And Just Like That...It's Over

Well, it’s over.

The fever dream is done.

“And Just Like That” showrunner Michael Patrick King announced that season 3 would be the last of the series, with two episodes left.

“And Just Like That” turned into an appointment hate-watch streamer early into its first season.

I made TikToks about the episodes in season 1. One of them received 1 million views.

I discussed the show on my podcast, realizing that I enjoyed the show partly because it provided me with something low-stakes to get angry about.

The show premiered in 2021. One year into the world shutting down, there were plenty of real-world, high-stakes things to make the blood boil. AJLT elicited anger, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t cruel. It didn’t hurt anyone. It created a community of hate-watchers that sparked a particular kind of joy.

By season 2, the show was so off-putting that I couldn’t even bother to make videos. I kept watching, mystified by the tone-deaf, overwritten, self-conscious plots.

Season 3 was solid proof that we were no longer watching Carrie Bradshaw on screen. Carrie morphed into Sarah Jessica Parker if SJP lived alone in a cavernous Gramercy Park house and had a stick up her ass.

Carrie/Sarah was no fun at all this season. I missed her enough to rewatch Sex and the City. Carrie/Sarah’s morose energy was at an all-time high in season 3. Remember, (spoiler alert)…her husband died in season 1, she had hip surgery, and she still seemed chirpier than she did in season 3.

The show’s writers seemed to be trolling us.

Why were the core women barely together? Why was Charlotte loopier than Lucille Ball, and Miranda more spineless than a jellyfish? Why was Carrie so mean to Miranda? Why did Rosie O’Donnell sing “For Good” from Wicked in Times Square?

We’ll never know, we’ll never know, we’ll never know. (If you watched episode 10: See what I did there?)

I feel a little sad because in an alternate universe, And Just Like That could have been a good show. It could have said something about women over fifty that was relatable, even inspiring. Carrie could have matured without morphing into the actress who played her.

And the woman in the novel Carrie wrote all season could have had a name.