MIA FREEDMAN: My complicated feelings about And Just Like That.

It’s season two of And Just Like That and this show definitely hits different now that COVID is officially over. 

When season one landed last year, we were all still a bit shell-shocked. Emerging from our bunkers, blinking into the sunlight. And after the initial surprise that human women look older 20 years after we last saw them together, the comfort of familiar characters wearing ridiculous clothes was intense and glorious.

My reaction to season two has been an identical journey to season one. “I’ve never hated anything more” was the gist of my texts in my group chats about three minutes into the first episode, which felt like it was trying way too hard to put the sex back in the city.

What other show features a cast of women in their 50s? Image: Instagram/justlikethatmax

 The writers clearly read the feedback forms about season one, which can be summarised like this:

1. We hate Che.

2. We hate Sad Carrie.

3. We miss Samantha.

4. There are too many characters.

5. Where is the sex and the fun?

6. How could Miranda leave Steve?

7. WTF is a comedy concert?

Having spent the past few years working on a TV show as an Executive Producer and spending time in writers' rooms, reading scripts, talking endlessly about character arcs and watching casting tapes, I have more sympathy than the average viewer for the creators of this show.

I understand why they killed Big – for the same reason they had to kill Patrick in Offspring. You have to give your main character obstacles to overcome because a show about someone with no problems is boring. The writers had to blow up Carrie and Miranda’s life in season one of AJLT and poor Che was just the messenger who got shot.

Hey! It's Che! Image: Instagram/justlikethatmax

Admittedly, their f**kboi character was annoying AF and was done no favours by writers who didn’t seem to understand what comedy was when it happens on a stage. But who among us has not climbed into a getaway car driven by an idiot before realising it months (or years!) down the road and clambering out at the nearest petrol station, slightly mortified at our poor judgement but relieved to be away from our old life nonetheless. Thanks for the lift! Byeee!

My hatred for the first couple of episodes was a lot. And one thing I’ve learned about myself is that when I have BIG NEGATIVE FEELINGS about something, it’s less about the thing I hate and more about something it’s touched in me.

After spending a wee bit of time in the hall of mirrors, I landed here:

I am a 51-year-old woman who is trying to work out what it means to be a 51-year-old woman in 2023. Some days, especially working in the media surrounded by women decades younger who seem so effortlessly cool and use words and phrases I don’t understand, I feel 100. Other days, I feel so f**king great about being the age I am and feel an extraordinary kinship with other Gen X women.

And it’s this conflict that I think is reflected in the reaction of a generation of women who want Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda to look exactly as they did 20 years ago but are aghast when they use injectables to try and do that.

"It's hard to be confronted with your younger self at all times. And it's a challenge to remember that you don't have to look like that. The internet wants you to – but they also don't want you to." – Kristen Davis. Image: Instagram/justlikethatFor female celebrities who became famous decades ago, photos of their younger selves are all over the Internet and weaponised in cruel Daily Mail headlines like, “Kristen Davies Doesn’t Look Like This Anymore!” – which invariably means that she is a human woman who got older. For the rest of us, images of our younger selves are in our minds to the point where it can be a shock to see our reflection or a photo where the reality is so far from the age we feel.

I’ll be honest though, watching And Just Like That, it’s also a shock to see women my age who look my age. Sarah Jessica Parker claims not to have had any work done and I believe her. It’s sometimes jarring to see Carrie looking very much like a woman in her 50s. Same with Seema.

And Just Like That, I realised, I am asking way too much of this show.

I want the characters to be the same but then I get frustrated when they are; Carrie’s girlish banter, silly puns and inability to say the word vagina is maddening, and unlike any woman I know in 2023. Why does Miranda still have to have red hair but also, why has she abandoned her career for love?

"Hi, I'm Miranda and I used to have a job." Image: Instagram/justlikethatmax

How can Charlotte still be so permanently surprised by the world but also, why is she now the only OG female character who can talk about sex and bodily functions without having a fainting spell?

By episode three – where Carrie struggles with her identity as an older woman after being seemingly lumped in with ladies on walking frames by her old editor, Enid – I realised that watching this show is a lot like Carrie’s attitude to jizz.

Ultimately, like an annoying old friend, I would miss it if it was gone.

I enjoy hanging out with these characters, but mostly, I enjoy watching a show and looking at the faces of women in their 50s who aren’t being raped or murdered or mocked for being Karens. And why would I complain about that?

What's not to love about a show with a pigeon purse on someone's head? Image: Instagram/justlikethatmax

Feature image: Supplied, Instagram/justlikethatmax

Do you have any Streaming Video Services in your household? e.g. Netflix, Binge, etc. We want to hear from you! Take our survey now to go in the running to win a $50 gift voucher.