Sex and the City (TV Program)

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      ‘And Just Like That’ Recap, Episode 7: Back on the Scene

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      This week’s episode was a treat for anyone who’s been waiting for the “Sex and the City” revival to feel more like “Sex and the City.”Episode 7Maybe it was just a matter of waiting for a series to hit its stride, or maybe it was the magic of the Carrie necklace, but for anyone who’s been hoping that “And Just Like That …” would feel more like “Sex and the City,” this was your week.In the opening scene of this week’s episode, we find our leading lady, as we’ve seen her so many times before, perched in the window of her walk-up apartment, writing in the glow of her MacBook, a flicker of Y2K Carrie. Days and nights pass, and seasons change, letting us know that a chunk of time has gone by. That fast-forward proves vital because it needs to feel appropriate for Carrie to start dating again — so she can both sell her new book and liven up this show.All that typing has led to “Loved & Lost,” Carrie’s latest memoir, which delves into the death of Big. If that sounds dark and sad, it is, which is the exact issue her editor, Amanda (Ashlie Atkinson), has with the story.“You’re known for writing ‘Sex and the City!’” Amanda tells Carrie, “If we publish this as is, I’m worried your readers are going to pitch themselves out the window clutching their tubs of Häagen-Dazs.” What the story needs, Amanda says, is a “glimmer of hope” that joy is still out there for Carrie.Maybe it’s a coincidence, but it’s a direct parallel to what has been happening with the series. Carrie Bradshaw the writer has an audience, a legacy to uphold. So does Carrie Bradshaw the TV character. Both have longtime fans who expect a certain thing: a fun, pun-filled gal about town whom we can live and love vicariously through.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.Reasonable people could argue that we, the viewing public, just like they, the fictional reading public, need to let Carrie move on and stop demanding that she show up exactly how she used to. But we haven’t been very good at that. The internet has let out a collective sigh that “And Just Like That …” doesn’t have quite the same magic as “Sex and the City,” in part because all of the formerly charismatic single characters are either married off, mourning or masturbating their way through sexual frustration.The antidote to that — for the book and for the series — is some good old-fashioned dating. Amanda tells Carrie to go out with at least one guy so she can whip up an epilogue that gives the whole story a little lift. So she does, and in doing so, we get that lift on our TV screens as well.Seema, who is now occupying Samantha’s chair at the four-top, took it upon herself to sign Carrie up for some dating apps, and late at night, Carrie finds herself swiping. Eventually, she settles on a widower, Peter (Jon Tenney), and later, as they sit down to dinner, they figure out that this is the first date for each of them since their spouses passed. Carrie and Peter order drinks, and the next thing we know, they’re spilling out of the restaurant in a fit of giggles, almost stumbling over each other until they both puke their guts out at the curb.It’s absurd, and not really believable, but it’s fun, and it’s fodder for cocktail talk at Charlotte’s school fund-raiser, where the whole gang (except Steve — we’ll get to him in a minute) gathers to support their friend. Among the items up for grabs at a high-priced auction: a date with a beloved sex columnist, Carrie.The event is M.C.’ed by Herbert and Lisa, whom Charlotte is trying endlessly to impress. Earlier in the episode, she and Harry played tennis with them, and it got so competitive that Charlotte knocked Harry onto the ground in an attempt to win the game, leading to an utterly ridiculous but entirely realistic argument afterward. (Charlotte and Harry win the match, for what it’s worth, but they also kind of lose it when Herbert and Lisa catch them fighting.) As any good marriage counselor will tell you, fights among longtime couples are rarely about the things that initiated them — this one seems to be more about mansplaining, insecurity and society’s expectation that women always apologize.It is also the exact scene we needed to ground Charlotte and Harry’s relationship in anything like reality — we’ve barely seen them look at each other sideways since they walked down the aisle, let alone have an actual spat. Charlotte got so hot, she even dropped an F bomb, something we rarely (if ever?) see her do. I feel more connected to her character now than I have in years.But there is other behind-the-scenes drama at the fund-raiser. Months have gone by since Miranda’s tryst with Che, and her DM to Che has gone unanswered. Inexplicably, Carrie forgot to mention that Che would be performing at the event, so when Che bounds onstage, Miranda is caught off guard. She had tried in an early scene to revive her physical chemistry with Steve, but it collapsed into anxieties over lube and leftovers. (She apparently has a thing for sex in kitchens.) As she later told Carrie, she feels doomed to live like a sexual zombie for the rest of her life.That is, until she runs into Che again. She had all but given up on Che, but now she can’t resist the urge to reconnect. She is at the party stag, so there’s opportunity. Steve’s absence goes unaddressed — it seems as if the two simply don’t hang out often.Miranda tries to be stoic, feigning apathy that Che didn’t return her message — or, apparently, her feelings — but all that falls apart when Che proposes that they spend the night together. The two fall right into bed, and Miranda seems not to give Steve a second thought.“I’m in love with you,” Miranda tells Che as she bathes in the afterglow. “You’re in love with you, with me,” Che replies.That might be true. It also might be an incredibly kind way for Che to let Miranda know that she shouldn’t walk away from her marriage to pursue some happily ever after with Che — because Che doesn’t really do that whole scene.We’ll see. In any case, it’s hard to imagine seeing Miranda resign herself once again to her living-dead marriage.As for Carrie, there’s a sign of life. Peter shows up to the school benefit as well (apparently this party is the place to be in New York!) and ends up placing the winning bid on another date with Carrie.To be honest, I don’t really see it with Carrie and Peter — at least not yet. He reminds me of the “good on paper” guy Carrie dated years ago in the Hamptons, whom she wasn’t really into. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for Carrie’s finding love again, but before she moves on for good, I would first like to know whether Aidan is still married. I’m guessing many of you do, too.Things I Can’t Stop Thinking About:Are we even rooting for Nya to have a baby? Because it doesn’t seem like that’s what she really wants. Which is fine! Neither did Samantha or Carrie or even Miranda, at first. At this point, she seems to be pursuing a pregnancy mostly to make her kind and devoted husband happy, but it’s 2022, and we all know that’s simply not a good enough reason.Seeing Steve kindly and considerately wash his hands in the kitchen before the act touched my heart and made me preemptively sad for him that he’s probably about to lose it all.Of course no one is going to bid on a date (even a lunch date) with anybody (let alone a “sex writer”) at a private-school fund-raiser attended by a slew of Gen X parents. Why did Carrie agree to this?OK Che, we get it, you smoke a lot of weed. You smoke so much weed you can’t keep your DMs straight. You smoke so much weed that it’s step one in your sex routine. We hear you. You smoke a lot of weed. More

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      Middle Age Doesn’t Happen ‘Just Like That’

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      Why is the “Sex and the City” reboot populated by adults who seem perplexed by everything from politics to their own bodies?Have you heard? There’s a TV show featuring 50-somethings on HBO, right now. “And Just Like That,” the reboot of “Sex and the City,” has resurrected the old gang (Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte — minus Samantha) in present-day New York City, 17 years after the last episode aired. Yes, it turns out that people — even women-people — can actually keep existing beyond the age of 38. Incredible!Or at least that appears to be the perspective of AJLT, which depicts a world of middle-aged characters suspended in perpetual astonishment and discomfort about everything they encounter, from commonplace political and social phenomena to their own bodies. (Warning: spoilers ahead.)“It’s as if its characters must have been asleep for 20 years and awakened utterly gob-smacked to find themselves encountering such things as Black professors, nonbinary children and queer longings,” said Joy Castro, 54, a writer and professor of English and ethnic studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.The characters do seem Rip Van Winkle-like, as they stumble upon and blink in amazement at very unsurprising things. “Wow! Instagram? Podcasts?” marvels Miranda at some of Carrie’s latest endeavors, as if these were edgy new enterprises.Some of the “Van Winkle-iest” moments involve Miranda’s foot-in-mouth disease when interacting with Nya Wallace, the Black professor in her new human rights law graduate program. Charlotte, too, evinces a weird awkwardness as she cultivates a new friendship with the glamorous Lisa Todd Wexley, a wealthy, stylish Black woman she meets through her daughters’ private school.Sarah Jessica Parker as a podcasting Carrie Bradshaw.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO Max“The show now is trying to be woke without succeeding,” said Cheryl Packwood, 60, an attorney and retired diplomat. “I never liked the show to begin with; it was just so white and shallow. It’s not at 55 that you suddenly try so hard to have a Black friend.”But beyond the external factors of race and politics, the protagonists seem most ill at ease with their own bodies and ages, which they refer to frequently, unnaturally and, often, loudly.Examples abound:Over brunch, a discussion about Miranda’s decision to go gray devolves into a barbed exchange about the ethics of hair color. For Miranda, Carrie’s trademark blond highlights pass muster since they are “obvious” — clearly artificial, hence not trying to deceive anyone. But Charlotte’s preference to maintain a more natural brown does not meet Miranda’s ethical standards.Charlotte is “trying to pass” as younger, says Miranda with disapproval. “There are more important issues in the world than trying to look young,” she scolds. Women do talk about hair and aging, but they generally do not turn salon choices into grounds for moral condemnation over omelets.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.Stuck waiting in a long ladies’ room line in a theater, Miranda blurts out loudly before a crowd: “I’m 55 and I have to pee,” before heading to the (empty) men’s room. Props to her for feeling free enough to step out of the ladies’ room line. But no midlife people I know think about and announce their own ages like this, as if they’d only just learned how old they were.Miranda Hobbes, right, mid-awkward encounter with her professor, Nya Wallace.Craig Blankenhorn / HBO MaxThe display of age-shock often feels cheap and a little undignified. In another bathroom scene, Charlotte’s husband, Harry, stands at the commode, urinating for an inordinately long (and loud) interlude. When Charlotte expresses dismay, Harry extols his urological health, invoking his own advanced years: “A lotta men my age can’t pull off a stream like this.” We are further reminded of Harry’s age (and excretory systems) when Charlotte loudly books his colonoscopy appointment over her cellphone — in a cafe, and mentions it several more times later.It’s true that people over 50 get colonoscopies, and you could even mine this for some meaningful comedy or human drama. But merely name-checking “colonoscopy” as if it were itself a punchline turns it into another item on a laundry list of clichéd “middle-aged woes.”Continuing the potty humor, after Carrie’s hip surgery (which offers occasion for much more “old lady” and “senior citizen” commentary), an extended sequence involves Charlotte awkwardly maneuvering her on and off a hospital toilet and monitoring Carrie’s urine flow.That scene cuts directly to a discussion between Miranda and her new love interest, the nonbinary Che (Carrie’s podcast boss) about the latter’s diverticulosis. (Even Che, hipper and a decade younger than the others, is not exempted from plumbing problems.)Rather than illuminate the texture and richness of midlife, AJLT seems intent upon merely pointing at it from a noncomprehending, slightly mocking distance. And for a show that built its reputation on the frank discussion of physical taboos, why is there no mention of the universal challenges of menopause — or its male counterpart, andropause?Sarah Jessica Parker and Cynthia Nixon.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO MaxOne of the highlights of SATC was the characters’ longstanding friendship, their deep bonds and history. This could easily provide a wealth of material for the remake, and at times it does — as in scenes where Miranda lovingly comforts a grief-stricken Carrie.At other times, though, the peculiar “age-othering” impedes more natural exchanges. When Miranda spots Carrie seated outdoors on the Columbia campus, for example, she calls out: “I see you! You’re the only 55-year-old on the university steps!” — an odd, age-fetishizing way to describe your best friend of decades. (Also, universities have plenty of older people.)When Harry greets Miranda’s husband Steve with “What’s new?” the once-boyish and playful bartender, now sort of blank and inexpressive, can only come up with: “I got hearing aids. I’m an old timer now.” Miranda then helpfully chimes in with specific medical details.Old friends do not greet each other like this. And while middle-aged men often experience hearing loss, they tend not to announce this fact before saying “hello” or to define themselves with this physical ailment.Overall, such interactions offer a cartoonish view of middle-age, which pushes it all the way to old age (and a stereotypical view of that as well). “The show depicts 50-something people as if they were actually old already, not middle-aged,” said Jamy Buchanan Madeja, 60, an environmental law practitioner and adjunct professor at Northeastern University School of Law.The series does try to grapple with the many issues of getting older: loss, death, strained marriages, changing sexual appetites and an unease with new social mores. This aspect of AJLT can be highly relatable: “I do identify with the questioning around what you need from a long-term relationship,” said Jennifer Brinkman, chief of staff to the mayor of Lincoln, Neb. “I myself am going through a divorce at age 50.”And, she added: “I have definitely experienced awkward moments, like those of Miranda and Charlotte, that reveal how I don’t have the ease of language my children and co-workers have related to our society’s evolving gender and sexuality spectrum. But I want to!”From left, Cathy Ang, Kristin Davis and Alexa Swinton. Charlotte Goldenblatt is navigating her child’s gender identity issues in the SATC reboot.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO Max, via Associated PressYet so much more could be done with this group of older best friends and their beloved hometown. “Sex and the City” resonated with audiences because, whatever its flaws, it valued and found delectation in women’s adventurous spirit — whether channeled into the thrills of love and sex, friendship, fashion and beauty, or the sheer pleasure of New York City itself. AJLT could easily find age-adapted equivalents of these for the group to enjoy.There are real benefits that attend this stage of life: enhanced self-confidence; knowing your own mind; the soul-nourishing connection and, yes, uproarious fun and laughter to be found in relationships (with friends, lovers, family) that have deepened with time. Midlife can also be prime years for professional success and achievement.But in the first several episodes, AJLT shows vanishingly few of these perks, focusing instead on the characters’ decline, confusion and cultural estrangement. And very little seems to remain of any of the group’s careers.What’s more, for all the focus on growing physically old, the show’s protagonists often behave with curious immaturity. Many viewers have been perplexed, for example, by Carrie’s reaction upon discovering Big slumped over, but still conscious, after his heart attack. Rather than call the paramedics or fetch his medication, Carrie falls to the floor, half-smothering Big with her hair.As Ms. Castro said: “If one finds one’s husband collapsed but still alive, does one not call 911 immediately? Carrie’s behavior was so baffling to me.” Baffling, and weirdly passive and ineffectual — almost like a child’s. Charlotte, too, seems less than adult, crying so theatrically while helping plan Big’s funeral that Carrie sends her home in a taxi.“One still hopes, even on television, that women with a certain influence would be playing a more powerful role in their own circumstances. I can’t imagine the same stagnation for men,” said Hollis Robbins, 58, the dean of arts and humanities at Sonoma State University.Sara Ramirez, as Che, and Cynthia Nixon.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO MaxAnd why does Miranda choose to launch her new erotic relationship with Che — orgasming at the top of her lungs — in Carrie’s kitchen, with Carrie in the next room? Isn’t loud, thoughtless sex within earshot of others precisely what her teen son Brady is guilty of? (And what about Miranda’s historic disapproval of adultery, back when husband Steve was the offending party?) It all feels discordantly adolescent.Stagnation in time is actually a core problem in AJLT. When Carrie finds herself too upset to stay in her empty home after Big’s death, she decamps to her former apartment, which she leaves the next morning dressed in something likely unearthed in her old closet: a floor-length white tulle tutu. Devotees of SATC will find this skirt familiar — it resembles very closely the one Carrie wore in the original SATC series finale, when Big follows her to Paris to commit to her, finally.A big, poofy white tutu is the antithesis of widow’s weeds. It visually resituates our heroine back in her glory days. (She wore a shorter white tutu in the original show’s opening credits.) We understand why Carrie might want to wear it now, as a sartorial antidote to the loss of Big. At the same time, though, the tutu looks a bit “off” on her — age-inappropriate and out of fashion. We see people staring at it on the street.Carrie Bradshaw is back in a tutu.Craig Blankenhorn/HBO MaxIt feels as though the show’s creators are still grasping for ways to develop their now-older characters in believable, interesting ways — to “dress” them appropriately for their time and place. And so, like Carrie in her throwback tutu, they wind up reminding us all too starkly of the passage of time, in an incongruous, off-kilter way.Given that the last images we have of this gang date back to 2004, rediscovering them after 17 years would always have brought an initial pang of rueful surprise. It’s natural to feel a little startled or uncomfortable running into a friend you haven’t seen in decades.But it is not natural to feel this kind of shock or discomfort about oneself, one’s environment and the people one sees every day — and to keep feeling it over and over. Because there is nothing shocking about being over 50, or being any age really, since one has necessarily already passed through all the preceding ages. Aging is just another word for “living,” after all — and we all do it in tiny increments, day by day. If only the characters in AJLT were given the same possibility. More

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      ‘And Just Like That’ Recap, Episode 4: New Friends

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      Charlotte wants to change L.T.W. from a mom friend into a real friend. Carrie and Miranda nurture new connections.If Miranda was the white lady buffoon in Episode 1, it is Charlotte’s turn in Episode 4.Despite being a classic “‘Rules’ girl” and a master of playing hard-to-get (“I invented that game,” she once declared in the original “Sex and the City”), all that self-discipline Charlotte once reserved to pique men’s interest goes out the window when Lisa Todd Wexley says she is free for dinner on Thursday night — just two days away. Charlotte drops everything, even canceling Harry’s colonoscopy for the next morning, to throw an impromptu dinner party at her house.(Can’t Harry just book his own colonoscopy?)Charlotte desperately wants to morph L.T.W. from a mom friend into a real friend — a distinction actual moms, like me, will relate to. But it occurs to Charlotte that at the soiree she’s about to host, L.T.W. and her husband, Herbert (Christopher Jackson), will be the only Black people in attendance.Horrified that it will appear as if she and Harry have no Black friends (they don’t), she makes it her mission to recruit at least one fringe friend of color to invite. Just as she gets a bite from a fellow P.T.O. mom, L.T.W. abruptly backs out.But she and Harry still attend Herbert’s birthday party at L.T.W.’s house, and in a twist, they’re the sole white couple there. Charlotte has come prepared, having forced a cram session about contemporary Black authors on herself and Harry. It’s all for naught, though, when Charlotte walks in and immediately mistakes one of L.T.W.’s guests for a different Black woman they both know.It turns out, however, that Charlotte didn’t really need to study. When Herbert’s mother, Eunice Wexley (Pat Bowie), takes jabs at the seemingly frivolous art collection L.T.W. has amassed, Charlotte defends her, calling out the notable Black artists by name and talking up the importance of each work hanging on the wall — to the delight of L.T.W., who relishes taking her mother-in-law down a peg.Somewhere during these awkward scenes, Charlotte remembers who she is. She’s far more than the demure wife and mom she has been made out to be since she quit gallery life in the original “Sex and the City.” She’s highly educated and cultured, and she knows art impressively well. All she really had to do at that dinner party was be herself.I hope to see more of this multidimensional version of Charlotte as the series progresses, especially because she hasn’t been given a substantive story line since her struggles with infertility — a topic that comes up over dinner between Miranda and her law professor, Nya.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.Amid the bustle of a hip, crowded restaurant, Nya surprises herself (“Maybe it’s the hormones,” she quips) by telling Miranda that she’s undergoing her second round of in vitro fertilization, but that’s not her biggest revelation. She also says that when her first attempt failed, she felt a deep sense of relief. It’s a fair assumption that anyone going through the effort of fertility treatments must very much want a baby, but Nya isn’t so sure. She likes her life as it is and asks Miranda to confirm that motherhood is worth it. Miranda can’t quite make that promise.What unfolds between them is one of the more astute conversations about the plight of modern womanhood that I’ve seen on TV, maybe ever. Pushing beyond the trite topic of whether working mothers can “have it all,” the two characters grapple with the hard truth that no matter what kind of life is chosen, there are always roads not taken, and probably some level of regret. Reaching the pinnacle of your career doesn’t erase that, nor does having children. Despite coming from two rather different worlds, Miranda and Nya connect on this, and they move from acquaintances to confidantes.All the while, Carrie (whose real name is apparently Caroline! Who knew?) is wrapped up in selling the apartment she shared with Big. She taps the hotshot real-estate agent Seema Patel (Sarita Choudhury) who waltzes in and immediately replaces the colorful character Carrie has woven into the home’s décor with boring beige. Seema must erase anything that feels too much like the current owners, she explains, so that buyers can see themselves in the space.“It’s like we never lived here. Our life is just … gone.” Carrie tells Miranda over the phone, dejected.Oddly, that’s exactly why Carrie feels good when she’s around Seema. Seema never knew Big, so Carrie can tuck away the sad stuff when she is with her and simply enjoy the moment.That is until Seema accidentally breaks the frame that holds an old photo of Carrie and Big.Seema is ready to replace it, not thinking the broken glass is much of an issue, but Carrie is heartbroken. That frame was on Big’s side of the bed, she explains. He touched that glass over and over, and now one of the final connections she had to her late husband is in pieces.Seema sees she’s being insensitive, but in a slightly contrived fit of whataboutism, she brings up a recent moment when she felt Carrie had done the same. When Carrie commended Seema for “still putting herself out there” in the dating world, it stung. Seema has never really found love, and Carrie unwittingly rubbed that in. What’s more, Seema doesn’t feel all that bad for Carrie, she says, because at least Big was the love of her life, and she had him for years.Carrie is taken aback. Is Seema right? Is it actually better to have loved and lost?In a sense, we could all be asking ourselves the same question about Big.In recent days, two women have accused Chris Noth of sexual assault, as detailed by The Hollywood Reporter. Noth, who was enjoying some reupped fame from this reboot, as well as a viral Peleton ad — itself a response to some ill-advised product placement in Episode 1 and since taken down — has denied the accusations.I was never a fan of Mr. Big. Maybe he conjured up too many personal ghosts, and I wanted Carrie to see through that kind of whiplash-inducing lover faster than I had. Plenty of viewers adored his mystique, and if you were in that camp, or you at least loved the love they shared, that’s almost certainly tainted — it’s nearly impossible now to separate Big’s sleazier tendencies from this troubling new context.As for me, I thought Big deserved the boot long ago. I’m not sorry I don’t have to see his face, or Noth’s, on my screen anymore.Carrie may never see things that way, though, so a new beginning with new people may be just what she needs. As she and Seema exchange apologies and dig into takeout sushi, the agent-client relationship begins to dissipate and a genuine friendship starts to blossom.In case it isn’t abundantly clear, that’s the theme of this episode: Each main character advances her friendship with her new pal (over dinner, in each case, to really tie it all together). The producers promised these new characters would be layered and do more than simply serve as window dressing for the returning leads. This episode seems to be a bridge to those new story lines that will, I hope, continue to deepen.The show must go on without one more of its recurring characters, though, and that is Stanford, because the actor Willie Garson died in September while the series was filming. The disappearance of Carrie’s steadfast friend is accounted for when she opens a melodramatic letter from him explaining that he has jaunted off to Japan on tour with the TikTok cash cow he manages. Anthony got a letter as well, except in his, Stanford asks for a divorce.Stanford always had a catty side, which was one of his more endearing traits, but it is hard to imagine he would have Dear John’d both Carrie and Anthony in such a hardhearted way. Perhaps the writers didn’t want us dwelling in sadness over the loss of Garson, but it’s hard not to feel like we never knew Stanford at all. The Stanny we knew would have at least wanted to share one last cigarette with Carrie.Oh yeah, she’s smoking again. More

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      Chris Noth Peloton Ad Pulled After Sexual Assault Allegations

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      The online ad, a response to the “Sex and the City” reboot, was removed after The Hollywood Reporter published an article in which two women accused the actor of sexual assault.Peloton pulled down a popular online ad featuring the actor Chris Noth on Thursday after The Hollywood Reporter published an article in which two women accused him of sexual assault.The article detailed the accusations of two women, identified with pseudonyms, who claimed Noth — who played Mr. Big on “Sex and the City” and stars in its new reboot — sexually assaulted them in separate incidents in 2004 and 2015. In a statement, Noth called their accusations “categorically false.”After the allegations surfaced, Peloton, the stationary-bike maker, removed a widely viewed online ad featuring Noth. It had quickly put up the ad after the first episode of the “Sex and the City” reboot — the HBO Max limited series, “And Just Like That” — depicted Mr. Big dying of a heart attack after riding a Peloton bike.“Every single sexual assault accusation must be taken seriously,” Peloton said in a statement. “We were unaware of these allegations when we featured Chris Noth in our response to HBO’s reboot.”One woman told The Hollywood Reporter that Noth, 67, raped her in 2004, when she was 22, after inviting her to his apartment building’s pool in West Hollywood; the woman said that after the assault, a friend took her to the hospital, where she received stitches. Another woman said he assaulted her in 2015, when she was 25, after a date in New York City.“The encounters were consensual,” he said in the statement. “It’s difficult not to question the timing of these stories coming out. I don’t know for certain why they are surfacing now, but I do know this: I did not assault these women.”Noth, who also had roles in “Law & Order” and “The Good Wife,” is best known for his role as Mr. Big, the central love interest and eventual husband of Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) in “Sex and the City.” His death in the reboot shocked fans and set social media ablaze. Peloton’s stock dropped the day after the episode became available.Three days after the episode debuted, Peloton tried to make the most of the ill-fated product placement by releasing the parody ad, which features Noth lounging with his Peloton instructor, extolling the health benefits of the exercise machine while he flirted with her. In the clip, Mr. Noth suggestively raises an eyebrow, seemingly glancing back toward the bedroom, and asks, “Shall we take another ride? Life’s too short not to.”Then, after the sexual assault allegations surfaced, Peloton’s post on Twitter that included the video disappeared. In a statement, the company said it had archived social media posts related to the video and stopped promoting it while it sought to “learn more” about the allegations.HBO declined to comment. More

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      Can Peloton Sue Over Its ‘And Just Like That’ Appearance?

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      A Peloton stationary bike played a pivotal role on the new HBO Max “Sex and the City” revival, whose premiere preceded a drop in the company’s stock price on Friday.This article contains spoilers for the premiere of “And Just Like That” on HBO Max.Peloton, a maker of high-end exercise equipment, was just as surprised as you were by its appearance on “And Just Like That,” the new HBO Max limited series that picks up the story of “Sex and the City.”At the end of the first episode, Mr. Big (Chris Noth), the on-again-off-again love interest of Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), clips into his Peloton stationary bike for his 1,000th ride. Shortly after he hops off the bike, he has a heart attack and dies.After the shocking ending, we couldn’t help but wonder: Are companies usually in the dark about how their products will be used in a movie or TV show, as Peloton reportedly was? What does the typical product-placement agreement look like? And if a company is particularly upset with how its product is portrayed, does it have any legal recourse?So, can Peloton sue?According to Nancy C. Prager, an intellectual property and entertainment lawyer, there are two types of product-placement agreements: one in which a company pays to be featured in show or movie, and another in which a production company procures a trademarked product to be used onscreen.Peloton declined to state on the record whether it was involved in any formal product-placement agreement, but if a production company wants to use a trademarked product, Ms. Prager said, it must get a special license to show the product and brand logos. (In the episode, the Peloton logo is clearly visible on Mr. Big’s bike, and the instructor video closely resembled a real Peloton course.)Ms. Prager explained that under trademark law, a principle known as nominative fair use allows production companies to use a trademark as long as the product is shown being used in a way consistent with the original trademark.“Nominative fair use does not to apply, though, when you use the protected mark in a way that disparages the mark or the brand,” Ms. Prager said. HBO “tarnished Peloton’s good will to consumers,” she added, noting that Peloton products purport to make their customers stronger and healthier.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.“The tarnish can be evidenced by the stock price plummeting,” she added, referring to the 11 percent drop in Peloton stock overnight after the episode aired. The stock’s value continued to fall on Friday.In Ms. Prager’s view, that means Peloton could reasonably consider litigation, especially if HBO did not disclose the story line involving the product.“It was a misstep that Peloton wasn’t fully aware of the script,” said Stacy Jones, the chief executive and founder of Hollywood Branded, a marketing and branding agency in Los Angeles.Peloton did not know how the bike or its instructor Jess King would be featured in the show, according to a report in BuzzFeed News. Ms. Prager and Ms. Jones agree that withholding those details leaves HBO in murky legal territory.“The production forgot that product placement is supposed to be mutually beneficial, and they did not put their thinking cap on about the damage that this would cause the brand,” Ms. Jones said.This seems like a lot of trouble. Why bother with product placement?“Think of product placement as an alternative form of advertising,” David Schweidel, a professor of marketing at Emory University Goizueta Business School, said on Friday.In recent years, companies have been seeking out product-placement agreements more than ever, he said. The increased use of streaming platforms means viewers are seeing fewer commercials, driving companies to make greater use of product-placement deals to promote themselves.“If I can’t reach my customer base with a traditional television commercial anymore, I take the product in the program itself,” Professor Schweidel said. “Then, they can’t avoid it.”He estimated that product-placement advertising was worth well over $20 billion in 2021.For production companies, the arrangements can be mutually beneficial, since featuring recognizable brands can make a show more realistic, Ms. Jones said.In this particular case, the inclusion of Peloton was integral to advancing a story line. “Peloton provided a solution to their problem,” she said.Can HBO protect itself?Usually when a company is so unhappy with how its product has been portrayed that the idea of litigation is floated, “TV shows claim that it’s a parody, that viewers obviously knew that this was fictional,” Beth L. Fossen, an assistant professor of marketing at the Kelley School of Business at Indiana University, said on Friday.That approach usually works for shows like “Saturday Night Live,” she said.But given that Peloton was the subject of unfavorable headlines this year about a child dying in an accident involving one of its treadmills, the story line may have “hit a little too close to home” for that argument to work, Professor Schweidel said.At least for the time being, it seems that Peloton is uninterested in pursuing litigation. In a statement on Saturday, Dr. Suzanne Steinbaum, a cardiologist on Peloton’s health and wellness advisory council, noted that “Mr. Big lived what many would call an extravagant lifestyle — including cocktails, cigars and big steaks — and was at serious risk as he had a previous cardiac event in Season 6.”Dr. Steinbaum said that Mr. Big’s lifestyle choices, perhaps in conjunction with a family history of heart disease, were most likely the cause of his death.In fact, she speculated, “riding his Peloton bike may have even helped delay his cardiac event.” More

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      ‘And Just Like That …’ Recap, Episodes 1 and 2: Big Love

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      Samantha’s gone. The girls are back. And Carrie seems to have finally gotten it all. Can her happiness with Mr. Big last?Season 1, Episodes 1 and 2: ‘Hello It’s Me’ and ‘Little Black Dress’Ding dong, Big is dead. That is sad, but not for the obvious reason.Make no mistake, a wide swath of longtime “Sex and the City” fans have longed for the day that John James Preston, a.k.a. Mr. Big (Chris Noth) would be out of the picture. After many seasons of bad guy behavior, the fact that he and Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) ended up together at the end of the original series left a significant portion of fans dismayed. That Carrie took him back after he left her at the altar in the first movie sequel, and that she compromised herself to fit his marital ideal in the second, did little to assuage disappointment.Then “And Just Like That …,” the 10-part HBO Max follow-up series to “Sex and the City,” was announced, and rumors quickly swirled that Big was going to be killed off. By the end of the premiere episode, which dropped Thursday with Episode 2, the deed was already done.As much as I wanted him gone, I wasn’t rooting for that. I had hoped that after years of heartache and accommodation forced upon her by this man she simultaneously won over and settled for, Carrie would instead finally realize she had always deserved better, and she would walk her sky-high stilettos out the door. She didn’t, and that’s the sad part.Indeed, the premiere episode of “And Just Like That …” leads us to believe (at least for now) that Big had been tamed at long last — that he and Carrie were sincerely happy and had found their soft landing in love. And maybe they had. He and Carrie share a dreamy-eyed slow dance in the kitchen while searing salmon (Carrie cooks now?), and it looks like the picture-perfect marriage a 30-something Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) might have painted. They’re comfortable and committed, but they still have that spark. Who could hope for more?And so, the series chose to have it both ways. Allowing that development to stand, however briefly, allows us to witness Carrie’s apparent success — all hail the conquering hero! But allowing it to stand much longer might have served as a perpetual reminder of what made their relationship so controversial: Carrie’s constant self-debasement through the better part of six seasons and two movies, as she convinced herself that if she only worked hard enough, waited long enough and acquiesced enough, she could change Big. It was that persistent delusion that frustrated so many fans for so long. And centering that narrative today might have sent a toxic and somewhat unconvincing message.So in a tear-jerking scene in which Carrie inexplicably doesn’t call 911 upon finding her husband nearly dead on their bathroom floor, the two share frantic kisses and hugs before Big finally leaves her for good.The ‘Sex and the City’ UniverseThe sprawling franchise revolutionized how women were portrayed on the screen. And the show isn’t over yet. A New Series: Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte return for another strut down the premium cable runway in “And Just Like That,” streaming on HBO. Off Broadway: Candace Bushnell, whose writing gave birth to the “Sex and the City” universe, stars in her one-woman show based on her life. In Carrie’s Footsteps: “Sex and the City” painted a seductive vision of Manhattan, inspiring many young women to move to the city. The Origins: For the show’s 20th anniversary in 2018, Bushnell shared how a collection of essays turned into a pathbreaking series.But more on that later.When Episode 1 opens, we find a trio of familiar faces — Carrie, Charlotte York Goldenblatt and Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon) — living in a vaguely idealized, maskless, carefree-ish post-pandemic New York.Of course there’s a glaring absence: Samantha Jones, played in previous installments by Kim Cattrall, who left the franchise amid a very public feud with Parker. The series gets right to addressing the missing “fourth musketeer,” in a way that may vaguely allude to the apparent real-life drama. A rift between Carrie and Samantha has emerged. In Carrie’s words, she fired Samantha as her publicist, and then Samantha fired Carrie, along with Charlotte and Miranda, as friends.At first pass, this seems like a grave overreaction on Samantha’s part. She crossed an ocean and won’t answer texts just because her pride was bruised? Maybe. Or maybe she was just sick of third-wheeling with her boring married friends and needed to move on, and the overseas job thing is just a pretext. We’ll never know.What we do know, however, is that in some respect, the story mirrors reality. Much of what has been reported about the relationships among the series’s core four actors is hearsay and speculation. But we know that there was friction between Cattrall and her castmates and that Cattrall, like Samantha, removed herself.Regardless of the reasons for Samantha’s departure, it is relatable. As decades pass, some friendships wither, and this plot point is a reminder that, like romantic relationships, sometimes friendships aren’t happily ever after.With that out of the way, the episode moves at a rapid pace, making little room for subtlety or nuance when it comes to situating the characters in this new stage of life. Everyone is older. (In case the passing of time wasn’t obvious, you’ll be made aware of it by the many self-deprecating “old” jokes woven into the dialogue.) The women have gray hair, in various degrees and shades of dye. They’re not entirely comfortable with podcasts. They struggle with pronouns. They weren’t who they once were, and they’re not trying to be. Sort of. (As Charlotte, still a full brunette, argues: “Ruth Bader Ginsburg died her hair.”)Carrie is still in the media game, but she has parlayed her success from print columns and books into a steady podcast gig and healthy Instagram following. It’s all a bit uncomfy to her, though, especially when her younger, “queer, nonbinary, Mexican-Irish diva” boss, Che Diaz (Sara Ramirez), tells her she needs to be more explicit on the show.Charlotte is mostly still Charlotte, living a lovely life in a Park Avenue palace with her adoring husband and girls. While her oldest, Lily (Cathy Ang), who stuns the crowd at her piano recital with a virtuosic performance, seems to take after her mother in the pursuit of perfection, her youngest daughter, Rose (Alexa Swinton), is a punky skateboarder who won’t wear the floral Oscar de la Renta number her mom bought for her without an ironic T-shirt over top.Finally, Miranda has ditched corporate law to pursue a master’s in human rights — an endeavor she proclaims she doesn’t need to be a “spicy redhead” for. If Miranda’s gray hair and fine lines aren’t enough to alienate her from her Gen Z classmates, the racially insensitive rambling she spills onto her Black professor, Nya Wallace (Karen Pittman), certainly solidifies it. Watching Miranda struggle to walk back comments about her professor’s braids is almost as uncomfortable as watching Big masturbate.It has been well publicized that the franchise has made an effort to reckon with its original blinding whiteness, namely with the addition of new cast members of color. Reasonable people will disagree on whether or not the series is doing that successfully and sensitively. Still, Miranda’s word vomit scene suggests they’re at least being thoughtful about that process. Considering the original series is riddled with dated, problematic references, and that the second movie was slammed as, at worst, offensive, and at best, insensitive, the still largely white cast couldn’t burst into this series completely enlightened. Their learning curve is on display, particularly in Miranda’s cringey white savior moments with her incredibly patient professor, and that at least feels honest.In all other regards, the first episode is largely lighthearted until the very end, when Big suddenly drops his phone, has a heart attack and dies. That flows into the mostly melancholy Episode 2.Much as they did when Big no-showed his wedding to Carrie in the first movie, Carrie’s fiercely loyal friends, Miranda and Charlotte, are right by her side in this time of need, literally, sleeping next to her in shifts as she navigates her new role as a widow. Even Samantha makes a spectral appearance, sending a billowing coffin spray to the funeral.The funeral itself is as austere as the man was, by Carrie’s design. Knowing Big would have hated a stodgy old funeral home, she throws a modern if somewhat unfeeling affair to commemorate Big’s passing — an event through which she does almost no crying. “But is that good?” Miranda wonders aloud.Speaking of wondering aloud, let us all raise a glass to the cameo friend Susan Sharon (Molly Price) for taking a pause mid-memorial to ask the essential question: “Am I the only one that remembers what a [expletive] he was to her?” Amen.The steeliness of it all is broken by Charlotte, who does the bulk of the crying, in part out of sadness for Carrie’s loss, and in part out of guilt. Charlotte reasons that had she not forced Carrie to go to Lily’s recital instead of heading out to the Hamptons with Big, Carrie would have been with Big when he had his heart attack, and he might have lived (assuming Carrie had remembered to call for an ambulance). Late in the episode, as Charlotte pushes this theory once again, Carrie relieves her of her pain, saying she isn’t mad at Charlotte but at herself for not switching off the people-pleaser inside her and leaving with Big, as she wanted to.It would have been a great time for Susan Sharon to show up again and point out that Big still refused to go to events with Carrie and her friends, and that maybe, if he would have been a little more considerate, he might have come to the recital and not died alone.In any case, that’s the worst of it for Charlotte, at least in these first two episodes. Her only other pressing concern is whether she can turn the cool documentarian and fellow P.T.O. mom Lisa Todd Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker) — her allotted friend or colleague of color for the series — into her new BFF.Other characters are facing deeper issues. These early episodes hint at a possible drinking problem for Miranda, who sneaks wine into Lily’s recital, orders a midmorning Chablis at a dive bar and slams bourbon at the funeral before her speech.Meanwhile, marriage is not so blissful for Anthony Marentino (Mario Cantone) and Stanford Blatch (Willie Garson) who bicker at every turn, even on a “good night,” only to be reminded by Big’s passing that they’re lucky to have each other. Given that Garson died in September as the new series was still filming, it remains to be seen how long that will remain true.But of course it is Carrie whose world has been rocked the hardest. She is on her own again, asking herself, “What do I do now?”Will she gallivant through Manhattan sipping cosmos and serial dating? I hope not. Most of us aren’t here for Carrie ‘n’ friends to relive their glory days. They’re in a more mature, wisened up place, and that feels right.Still, despite her grief, it’s impossible not to feel a ripple of excitement that our single girl is back. More

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      ‘Is There Still Sex in the City?’ Review: Candace Bushnell Dishes Hot Details

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      In her one-woman Off Broadway show, the “Sex and the City” author invites audiences behind the scenes of her life with a wink and a cocktail.Like her “Sex and the City” alter ego, Carrie Bradshaw, Candace Bushnell dated a politician once — though he never asked her to pee on him. Dishy details like this are delightfully sprinkled throughout “Is There Still Sex in the City?,” a one-woman show written by and starring Bushnell that opened on Tuesday at the Daryl Roth Theater. But she offers more here than mere fodder for fans of her conflicted urban fairy tale of female sexual liberation, which grew from her mid-’90s column for The New York Observer into the enduring franchise.With her frank and unpretentious point of view, Bushnell developed an appealing and assured mode of storytelling that marries aspirational fantasy with friendly confessional. Making her stage debut at 63, the author synthesizes her own personal and professional life as if it were a surprisingly eventful night on the town, inviting audiences behind the scenes and into her cozy confidence with a wink and a cocktail. (Cosmopolitans are available for purchase at the theater entrance.)Bushnell’s onstage memoir proceeds at a quick clip. When she emerged from puberty flat-chested, her father said soberly, “I’m afraid no man is ever going to love you.” (“Thanks, Dad.”) She climbed off the bus to Manhattan in a Loehmann’s outfit picked out by her mother, hoping to write her way to a Pulitzer. She landed her first byline with a wry piece on how to behave at Studio 54. (“If someone dies, ignore them.”) She met her Mr. Big, and then he dumped her just as she published the book “Sex and the City,” in 1996, which would upend how readers, and later viewers, thought about women and sex.Under the direction of Lorin Latarro, Bushnell is conversational and accessible onstage; there’s a wonder and humility to her tone even as she settles behind the velvet ropes of high society, which makes her endearing rather than alienating to those looking on from the outside. Her prose doesn’t play for laughs, but humor stems from Bushnell’s pithy matter-of-factness. There’s an economy of detail, too, that works smartly in performance. On the set of “Sex and the City,” a crane “shining a very large light, as bright as the sun” fills her with awe. (“And it’s all because of something I wrote.”)The stage, outfitted like a living-room-size walk-in closet, drips in shades of pink, with pairs of Manolo Blahniks enshrined in glowing chambers (the set design is by Anna Louizos, and lighting by Travis McHale). Sound design by Sadah Espii Proctor cleverly calls up city scenes, from clinking brunch silverware to bustling Midtown traffic. Bushnell breezily cycles through svelte silhouettes from the costume designer Lisa Zinni, in step with the scribe’s philosophy of fashion as pleasure.Sexual agency and consumer gratification may no longer represent the very vanguard of modern feminism. (The revelation that Bushnell paid to house her own formidable footwear collection — unlike Carrie, whose closet was a gift from Mr. Big — perhaps doesn’t make her bell hooks.) But the imaginative framework that Bushnell laid out in “Sex and the City” has served as a formative foundation in popular culture — and it’s a fun playground to retread here with its romantic, sunny-voiced architect.In answer to the title question, Bushnell has decamped to the Hamptons, where she relishes planting vegetables, staying in and hula-hooping. These are the bonus years, Bushnell says, an opportunity to reinvigorate and reap the benefits of self-knowledge. Her own Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha have also moved into the neighborhood, proof of her enduring thesis that friendship is life’s greatest love story.Is There Still Sex in the City?Through Feb. 6 at the Daryl Roth Theater, Manhattan; darylroththeatre.com. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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      ‘And Just Like That’: The Shoe Must Go On

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      In the ’90s, “Sex and the City” celebrated single women. Can a new, more nuanced version make a comedy of middle-aged ones?When we last left the ladies of “Sex and the City,” the pathbreaking, cupcake-inspiring HBO series and film franchise, Miranda had joined a new law firm, Samantha had achieved orgasm atop a Mercedes G-Class SUV, Charlotte was hosting a child’s birthday party, and Carrie and Big were snuggling on the sofa as a black-and-white movie played, a happily ever after for everyone.This was the peaceable close of “Sex and the City 2,” the strained 2010 movie that sent its characters into the Middle East and critics into ecstasies of disdain. (Here is A.O. Scott’s comparatively mild pan in The Times: “Your watch will tell you that a shade less than two and a half hours have elapsed, but you may be shocked at just how much older you feel when the whole thing is over.”) Still, another movie was planned, only to fall apart, largely on Twitter, in 2017. Like a Fendi baguette, the series seemed to have gone out of style.But the ’90s are extremely on trend right now, and the women of “Sex and the City” (well, most of them) have returned for another strut down the premium cable runway. “And Just Like That,” a 10-episode limited series, premieres on HBO Max on Dec. 9. Don’t call it a reboot! The characters so rarely wore boots!Like the original, this new version follows the author Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), the lawyer Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) and the former gallerista and current homemaker Charlotte (Kristin Davis). But in the place of Kim Cattrall’s libertine Samantha are four new actors: Sarita Choudhury, Nicole Ari Parker, Karen Pittman and Sara Ramírez. Their presence remedies the original’s blinding whiteness, though if the promotional materials are any indication, not its appetitive glamour and unacknowledged privilege.So here’s a question for Carrie: Can a show adapt to changed characters and changing times while still supplying what fans loved about the original?On break from a shoot at Brooklyn’s Steiner Studios, Michael Patrick King, a “Sex and the City” executive producer and the showrunner of “And Just Like That,” had an enthusiastic answer. “It’s dangerous. It’s exciting. It’s a challenge,” he said, bent forward on the sofa in his office. “It’s not a cash cow. It’s not a cash in.” Besides how else could he get a show about middle-aged women greenlighted?“I don’t think that anybody would take on new women characters at 55 without proof that people will watch,” he said. Which means that ladies might have some new paths to break, if they can walk them in heels.The original “Sex and the City” was always two shows. One was a fidgety, philosophical comedy about single, successful women who didn’t need a man to complete them. Or maybe they did? And really, what is completion anyway? The other was the show as fans received it — and the show that it arguably became — a high-gloss romantic comedy and a fashion romp. What, you think it was the existential crises that motivated the bus tours?New stars like Nicole Ari Parker (center, with Davis and Pat Bowie) keep “And Just Like That” from being as overwhelmingly white as the original.Craig Blankenhorn/HBOThat latter show had long ago reached its conclusion. Because in a romantic comedy, once the girl gets the guy — or as in Samantha’s case, the many guys — where can the story really go? This structural roadblock explains why the second movie spun its wheels. (Those wheels were camels, which King now somewhat regrets.) So it seemed destined to live on only in reruns, rewatches and Instagram accounts devoted to its outfits.But early into New York City’s pandemic lockdown, King and Parker began to chat about making a behind-the-scenes podcast. At some point, those chats turned more imaginative, speculating about what the lives of the characters might look like now. As Parker, speaking by telephone from the set of another sequel, “Hocus Pocus 2,” put it, they began to ask themselves, “Why are we not thinking about the thing that we’ve touched on many times, which is, are there more stories to tell?”Having already resolved the characters’ questions about marriage, partnership and children during the original series — King maintains these weren’t the relevant questions, but few plot lines centered on anything else — the new show claims to look elsewhere and largely inward, just as the first series did in its early seasons. Parker ran down a few of the current interrogations: “Who am I? What will change do to me? Can I change? How do I react to big change?”The show has undergone changes big and small — some thematic, some aesthetic, many structural. King recalled that during the first series, he felt as though he had to tie up each episode with a little bow, a concession to an audience that might not view them sequentially.“Streaming is like, untie the bow,” he said. “Untie it.”That doesn’t mean that “And Just Like That” encompasses much mess. During my visit to Steiner Studios, where I felt extremely underdressed, King took me around the various sets, each immaculate. Miranda’s Brooklyn brownstone and Charlotte’s Park Avenue palace have each received glow-ups. Carrie’s old apartment has lilac paint and statement wallpaper now. Her closet? Sublime.So Carrie still has two apartments, but “And Just Like That”no longer centers her experience. The show has mostly done away with her voice-over, making way for dialogue for its four new main characters: Choudhury’s high-end real estate agent, Parker’s documentarian, Pittman’s professor and Ramirez’s podcast host.Why didn’t the show have more characters of color before? “It was a show that was based on material that was very much of its time,” Sarah Jessica Parker said diplomatically, referring to Candace Bushnell’s New York Observer columns.Though Nixon has stuck with the franchise, she said she had been “horrified” by the lack of racial diversity during the show’s original run. Like Parker and Davis, she said that she insisted that the characters in this new version couldn’t function as trendy accessories for the original cast.“In order to get great actors to do these parts, they would have to be not supporting us,” Nixon said. That meant also insuring that the writers’ room was staffed with several women of color and that their story lines followed these new characters even when Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte headed offscreen.“Each of the episodes, at this point, they’re all around 43 minutes,” King said. “Because there’s seven fully realized people in it.”The new series doesn’t try to reform the characters, Parker said: “We don’t try to make a point of, ‘Look, they’re mature, they’re better, they’re smarter.’”Craig Blankenhorn/HBOOn the day I visited the set, I watched one of Nicole Ari Parker’s scenes. Dressed to the nines or maybe the tens, she performed a marital spat with her series husband, played by Christopher Jackson. A few days later on the phone, I asked her if she had seen the original series — she had — and if its overwhelming whiteness had bothered her.“A little bit,” she said. “But I wasn’t expecting ‘Sex and the City’ to be realistic.” She was talking to me while she shopped for shoes at Nordstrom, which seemed nicely on brand.“I mean, every now and then I felt sorry for them,” she said. “Like, if they had a Black girlfriend, they wouldn’t be having these problems.” But she appreciated how complex a character the show had created for her and that she wasn’t the only character of color.“They understand that one Black friend is not going to cut it,” she said.Still, this new series shouldn’t be seen as a repudiation of the old one or even as a corrective to its oversights — well, some its oversights. Sarah Jessica Parker knows that not everyone liked the original characters, Carrie in particular. This new show doesn’t aim to fix them.“We don’t try to make a point of: ‘Look, they’re mature, they’re better, they’re smarter. See, they’re sorry for the things you didn’t like,’” she said. “I don’t think that’s our best approach.”The occasional tutu aside, “And Just Like That” isn’t intended as fan service either. The series doesn’t pretend that the women haven’t moved on with their lives in the intervening years; it doesn’t deny that they have aged. When some first-look pictures and a teaser trailer emerged, social media briefly blew up with comments about the women’s looks and the cosmetic interventions they had or hadn’t undergone.“And Just Like That” has several scenes that discuss these issues directly. King mimed a bit involving Nixon’s Miranda and her neck. Generally, it aims for stories about women in their 50s as rich and bright and complicated, if not as raunchy, as the ones the original told about women in their 30s. (Same city. Less sex.) Which is to say that it’s trying for just a little more nuance than “The Golden Girls.”“I am a woman in my 50s, so I am well aware that your life does not end whether you find a guy or a girl or not, whether you have kids or not, right?” Davis said. “We can testify to the fact that it’s not over, and it’s not boring. So I was never in doubt that we could tell interesting stories.”What those stories were, no one would spoil. Eager fans have analyzed that 30-second teaser clip with the exegetical rigor typically reserved for ancient hieroglyphs. So here is what I did learn: Big (Chris Noth) is not dead. Samantha is not dead, though Cattrall’s absence means that she doesn’t appear onscreen.“Nobody’s dead,” King said. Nobody? “Nobody.”And yet, Willie Garson, who played Carrie’s gay best friend, Stanford Blatch, died during the filming of “And Just Like That,” a sad reminder of time’s passage and the grief it can bring. His death wasn’t written into the show.“Because it wasn’t charming,” King said. “And I knew that the audience would know.”“And Just Like That” wants to charm. It isn’t the first comedy about middle-aged women. Since “Sex and the City” ended, television has offered “Cougartown,” “Hot in Cleveland,” “Younger.” September brought Julie Delpy’s “On the Verge.” But a few statement necklaces aside, none of those shows had quite the glamour of “Sex and the City” and none were quite as revolutionary — in the frankness of the sex talk, in the insistence on female subjectivity, in the championing of single women, even if it did pair just about all of them off.Will “And Just Like That” exert the same cultural, fashion-forward influence, even in a culture obsessed with youth, even in a world glutted with content? King, predictably but not unreasonably, argues that it might.“If it was aspirational — aspirational apartments, aspirational clothing, aspirational people — it’s still aspirational,” he said. More