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.
