Embracing the Surreal Comedy of And Just Like That
Part of the appeal of shows like Sex and the City and its recent sequel, And Just Like That, lies in our deep connection to the characters. We have followed their lives through ups and downs, even when those ups and downs involve absurd plot twists like Lisa’s dad dying twice or Carrie writing a novel about a 19th-century woman in crisis (which, let’s be honest, is very on-brand for Carrie).
If we hadn’t already been fans of Sex and the City, chances are we wouldn’t be tuning in to And Just Like That. This creates a strange paradox where we are simultaneously tied to these characters while watching a series that often feels like a surreal choose-your-own-adventure game created by AI.
At first, this mismatch of expectations may have evoked some resentment. But over time, I’ve come to embrace the weirdness of it all. From Charlotte partying until dawn in Manhattan (where clubs definitely do not stay open that late) to Carrie’s refusal to furnish her home, the show delights in subverting our expectations. Even Aidan making Carrie sleep in an out-house in her clothes, akin to banishing her to a kennel, becomes part of the show’s quirky charm.
My colleague Rad and I find ourselves grappling with endless questions after each episode, reveling in the joy of the unanswered queries. The true pleasure of And Just Like That lies in the ambiguity and absurdity of it all, rather than in spite of it.
Perhaps I’ve developed a form of Stockholm syndrome or maybe the internet has warped my brain, but once I let go of any preconceived notions of And Just Like That as a traditional SATC sequel and started viewing it as a surrealist comedy, a new level of appreciation emerged. Bring on the next episode of unbridled insanity—I’m eagerly anticipating the wild ride ahead.
