFC buckets, never a hair out of place, nor a dress cheaper than $5,000. And just like that, the illustrious world of Sex and the City is unrecognizable.
Maybe shooting on film has become gauche. Maybe subtle scores are too much work. Maybe it’s easier to cosplay Sex and the City without an iota of that charisma, but it sure would be nice to watch a show that looks more like that wonderful world than a Zyrtec commercial.
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