The Evolution of Miranda and Other Characters in “And Just Like That”
Back in 2022, a colleague of mine, Meghan O’Keefe, expressed regret over the transformation of Miranda Hobbes, Carrie Bradshaw’s pragmatic best friend. The series Sex and the City underwent a notable change in And Just Like That, leaving Miranda, played by Cynthia Nixon, seemingly unrecognizable post-divorce from Steve.
Now that And Just Like That is wrapping up, I have mixed feelings about Miranda. At times, she feels somewhat familiar again, especially in her budding relationship with a new character (played by Dolly Wells). Yet, there are moments that feel off, particularly in her interactions with her son Brady, where her priorities seem misplaced. Over the past three seasons, we’ve witnessed various iterations of Miranda that sometimes feel disjointed. There was that time she hooked up with Che while Carrie was recovering from surgery, turning into the kind of person who pushes friends into karaoke just to justify her own drinking habits.
It’s not just Miranda who has undergone a transformation. Another character, Aidan, portrayed by John Corbett, used to be the quintessential nice guy. However, this season, his less appealing side emerged as he and Carrie tried to rekindle their romance. His behavior raised questions about whether his country-boy charm still held value. He created barriers in their relationship, often reminding us of how she hurt him before. We watched him engage in strange antics, from questionable phone calls to rehashing old dramas with his ex-wife. These actions complicate his legacy, making it difficult to feel affection for him like we once did.
In And Just Like That, Carrie’s relationship with Big also raises questions about true love. When reflecting on Aidan, you can’t help but wonder if he was, in fact, the one. The show seems to rewrite this history a bit, and while I can appreciate that happiness doesn’t solely hinge on needing a man, part of me wishes for a more relatable version of Aidan to make an appearance, where he respects Carrie and truly embraces his fatherhood.
The term “fan service” has gained prominence, especially as sequels and reboots became commonplace. For those unfamiliar, it essentially refers to the practice of rewarding dedicated fans with familiar references or character returns. Many fans, including my friends and I, have discussed how this particular series has disappointed us. There are things that didn’t sit well, such as Carrie’s interactions that seemed off, and the use of certain pronouns as punchlines throughout the series. Despite these frustrations, the biggest concern remains the characters themselves; we’ve lost some love for them along the way, and ultimately, that erodes our trust in the writers.
On our group text, we reminisce about our passion for the show. We were all in, eagerly anticipating each episode, and critiquing character actions that felt out of sync with what we knew. We clung to the original series’ spirit, and perhaps our expectations were a bit high. Maybe our nostalgia set standards that were tough to meet. Sex and the City was once an event we looked forward to every week, with its personal connections making us invested, leaving us frustrated when it strayed from what we loved. We’ve often found ourselves annoyed with the creative team, especially when they defend choices that irked us.
But like Carrie, as the series draws to a close, it’s apparent that some things are just hard to reclaim. It’s unrealistic to expect the same feelings we had in a different era. I do wish the writers hadn’t made certain characters so unlikable. As time moves on, and with the absence of certain key characters, it feels as though we can’t go back to what made the original special.
I went into this reboot with excitement. Yet, each passing episode has nudged me to accept that discontinuation might be for the best. Just like Carrie and Aidan’s relationship, blending past successes with present realities seems complicated.
