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And Just Like That… recap: This show is trying to do too damn much

Once again, Nya and Seema are brushed aside in a ridiculously plot-packed episode

And Just Like That… recap: This show is trying to do too damn much
Sara Ramirez Photo: Craig Blankenhorn/Max

I will admit that there are plotlines this season that have caught and held my attention. The Carrie-Aidan relationship proved to be more than a glorified cameo and has instead provided thoughtful reflections on love, friendship, and how your perspective changes with age. Charlotte (Kristin Davis) has had a lovely and often funny arc from momager to working mother trying to make her family see her as more than an extension of their own needs. Lisa’s (Nicole Ari Parker) battle to have and do it all is crushing her in a way that feels completely relatable.

And yet…

There’s too much going on! In this episode, we have all of the above, plus: Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) plans a final dinner in her apartment, Che (Sara Ramirez) returns to standup, Steve (David Eigenberg) opens a new food joint on Coney Island, Seema (Sarita Choudhury) accidentally says “I love you” during sex, Nya (Karen Pittman) receives a baby shower invite from her ex, Anthony (Mario Cantone) squabbles with his lover because he doesn’t want to bottom, Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) feels insecure about both her exes while also taking on new challenges at work, and for some reason, we find out that Stanford has become a monk, disposing of his character forever after Willie Garson died during the filming of season one.

It’s too much. Very few of these characters are getting a fair shake because there’s just not enough screentime to go around. Nya is awesome, but what have we watched her do this season besides have sex and make a chocolate soufflé? That’s not a character! If the writers could just cut out a few people to give more real estate to the more interesting things happening—for the love of god, please let Seema have actual space to breathe on this show—everyone would be better for it.

But let’s get into it. Carrie and Aidan (John Corbett) are preparing to move into “our new place,” the massive four-bedroom apartment she bought because he still won’t set foot in her pad, the site of their past demise. Carrie has sold said apartment to Lisette (Katerina Tannenbaum), the cool girl downstairs, for a price that seems to enrage Seema, but all seems well between the couple, save for some rising tension with Aidan’s difficult 14-year-old, Wyatt. I’ve seen a lot of people argue that Aidan was a horrible match for Carrie because he always wanted her to be someone she wasn’t, and even Aidan seems to realize that now. He says he made mistakes by trying to lock her down with marriage or even the lease on the apartment.

But right in the middle of this reflection, he gets a call from his ex-wife who tells him that Wyatt crashed Aidan’s truck into a tree. Apparently he got into a fight with his mom, hitch-hiked the 30 miles back to his dad’s farm, drank some beers, and then tried to drive the truck back to his mom’s. Wyatt broke his collarbone and his leg in two places, and Aidan is beside himself with grief and guilt that he should have been there to intercept his son. Carrie, fielding his call from their new bedroom, is worried about them for the first time. If they’re going to break up Aidan and Carrie again, it will be nice if it’s for a real practical reason like him not willing to put the distance between him and his sons, as opposed to Carrie just being a complete asshole. Again.

Meanwhile, Charlotte is in the middle of selling a painting to Sam Smith when Rock (Alexa Swinton) calls to say they forgot a notebook at home and need Charlotte to drop it off. Charlotte calls Harry (Evan Handler) and tell him that he needs to help Rock because she’s in the middle of something at work. Harry balks, and Charlotte understandably starts to tear him a new one about the load she’s had to carry as a mom. Let me just save both of you some time and offer you a page out of my mother’s playbook: Refuse to bring the forgotten homework and let them take the bad grade. They’ll learn the lesson, and you won’t be fielding these calls for the rest of your life. Parenting!

Lisa is dealing with her own version of this struggle because she finds herself pregnant right as her career is taking off. She’s worried about how she’ll be able to deliver a 10-episode PBS documentary with three older kids plus a newborn. “I will be missing deadlines, I will be pumping around the clock, I will be failing at both jobs,” she laments to Charlotte. “I thought it was finally my time.” Oh, Lisa. This is so hard.

It comes to a head when Lisa is tossing and turning in bed and Herbert (Chris Jackson) asks her what’s wrong. She demands to know why he didn’t get a vasectomy after the birth of their daughter eight years ago, and he admits he wasn’t sure if she changed her mind after she got through her postpartum depression. Lisa doesn’t know how she’s going to make it work, and Herbert offers this gem: “If anyone can do it, you can. And I’ll be here to help.” Here to help! Like it’s her job and he’s just along for the ride. This absolutely made me see red. When that doesn’t appease her, Herbert asks if they should be having a different conversation—and that he will support her in whatever she does. They never use the word “abortion,” but it’s very clear that’s what they mean when Lisa hugs and thanks him and says that while she’s thought about it and is glad to have the choice, she couldn’t go through with it.

And here’s where I’m going to get irritable. Why the fuck not? Later in the episode, Lisa and Herbert go to the hospital because she’s bleeding and something is wrong, clearly setting up the couple for a miscarriage. Well isn’t that convenient? If Lisa’s character is against getting an abortion, even though she very clearly does not want another child, for religious reasons, tell us that. Otherwise, And Just Like That missed an opportunity to showcase a wealthy mother of three choosing to have an abortion for the simple reason that she wanted to focus on her career without having to worry about a pregnant and infant in her forties. Wouldn’t that have been something?

And finally, we have Miranda. Miranda is a mystery to me, I will admit. In the back half of the season, she feels like the old Miranda—driven, judgy, cynical. But even as she makes strides in her new work as a human-rights lawyer, the reckoning of her behavior feels light. What does she think about not just her time with Che, but also her move to Los Angeles and her detour from all her previous choices? How is she feeling about the aftermath of her marriage? We don’t see Miranda grappling with this at all. It feels hollow.

After Nya comments that Miranda cuts all her exes out, Miranda decides to join Carrie and Aidan and Che’s first standup show in a while. Che does not know Miranda is in the audience, so when they launch into their routine with, “I just got out of an eight-month relationship with a married straight white woman,” things get uncomfortable fast. The harshest part, without a doubt, is: “She was confused about everything, and I was confused about why I was fucking her.” Why was Che ever into Miranda, especially in a serious capacity? Apparently, even they don’t know.

Miranda understandably leaves, and Che sees her on her way out and abandons their set to catch her on the street. They have a bit of a yelling match, and once Miranda is gone, Che’s new love interest runs up to ask if they’re okay. “Why am I always having to explain who I am?” Che asks, angry that Miranda doesn’t understand what a standup does, just like they’re angry at the vet at the clinic constantly having to be reminded of their pronouns. I just don’t understand why Che is a main character on this show now. What. About. Seema?

Stray observations

  • When Miranda’s boss comes back from maternity leave after five weeks, she’s feeling a little insecure. “How much time did you take?” “Twelve weeks,” Miranda says. “Felt like 100.” I get this sentiment personally, but I also find it icky to normalize five weeks of maternity leave when that is really not normal. After five weeks, you’re not even cleared to have sex yet.
  • Carrie wins an at-home dinner prepared by a Michelin-star chef for 16 people. She asks, “Do I even know 16 people I want to eat with?” Relatable.
  • Seema comes to Carrie’s apartment and says there’s been a disaster (telling Ravi [Armin Amiri] she loves him during sex), and Carrie immediately jumps to the conclusion that something is wrong with her new place. Carrie, not everything is always about you. Let her speak for the 30 seconds she’s onscreen, please.
  • When Seema shares very mild sex details, Carrie is like, “Please, I’m eating.” Babe, I’m begging you, a sex columnist, to please grow up.

 
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