This year, I, emulating Carrie Bradshaw herself, am bidding adieu to expectations. However, unlike ol' Car Bear, the feline-parenting maven whose kitty's moniker hovers between Shoe and Shoo (a detail still shrouded in ambiguity), my resignation from expecting stems not from future uncertainties or life's inevitable surprises. Nay, the expectations I'm shedding are those I harbored for this very show. Once you release the notion of how 'And Just Like That…' ought to be—a coherent spiritual successor to 'Sex and the City'—and embrace it for what it truly is—a chaotic tale of a woman hesitant to utter the words "vaginal suppository"—the viewing experience becomes infinitely more delightful. Surrender to its waves! Let 'And Just Like That…' breathe! Trust me, it's far more enjoyable. Otherwise, I'd be fuming over how the highly anticipated Last Supper at Carrie's former abode, teeming with potential for melodrama and mayhem, instead offered a mundane attempt at introspection, devoid even of a single indulgent food porn shot. It fell woefully short. Yet, that's beside the point, for farewell to expectations… hello, Samantha Jones!
Oh, heed me now, I'm aware Kim Catrall's cameo lasted but a fleeting minute, yet wasn't it exhilarating to catch a glimpse of her once more? It seemed Samantha intended to astonish Carrie by jetting in for the Last Supper, but London's foggy embrace grounded her planes. Nonetheless, her "fucking fabulous" declaration and the nostalgic nod to Annabelle Bronstein, the English imposter she donned to gain SoHo House pool access in 'SATC's' sixth season, were treasures. Yes, it was brief, but oh-so-sweet. In that solitary minute, Catrall infused the energy that 'AJLT' sorely lacks. Perhaps, the best things really do leave us yearning for more.
The same could be said of this Last Supper. With every main cast member present, yet scarcely anything happening, I craved hijinks or at least a death-defying spectacle! Or, minimally, a stroll down memory lane within this iconic setting. I'd fancied Carrie prompting her guests to recount memories of the apartment, given its farewell party ambiance. At least, it might've helped Lisette comprehend the weight of her inheritance. Mostly, I longed for apartment tales, imagining Che's reaction if she recounted finger-fucking Miranda in the kitchen! Imagine Harry's face during that revelation! Alas, all we got was Charlotte mentioning Chinese takeout on the floor, while others remained indifferent to the apartment's stories. Instead, Carrie assembled 13 closest pals, many newly acquainted over the past two years (a fact Carrie might ponder deeply), and tasked them with sharing one word encapsulating what they wished to release. If this is adult dinner party culture, count me out!
This exercise, admittedly, served as a concise check-in on each storyline. From a recapper's lens, it was highly efficient, if not thrilling. Che kicked it off by waiving "the rules", to which I ponder, what rules had they adhered to thus far? Certainly not the comedy ones! While I had hoped Che and Miranda's first encounter post-comedy fiasco would spark more fireworks (I swear, I'm letting go of expectations), they handled it like mature adults. Upon arrival? Miranda found Che in their former finger-fucking nook, and they reconciled. Che vowed never to crack those "jokes" or discuss Miranda on stage again. Apologies were exchanged, a heartening sight! They acknowledged their relationship as a train wreck, yet meaningful (huh?). Che insisted their "jokes" were hilarious, on-brand as ever. Reader, I chuckled incessantly, although not the laughter Che sought, but hey, laughter Nonetheless, isn't it?
Regardless of the circumstances, Miranda is fulfilling her pledge to cease excluding people from her life abruptly. Earlier in the episode, besides her encounter with Che, she pays a visit to Steve at his new Coney Island digs, where they share a heartwarming, conclusive conversation and mutually agree to maintain a friendship. Following these interactions, it seems fitting for Miranda to relinquish "guilt" as she strives to ensure her past regrets do not impede her future. By the episode's conclusion, she delivers an impressive interview for BBC News on behalf of her job and indulges in drinks with a potentially flirtatious undertone with Joy, whom we previously met when Miranda was at the UN. Miranda has come a long journey from her season's inception, where she resembled a sluggish entity emerging from a sensory deprivation tank. The outlook is promising!
Miranda's roommate, Nya, is letting go of "yesterday," not quite the dramatic "needing a fully fleshed-out character" transformation one might have joked about. She finally gets substantial screentime in this episode, which has been sparse throughout the season. Nya celebrates a significant victory at work but is crushed when she realizes she has no one to share it with. However, her fortune reverses when, lo and behold, Toussaint, the Michelin-starred chef preparing dinner for Carrie, turns out to be the attractive guy she met at a bar earlier in the season. Initially, she rejected his advances due to her marital uncertainties, but now, the two are on the brink of passionate intimacy at the dining table, discussing olive explosions, much to Anthony's amusement who urges them to find a more private space.
Elsewhere, LTW, akin to Miranda, is letting go of "guilt," haunted by the specter of having induced her own miscarriage. She actually utters the word "miscarried" in this episode, marking a slight shift from her reluctance to use the term "abortion." Though this storyline still feels somewhat forced, we eagerly anticipate what season three might bring for LTW. Meanwhile, Anthony is surrendering "control," and Guiseppe is bidding farewell to "Rome," indicating their profound love, Guiseppe's resolution to stay in New York, and Anthony's readiness to tear down his emotional barriers and lose his "ass virginity," how endearing.
Seema is letting go of "distrust." Since confessing her love first to Ravi, she has been in a tailspin. Carrie, offering advice from an unlikely source considering her own chaotic life, urges her friend to gather herself. Seema's fear of loving Ravi deeply, fearing he could be the person she has been waiting for all her life, is causing her to withdraw. However, Ravi clarifies that he feels the same way about her. Despite his upcoming five-month stint in Cairo for a movie project, he promises to return because he loves Seema. Their affection, though somewhat underwhelming given Ravi's limited personality traits like answering phones, discussing the Sphinx, and scarf-wearing, is cute nonetheless. If Seema is content, so am I!
And then, there's the host of this modern-day Last Supper, Carrie, playing the role of And Just Like That's Jesus Christ, if you will. Carrie is letting go of expectations, believing that sometimes, things surpass one's wildest dreams. It's a heartwarming sentiment tinged with a subtle dig at her late husband. Alas, shortly after her significant dinner, Carrie learns that letting go of expectations is easier said than done. Aidan arrives from Virginia, quite literally throwing stones at her window, and yes, he steps into that Apartment of Misery one final time. However, her triumph is fleeting. He brings news that prioritizes his children, meaning he won't return to New York anytime soon and prefers she doesn't visit him in Norfolk due to potential distractions. Instead, he asks her to wait until Wyatt is no longer a teenager—five years. By then, he claims, he can cease prioritizing his kids. Prioritizing one's children is commendable, but asking a woman to wait five years for you? That's cruel! Especially after she sold her apartment to purchase a grand new one for them. Five years is an eternity, no matter how romantic Aidan tries to make snapping his fingers seem. No one can pull off snapping as sexy; trust me, I've tried!
Yet, Carrie is all in. No boundaries are clearly defined in this arrangement—might she share intimate moments with others? Does he genuinely not desire her company even once in five years?—nevertheless, Carrie stands committed to awaiting her lover's return. She harbors no qualms about reigniting her romance with Aidan nor about purchasing her new abode, a stark departure from her immediate doubts about her entire marital past after mere weeks of rekindling with him. (Admittedly, I'm not the biggest advocate for Big, but, goodness!) Thus, only time will unravel whether these two souls can truly make their unusual setup thrive.
Mercifully, the episode concludes on a far more gratifying note: Mimicking how 'And Just Like That…' embarked on this season, we bid adieu with a grand montage brimming with sex, love, and mobile phone setups. Everyone appears to be getting precisely what they desire. Speaking of desires, the episode wraps up with Carrie and Seema, both anticipating the return of their men, finally spending summer together. Though they opt for Greece over the Hamptons, cosmos are still very much in order. You can take the girl out of the city, but the city spirit remains, and so forth.
