It’s clear from minute one of And Just LIke That, the Sex And The City reboot, that time has moved on. Sure, our heroines - or three of them, at least - are wearing high fashion and queuing for brunch at a desirable restaurant, but once they sit down the discussion centres on whether they’re dyeing their hair for the look or to cover up their age.
The only discussion about sex this time involves Miranda’s horror at her son’s activities; the only shock value is seeing Carrie eat carbs. If the theme of the original show was the search for love, this one focuses on the passing of time and all the joys and sorrows that brings. That gives this a different, more serious tone than its predecessor, but not necessarily a weaker result.
We’re in an explicitly post-pandemic world, and everyone is beginning to re-emerge and re-connect. It's a pleasingly Omicron-free fantasy where the pandemic has an end, but there are realistic touches that bring it to life, like Carrie and Big discussing their lockdown dinner rituals and gloves as a medically useful fashion accessory.
The show isn't solely going to focus on enormously privileged, 50-something white women this time.
As we rejoin them, the bottom has dropped out of publishing, so that Carrie is now an Instagram fashion blogger (that tracks) and podcaster ('Carrie I love you to death but I draw the line at podcasts,' quips Miranda). Miranda was radicalised by Trump’s presidency and has left the touchy-feely corporate law firm she joined at the end of the second movie to go back to university and train in human rights law. Only Charlotte seems largely unaffected so far, still trying to be an alpha mother, and conquer the Upper West Side with her perfect children, but young Rose has her own ideas of what that involves.
The show's biggest change is quickly addressed in a way that feels largely true to Samantha's fiery character and not entirely disrespectful of Kim Cattrall's choice not to return. There was a falling out between Carrie and Samantha, we're told, and if Samantha arguably took a professional slight too personally, it's not a stretch to imagine her character doing just what's described. Importantly, the door is left at least ajar for a triumphant reunion down the line. Until then, Samantha is in London, where a 'sexy siren in her 60s' is still desirable; good news for all of our futures here in the UK.
Meanwhile, Carrie has to figure out how to be a broadcaster, and how to talk as openly about sex as she once wrote about it so that she won't sound like a prim old lady. Miranda is trying to be an ally and an activist and largely tripping over her own good intentions. But the show isn't solely going to focus on enormously privileged, 50-something white women this time. These first two episodes introduce a Black family to hang out with Charlotte's, a Black law professor to school Miranda and a non-binary Latinx as Carrie's boss.
Our heroines are not always going to negotiate the requisite sensitivities successfully, assuming gender identities or overstepping on race questions with all the grace of those high fashion Crocs. Not for nothing does one character sound a 'woke' alarm at regular intervals to signal discussion of these issues. But well-meaning, liberal-ish women like these are trying to reckon with their own roles in a racist, heternormative and patriarchal world, and it feels like a natural evolution for them trio to be working harder at being decent human beings in today's world.
Still, this remains a show focused on relationships, and some of those are hugely emotional. Part of the impact is the sense that we're reuniting with long-lost old friends, but part is in the writing this time. It's truly lovely to see Charlotte living the life she dreamed of, or Carrie and Big in an idyllic stage of their marriage. They're doing so well that she survives on just half their shared walk-in closet and doesn’t seem to mind. Their murky history is not entirely forgotten, but it’s another character who notes that he was 'a prick' to Carrie back in the day; Carrie herself seems more content than we've ever seen her, and that is strangely inspirational. Grey hair may come, but peace can come with it.
For all the new characters and new challenges then, this opening to And Just Like That feels like a homecoming. It's mostly like slipping into a pair of comfortable old shoes - not that any of these ladies wear comfortable shoes. They haven't aged that much, not yet.
READ MORE: The Not-So-Secret Dig At Samantha In And Just Like That