“And Just Like That …” Is Over — and I’m So Relieved!

When I learned that HBO Max had up and canceled And Just Like That… , the first three words out of my mouth were: “Oh, thank God!”

I’m not joking. My heart was flooded with an incredible sense of relief. It was one of those hushed, lark-who-is-learning-pray moments — the sort you experience when you’ve been freed of a burden of suffering you’ve carried for a long, long time. Three seasons, to be specific. Finally (I continued, speaking to myself in an odd, elated daze), Sarah Jessica Parker’s Sex and the City spinoff was going to be put out of its misery — and, perhaps more to the point, I’d be put out of my misery, too. I’d no longer have to think about it. A win-win, in short.

This may sound ridiculous, but it’s true: I always found watching And Just Like That… stressful. Parker and a small army of smart, talented people seemed to be perpetually struggling to make And Just Like That… good — instead of just good enough. Why couldn’t they get the thing to work? That hadn’t been the case with Sex and the City, which was like a magically replenishing cosmo that you could sip year after year. And Just Like That… never went down with that bracing smoothness. Imagine that you’re sitting at a bar, open to whatever adventure the night may bring you, and a wonderful-looking stranger across the room starts flirting with you, sending over odd, fussed-over drinks — a paprikatini, maybe.

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Of course, there was still the series’ finale to look forward to and consider — at least that might leave audiences with a blissful, parting image of Parker’s Carrie Bradshaw. Would that image be soft and romantic or possibly bittersweet? Parker is such an appealing actress, with her winsomely chic tristesse, that I was prepared to like just about any conclusion. After all, it wasn’t as if Carrie would throw away her fabled Jimmy Choos, put on some Red Wing boots and find work as a lumberjack, the way Dexter Morgan did at the end of his original Showtime series.

I’m happy to report that Parker’s closing scenes were lovely — there she was at a runway show of bridal gowns, looking wistful and somewhat ashen as she doubtless reflected on what Joni Mitchell has called “the ceremony of the bells and lace.” And there she was, dancing around her oversized Gramercy Park home, alone, content that she might never find Mr. Right or even Mr. Wrong. The scene momentarily made me think of Barry Keoghan at the end of Saltburn, prancing naked around his manor with Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s “Murder on the Dancefloor” blaring on the soundtrack. But I blame that on Keoghan, not Parker, who was exquisite.

But her grace notes weren’t enough. What I wanted, really — all that I wanted and, I suppose, needed — was something to banish the show’s many peculiar lapses (including this season’s masturbating puppeteer) from memory. But no: With 15 minutes or so to go, the show delivered an unforgettably, unforgivably gross plumbing mishap at Miranda’s Thanksgiving dinner. This, believe it or not, built on another tasteless joke that came shortly before, when a random dinner guest complained about the nasty intestinal kick of the evening’s cheese selection.

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I suppose you could say I still feel relief, now that I’ve waded through the sewage of the finale, but it’s more like the kind of relief you’d associate with a laxative. Is that a cheap shot? Yes, I suppose it is, but no more vulgar than And Just Like That… last night.

It should be noted that Kim Cattrall‘s Samantha didn’t appear in the finale, although the actress’s irresistible camp spirit had haunted the series from the start. That would have made a daringly memorable conclusion: The ladies sitting around a table, Sopranos-style, anxiously wondering if Samantha had put a hit on them. Given all the fuss, you wonder why the show’s production team couldn’t have just recast the role. Did anyone reach out to Revenge’s Madeleine Stowe? Or, going out on a limb, what about Judge Jeanine Pirro? She’s busy now, but then?

The show was, at best, a noble defeat for its thoughtful, glamorous, hard-working star. To quote a line from Carrie Bradshaw’s novel-in-progress: “She had done all she could.” Only it wasn’t enough.

And Just Like That… is streaming in full on HBO Max. Additionally, Sex and the City and its two film installments can also be viewed on the streamer.

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