Skip to main content

Sara Jessica Parker: "And Just Like That"

 People around me ask, "How can you continue to watch Sex and the City?"


My husband waded through the recent season premiere, then said, "I can't anymore. I'm pulling the plug."

We were at dinner, and the table next to us had four gay men; the men complained about Charlotte's dog and about the way Aidan almost shat himself during phone sex. (In fact, I sort of liked the phone-sex flatulence.) The discussion became a six-person discussion, as Marc and I piled on. "To think this was the PREMIERE! Someone behind the scenes thought.....this is our BEST material, so we need to pack it into the first hour...."

I'll tell you why I stick with Carrie Bradshaw. It's because Michael Patrick King is a gay Irish (lapsed) Catholic voice--and there just aren't so many of these voices in the entertainment world. His interest in farts, adult diapers, erectile dysfunction, and "the wild CUNT-ryside" just speaks to me; his words have a way of tapping into my DNA, my genetic heritage.

I think it's best to imagine that the new season is not a season. There is no real story. No one is behind the steering wheel. Instead, it's just a collection of vignettes; most are failures, but some are intriguing half-failures.

For example, the story about Charlotte's dog. I can see what happened. Someone on the staff had a weird run-in at the pet salon--and someone else said, "This could be a story about cancellation." Tell the truth, but tell it slant. So many people write about being cancelled--but who on Earth has applied this story to the existence of dogs? (I even appreciate the "false clue" in this odd mystery story. Charlotte begins to doubt her own dog when the dog gets frisky with an "American Girls" doll in an Upper East Side home. But it seems the doll has just recently tangoed with a slice of raw beef. So: don't draw any conclusions about the dog.)

I *can* imagine someone on Madison Avenue trying to blacklist a neighbor's dog--via Instagram posts. The problem is that this vignette isn't grounded in character; we don't really learn anything about Charlotte, and we certainly don't learn anything about her nemesis. The material would be better adapted to a "Saturday Night Live" skit.

Am I thinking too much about Carrie and Charlotte? Maybe so. In any case, I'm still watching.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...