In Defense of “And Just Like That…”, Part Two: ‘Wokeness’ and ‘Cringey’ and Age, Oh My!
In part one, I discussed criticism leveled at HBOMax’s And Just Like That… with respect to the missing ‘Samantha Jones’. On to other criticisms of the criticism (with occasional agreement). Spoilers follow.
“Wokeness”
One of the charges leveled at the original Sex and the City was lack of diversity among the leading characters. Actress Cynthia Nixon has been quoted that a condition to her participation in And Just Like That… was that the narrative address this problem.
“Wokeness”, or “being woke” is being thrown at And Just Like That… as an intense negative. As a white male, I realize I’m walking a tightrope discussing my perspective on the “woke” attacks.
Before the last four years, my definition of ‘racist’ was a person who felt all other races were inferior to white, or felt no other race except white should exist. That was not my point of view, so I felt confident in declaring I was not racist.
The conversation changed in 2017. I’d never heard the phrase “white privilege” let alone examined what it meant for me personally or what “micro” forms of racism I may have been indoctrinated with. The question of whether I was racist on any level was no longer so cut and dry. I suppose that shift is what would make me “woke.”
I understand that for people of color, “woke” white people may be an annoyance. “Oh, you’re finally paying more attention? Well, thanks, but you’re a little — maybe a lot — late.”
Even so, it should go without saying that there is a difference between those who mean well and those who mean harm. In our current reality, white people who fall into the former category are trying to find the right way to “be” when it comes to issues of race.
Why shouldn’t the white characters of And Just Like That… be behaving any differently?
To see Miranda (Nixon) and Charlotte (Kristin Davis) bumping into the furniture with respect to issues of anti-racism, lack of diversity among friendships, white-savior complexes and the like, makes sense and feels correct as a reflection of the current reality.
I can understand some prefer that And Just Like That… be a complete escape and not bring “real world” issues into the show at all. Still, Sex and the City always found ways to comment on “real world” ideas (even if they were from the perspective of higher privilege).
What’s particularly interesting with respect to Miranda, is that the character had a significant relationship with a black man, Robert (played by Blair Underwood), in the original series. Robert’s race was never part of the storyline. Miranda was attracted to Robert and that was that.
Today, that story could not be told without race being a factor. That may be why the writers are going “all in” on the subject now. In 2003, that story arc played as the equivalent of a white person saying “I don’t see color.” At that time, the writers likely felt “race shouldn’t be an issue, so we won’t make it one.”
(In the third season of Sex And The City, Samantha dated a black man and issues of race were touched on, but that was only one episode. One of the actors in that episode, Sundra Oakley, spoke with Vanity Fair in 2018 about how ‘problematic’ the episode seems now).
If people take issue with the quality of the writing of And Just Like That…, that’s one thing. Only the problem doesn’t seem to stop there. Some are saying that these writers and actors are the wrong people to be telling this kind of story; that they shouldn’t bother at all.
That feels unfair. I’d be curious to know what new writers Samantha Irby, Keli Goff and Rachna Fruchbom think of that. Their input is taken into consideration for each and every episode, even those where they are not listed as a credited writer.
Some argue that all of the new, ethnically diverse characters are being ‘shoehorned’ into the story instead of it feeling organic, and the writers are “trying too hard.”
I only feel the introduction of one character has been a little clunky. I was taken aback by a scene in the first episode where Miranda mistakes Professor Nya Wallace (played by Karen Pittman) for a student because of her braids (Miranda had seen an online photo of Wallace without braids).
From there, Miranda sticks her foot in her mouth in even more multitudes of ways, and falls down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. This is the first scene to be labeled “cringey” by a myriad of social media folk.
In the original series, characters were always “stepping in it.” Writer-director-producer Michael Patrick King generally refers to this as the “creampie.” Any time a character is feeling a little too confident of something, they’d get a metaphoric “pie in the face” to make them realize they don’t know as much as they think they do.
This scene feels like it’s supposed to fall along those lines. My issue is that it makes Miranda sound dumber than she’s ever been written (except, maybe, for “Abu Dhabi Doo!”).
In the official podcast for the writer’s room of And Just Like That…, the writers discussed the reaction to the classroom scene and defended the choices, indicating that “even the most smart, aware, articulate people have blunders.”
Samantha Irby states that her favorite kind of comedy is “uncomfortable, liberal, ‘I’m not racist, but I said something that sounded kind of racist.’”
She continues, “We talked about it a lot, and I am very ‘just make the joke. Just make the joke that pushes the envelope.’” It’s implied she felt it was OK for King, the credited writer, to leave the scene as is.
King states that at the premiere for the series in New York City, the audience was “screaming laughing” at the scene, although another writer adds, “and uncomfortable.” Then King says, “That’s what it’s for; laughter from uncomfortability.”
Well, I did not laugh. It didn't “play” funny, to me. I did, however, wince. It was uncomfortable. So, mission accomplished on that level and I’d have to agree that the scene is “cringey.”
However, I was cringing with respect to words coming out of this character, Miranda, not whether the story was unrealistic or should be told at all.
On subsequent viewing, I was reminded Miranda stopped for a drink before her class. A drinking problem appears to be part of Miranda’s character arc in this series, so I could “fill in a blank” that alcohol may have affected Miranda and dumbed her down a bit.
The judgment I don’t understand is from those who feel the scene (and two subsequent scenes between Miranda and Nya that also feel a bit ‘on the nose’) turns Miranda into a “Karen.”
My understanding of being labeled a “Karen” is that you’re a woman who means harm and could care less if you’re coming across racist. That is not how Miranda is written. If I’ve missed a secondary definition for “Karen” that fits Miranda’s gaffes in her first three scenes with Nya, I’m legitimately unaware.
By the time we get to episode four, where a moving and intimate conversation finally occurs between Miranda and Nya, the dynamic finally does feel organic. I think, from here on out, things will be smoother.
“Cringey” (The Charlotte Mix)
Also in episode four, titled “Some of My Best Friends”, we deal with Charlotte still experiencing the classic Charlotte motif of needing to be 100% perfect.
What is trickier this time, is Charlotte wants to be perfect demonstrating to her new friend, Lisa Todd Wexley (or “LTW”, played by Nicole Ari Parker), that she has black friends. As she is planning a dinner party so LTW and her husband can meet Carrie, Miranda and others in “the circle”, she realizes how “vanilla” her guest list is and panics.
On first view of the episode, Charlotte’s paranoia about perception at this level felt over the top and uncomfortable, even for Charlotte! I didn’t find a scene where she begs a neighbor to come to a dinner party all that funny until a second viewing.
On second view, it became funny because it clicked that Charlotte’s concern isn’t wholly selfish, or only for herself. Beyond the idea that the character has always had moments like this, she’s also genuinely concerned that LTW and her husband will feel uncomfortable if they’re the only black people in a room full of white people.
Charlotte’s party ultimately gets delayed, and then she and her husband Harry (played by MVP Evan Handler, who consistently and hilariously cuts through tension) are invited to the Wexley’s, where they are the only white people in a room full of black people.
At the end of the episode, when Charlotte comes clean to Lisa about her fears, this allows Lisa to let Charlotte know she was just as uncomfortable with the shoe on the other foot. I appreciated that moment, even if I wished the scene went a little further.
What is most intriguing about the reaction to “Some of My Best Friends” and Charlotte’s behavior is that it was written by Keli Goff, who is a woman of color.
I didn’t know who had written the episode as I first watched; once I learned it was Keli Goff and watched again, the episode took on an added dimension, which is how black people perceive white people behave around them.
From that point of view, the episode is quite important.
Had the episode been written by one of the white writers, I could see this as a case of “they’re trying too hard.” The fact that the episode is written by a black woman and still getting attacked for being too “woke” is interesting. My opinion, however, should not be confused with the idea that “just because a black woman wrote it, it’s impervious to criticism.”
Miranda’s permissiveness
Miranda is allowing her teenage son, Brady, to have sex with his girlfriend in Miranda’s house. Some find this outrageous, or immoral (with the latter: um, the parent show is called Sex and the City?).
When I was in high school in the 1980s, I had friends with permissive, “liberal minded” parents. They may not have “cheerleaded” sex in the house, but they understood their kids were going to have sex even if they were told not to. It seemed these parents would prefer their teenagers have a safe space to have sex instead of screwing in cars or seedy motels.
That was 35 years ago. If it was realistic then, it’s moreso now! So, based on my experience, Miranda’s choice is not beyond the pale. She’s simply a progressive parent.
I will say it seems a bit contradictory that Miranda is fine with Brady having sex in the house but goes into a rage when she catches him taking a hit of weed during Big’s funeral. (Was it that he was smoking weed, or that he was doing it in public?)
Having said that, it seems clear one of the points of Miranda’s storyline is that she is struggling with what she is tolerating or merely “going along with” in her life. It will not surprise me if we see Miranda’s arc winds up with a declaration along the lines of “I’ve allowed too much, and maybe I shouldn't have!”
Aging
Goldie Hawn has a line in The First Wives Club, “There are only three ages for women in Hollywood: Babe, District Attorney and Driving Miss Daisy.”
The Golden Girls, instead of ‘Miss Daisy’ is the primary reference for snark directed at And Just Like That… which falls right in line with the Hawn quip. Once you turn 40, you aren’t allowed to be on film again until you can play sweet, funny grandmas or little old ladies.
A show about women between 40 and 60? Forget about it! Women between these ages should just “go away.” One thing I’ve read over and over is this show shouldn’t be made because “women in their 50s are still trying to act like they’re in their 30s.”
As if And Just Like That… was going to pretend these women aren’t the age they are. The incredibly sexist and short-sighted criticism continues now that the show is airing.
“Aren’t they a little old to act like this?”
“It’s sad, they should all just ‘move on.’”
“Doing this show feels desperate.”
Or, the other side of the coin, “Why do they have to keep mentioning how old they are in the dialogue?”
I think it’s because a) this may be the first time women at this age are the lead characters of a television series, and that’s important, and b) the portion of the audience that wants the women to remain jumping from guy to guy and cosmo-drinking does need to be reminded that this show isn’t about what came before.
This isn’t the first time the cast of Sex and the City has been confronted with a “shut up and go away” contingent. In 2008, when the first movie was released, Time Out magazine did a cover story which slapped tape over the mouths of the four actresses.
The first two words of the cover byline read: “Enough already!”
Enough already? The series had been off the air four years at that point.
Maybe the show airing in syndication made it feel like they’d never left, but that level of annoyance after four years “officially” away was inescapably sexist. I don’t recall any magazine ever slapping tape over the mouth of any male movie star when their latest sequel in a string of sequels was being released.
(Always drawing from reality, the idea of tape across the mouth wound up being used as an effective plot point in Sex and the City 2).
And Just Like That… is not ignoring that the women are older. One remains happily married, one is feeling out what her marriage is two decades in, and the other is newly widowed (and possibly needing hip surgery!). In the third episode of And Just Like That…, when Carrie Bradshaw has opportunity to go to a trendy after-party, she decides to go home instead. The Carrie Bradshaw of 2000 wouldn’t think of doing that.
Just as Sex and the City made headway by showcasing how awkward it can be to be single in your 30s, there is plenty of room for stories about women navigating whatever is awkward about being 50-something.
Irrespective of opinions about writing choices, I expect men and women closer to the current age of the characters will “get it.” Younger generations, who discovered Sex and the City via syndication and may be expecting more cosmos and parties and mere fabulousness may take a little longer to catch up.
“Waaaaah!”
The most annoying comment I see across social media is “They’ve ruined Sex and the City!” Presuming those making this comment are people who re-watch the show over and over via streaming, syndication, or physical media, the notion that this new series “ruins” anything that came before is ridiculous.
If you love the original series, nothing about it changes. On repeated views, one may catch nuances not noticed before, but the performances will always be the same. The storylines will always be the same. The fashion, the shoes, the cosmos, the friendships; you can revisit anytime and nothing will change. Ever.
And Just Like That… ruins nothing. It’s a different show that shows the characters later in their lives.
If you don’t like the show, very well — but it doesn’t ruin what came before it unless you choose that. You have control. You can just as easily decide that the story stopped after six seasons, or six seasons and one movie, or six seasons and two movies. It’s your call. The writers and actors continuing the story have ruined nothing.
In the meantime, those of us who are happy to see the story continue, grow and evolve will be over here enjoying it for what it is, flaws and all.
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I’ll address the more trivial aspects of criticsm with respect to Big’s death and Stanford’s exit, in part three. At the time of publication I had not yet seen Episode 5 of And Just Like That… If some crazy criticism with respect to Carrie Bradshaw needing hip surgery is born out of that episode, I am sure I’ll bring it up.
Links to Part One and Part Three
