Skip to content

Pretend it’s not a car crash

January 20, 2022

Hands up if you’ve been watching And Just Like That, the current reboot of Sex and the City. Keep your hand up if you’re enjoying it. Really? There’s one person? Well, whatever turns your crank, I guess.

Don’t get me wrong. I used to love Sex and the City. When the first film came out I actually went to see it at the cinema, but it was sold out, so I ended up seeing In Bruges instead, which, although I didn’t know it at the time, turned out to be a win for me. Still, some months later, when I was in Vancouver staying with my friend Catherine, the day it came out on DVD we both bought a copy. (Mine was actually a present for her and went back to the shop.) As we were watching it that night we were also giving each other sideways glances. Had it always been this bad? Had they always been this annoying? Why didn’t we remember?

Charlotte, little miss sunshine, has never been anything but beyond the pale, but used to like Miranda and Samantha and, indeed, Carrie. Despite her fashion obsession, Carrie had a couple of things going for her. She was a writer; she always had a snappy (usually sarcastic) comeback and then there was Big. I’ve had my own run ins with fabulous and completely unobtainable men, so I sympathised. I even rooted for Big over Aidan, because why would you settle for a perfectly nice guy when you could waste your life on a bastard? And of course he got her in the end. They really should have left it there.

Kim Cattrall wisely said not on your nellie. Obviously she could smell the stink from the off. She must be sitting somewhere laughing quietly (or even raucously) to herself. 

This show is car crash television.

Charlotte is still annoying, but so too now is the once dependable, now constantly moaning Miranda. Spoiler alert: If you haven’t watched the new show, but think you still might, don’t read any further.

And then there’s Carrie. I understand that she wouldn’t want to continue living in the gorgeous Manhattan apartment she shared with Big, but moving back into her thirty-something brownstone studio flat that she’s apparently never sold? Okay, I kinda get the never selling it. It was the place she went to write. I wish I had a place where I could go to write – especially if it had no internet to distract me. But she’s now a wealthy widow in her fifties. She could afford to live anywhere on Manhattan. The ridiculously modernistic apartment she did buy and live in for one night before scurrying back to her bolt hole was so obviously not Carrie it was a very bad joke.

Anyway… Despite the three women now annoying me in equal measure (oddly I’ve warmed to Antony, who I never used to like), I decided to stick with it until Carrie put herself back in the dating pool, which she now has. 

You have to be a Brit of a certain age to get this.

It’s over.

Last year, when the reboot was announced, a friend sent me this piss take that was doing the rounds.

At the time Martin Scorsese’s excellent documentary about Fran Lebowitz was topping the Netflix charts. I told my friend that was a show I would watch.

Now I desperately wish it was the show. Can you imagine Fran in the midst of these three moaning minnies, chain smoking and telling them all, in a way only Fran could, to get the fuck over themselves? That, my friends, would be quality television.

Back to Netflix (might even watch Pretend It’s a City again to get the taste out of my mouth) and BritBox. 

PS Read the comments. Yes, I did leave out the excruciating worst of it.

From → Blog

4 Comments
  1. Donna permalink

    I never watched the original tv series even though friends kept urging me to give it a try. I think I got through about half of one episode and just couldn’t see what the fuss was about. Must have been me, since most women I knew were devoted fans, but I just couldn’t connect with the endless whining and fashion obsessions.
    I imagine the reboot would be painful.

  2. John Galpin permalink

    Visiting daughter in Birmingham this weekend I asked her about this as whilst living at home years ago she watched every episode. She said that the first film was vaguely tolerable but the second unspeakably terrible, beyond appalling and two hours of her life wasted spent at a cinema that she’d never get back…so then I showed her your blog.

    • Ah, yes, the second film, which was indeed unspeakably terrible, so much so I couldn’t bring myself to mention it. I may never get those two wasted hours of my life back, but at least I waited until it turned up available on the telly, so I didn’t also waste a tenner at the cinema.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: