And just like that, I cried. I knew Big's death was coming, because it's all anyone who's watched And Just Like That (the Sex and the City reboot) has been talking about. It's been discussed on social media and media generally. He died of a heart attack after training on a Peloton machine, Peloton got involved and then uninvolved, and then the entire issue died once Chris Noth who plays Mr. Big ended up in real trouble with women who have claimed he sexually assaulted them years ago. But it is a testament to both Chris Noth and Sarah Jessica Parker (who plays Carrie) that they could enact such a moving scene--Carrie coming home to find her husband close to death. It follows earlier sequences that show Carrie and Big interacting at home, making dinner together, listening to music--Todd Rundren's Hello It's Me, Big singing along to the song, and both acting lovingly toward each other. They were finally happy, enjoying married life, doing the things that happily-married couples do. That's why the scene where she finds him slumped on the floor was so emotional and raw, it was preceded by happiness of a special kind, the kind of happiness that was the reward for years of pain and waiting. Carrie waited a long time for Big to acknowledge that he loved her.
The reboot itself has been painstakingly dissected and either praised or panned. I've watched three episodes so far, and the first one was by far the most moving. I'm sure there's a lot to criticize but I'm not in the mood to do so. I'm in the mood to praise the series for what it gets right, because there are certainly things it doesn't get right. But the woke reviewers who demand complete social and racial awareness/relevance in every episode need to remember one thing--this show was always a fantasy show for many people. It wasn't meant to be a 'deep' or relevant show. I know many people who didn't like the show because it was not a real depiction of the lives of single women in Manhattan. The original show was about four friends living in Manhattan who worked, made decent livings, but who always had more than enough money for clothing, shoes, eating out, wine, expensive vacations, and whatnot. I don't think I ever heard any of them say they couldn't afford something. They dated men and talked about the men they dated and the sex they had; they married and divorced and then married again. There was never a dearth of male suitors waiting in the wings for these women. That's not reality for a lot of women. But a focus on reality wasn't what viewers required; I loved the show because it showed how four women remained friends through thick and thin, who were pretty much always there for each other. Men came and went, but the friendships survived. That was what was truly real about the show; when you have women friends like these four had, you know you are blessed. The Sex and the City films were a bit over the top, especially the second one. But I challenge you to prove to me that any of the adventure/crime thriller/drama films starring our reigning male heroes (Bruce Willis, Brad Pitt, Dwayne Johnson, Tom Cruise, Daniel Craig, to name a few) are films that depict real-life. Get over it. They're fantasy films, pure and simple. We accept them as entertainment, knowing that most men will not be hanging off planes trying to save humanity, or jumping off buildings, or surviving being shot at by automatic weapons. We don't require these films to be 'real' and woke. These films are rather silly as well, yet we accept them. It's in that spirit that I watched the original Sex and the City series. I enjoyed the escapist fantasies of the lives these women led.
The series was criticized for portraying independent single women whose lives revolved around having men in them. But the show never pandered to those who thought it should be about women who didn't need men at all. Because the reality of life for most women is that their lives often do revolve around men in one way or another. And many women make foolish choices when it comes to men; many make stupid mistakes as well (sleeping with men too soon, that sort of thing). When they're older, they may look back and regret that they did both, but the fact remains that these choices and mistakes are part of their past, part of who they are. They learned from them and moved on. We cannot require perfect women, any more than we can require perfect men. There is no perfect world. What does exist is forgiveness, of others and of ourselves.
And that leads me to the few things that the series could omit. Some of them are the cringe-inducing scenes where Miranda (played by Cynthia Nixon) tries to show that she's not a racist. She's trying too hard, and that is rather out of character for Miranda, who always seemed to be the sensible one before. So far these are the only scenes that I've wanted to fast-forward. But I haven't, because I'm giving the series a chance and trying to understand why they're included at all. Why can't there just be important black characters without all the hoopla, as was the case in the first Sex and the City film (Carrie's assistant Louise, played by Jennifer Hudson)? There's no need to try so hard to make it all so relevant; just introduce the characters naturally and it will be fine.
And now I've seen all ten episodes. All I can say is that the show dragged me back into their messy lives again and I'm better for it. Watching it was cathartic in some ways. Perhaps you need to have lost a loved one to death in order to relate to it on some level. I don't know if there will be a season 2. Even if there isn't, season 1 did a bang-up job of reintroducing us to Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte. There are critics who wrote that the show was too sad, too flat, lacking fun, and lacking sex. I disagree. I'm not sure what those reviewers wanted, but Big was a huge part of Carrie's life, and to make a new show that honors the death of a loved one, grieving and trying to find meaning in life again needs to be applauded, not panned. But I think it's because you either like the show and the characters, or you don't. I happen to be one of those who loved the original show and the first movie (not the second). The reboot deals with the lives of these characters who are now in their 50s, with all that entails--menopause, teenage children, sexless marriages, happy marriages, childless marriages, not being on the same page, new friends, old friends, and just change that is part of life. Change plays a big role in the reboot, not surprisingly. Miranda changes (divorces Steve and falls in love with a queer nonbinary stand-up comedian and podcast host), Charlotte's life changes (her daughter Rose changes her name to Rock and does not want to be labeled a girl, a boy, a nonbinary, Jewish, or a New Yorker), and Carrie's life changes (Big dies and the rug is pulled out from under her). The show would have been roundly criticized if Carrie had just bounced back from Big's death and went out dancing a month later. Real life isn't like that. It takes her a year to grieve, and the last episode ends with her taking his ashes to Paris to spread them in the river Seine from the Pont des Arts bridge where he found her at the end of the original series. I wish Big could have made a final appearance but that was not to be. I think Sarah Jessica Parker did a great job with a tough storyline for Carrie. She made it real, emotional, raw, and heartbreaking at times. Just like real life. Perhaps the objections of the reviewers lie there. This time around the show was more like real-life. I want more of that, and they want less of it. That's fine, we can agree to disagree.
