How Identity Politics Brought ‘And Just Like That…’ to a Close
Jordan Collins here. Fine, I’ll lay this out for you, just try to follow along.
And Just Like That… has bowed out after season 3, as announced by series creator Michael Patrick King, who revealed on social media that he and Sarah Jessica Parker held off labeling this the final run so viewers could enjoy the episodes without the finality looming over them. King’s note read that he and Parker delayed the bad news to allow viewers to savor the final chapter, but the series struggled with low ratings and lukewarm social media buzz throughout this run. Unfortunately, most fans found little to enjoy. Somewhere Kim Cattrall is surely chuckling at how HBO managed to kill the golden goose.
You might have caught Mario Cantone’s Anthony Marentino grumbling in episode seven, “Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse.” His gripe was about a karaoke number gone sideways, but it felt more like a meta commentary on the entire reboot. Week after week, viewership dipped and critical goodwill evaporated as audiences realized that tacking woke checkboxes onto a once-aspirational franchise was a losing proposition.
The first two seasons leaned hard into diversity mandates championed by Cynthia Nixon, who famously demanded more representation after the 90s original neglected nonwhite voices. The revival hit pause on the sisterhood at the heart of the series to honor every facet of identity politics. Mr. Big’s dramatic departure, Miranda Hobbes’s (Cynthia Nixon) sudden coming-out moment, the addition of two nonbinary characters, and a host of new racial backgrounds felt more like obligation than organic storytelling. Critics quickly labeled it “checkbox TV” instead of the must-see appointment television fans once adored.
Season 3 dialed back the overt identity focus but laid bare how thin the narrative engine had become. Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) locked horns with a Ron Chernow–style biographer neighbor over manuscript swaps and highbrow literary debates. Charlotte York wrestled with her husband’s cancer diagnosis, Seema Patel lost her chauffeured ride in a real estate fiasco courtesy of Ryan Serhant, and Lisa Todd Wexley flirted with a co-worker in a subplot that never quite paid off. Miranda’s romance with a closeted nun played by Rosie O’Donnell felt artificially inserted, while her recurring nude scenes served more as shock value than character development.
Fashion, once the series’ crowning glory under Patricia Field’s expert hand, devolved into a parade of Instagram-ready costumes that no one in New York would actually wear. Gone were the eclectic pairings that made Manolo Blahniks and Fendi Baguettes household names. Instead, reboot Carrie strutted through Central Park in oversized prairie dresses and comically large bonnets, while Charlotte and Lisa resembled life-size mannequins, even during school drop-off. Critics pounced on every sartorial misstep.
The original Sex and the City thrived on a Cosmo-soaked fantasy where friendships were unbreakable, sex was adventurous, and optimism was contagious. By contrast, this final season of And Just Like That… traded hope for homework, turning a chic escapade into a tedious checklist exercise. The sex appeal drained away, the laughter faded, and the city’s magic vanished in a puff of woke smoke. Well, now you finally understand!
Sources: Celebrity Storm and New York Post
Attribution: Craig Blankenhorn (Creative Commons)
