That Carrie took him back after he left her at the altar in the first movie sequel, and that she compromised herself to fit his marital ideal in the second, did little to assuage disappointment.
Then “And Just Like That …,” the 10-part HBO Max follow-up series to “Sex and the City,” was announced, and rumors quickly swirled that Big was going to be killed off.
I had hoped that after years of heartache and accommodation forced upon her by this man she simultaneously won over and settled for, Carrie would instead finally realize she had always deserved better, and she would walk her sky-high stilettos out the door.
Allowing that development to stand, however briefly, allows us to witness Carrie’s apparent success — all hail the conquering hero! But allowing it to stand much longer might have served as a perpetual reminder of what made their relationship so controversial: Carrie’s constant self-debasement through the better part of six seasons and two movies, as she convinced herself that if she only worked hard enough, waited long enough and acquiesced enough, she could change Big.
Of course there’s a glaring absence: Samantha Jones, played in previous installments by Kim Cattrall, who left the franchise amid a very public feud with Parker.
Or maybe she was just sick of third-wheeling with her boring married friends and needed to move on, and the overseas job thing is just a pretext.
Much of what has been reported about the relationships among the series’s core four actors is hearsay and speculation.
Regardless of the reasons for Samantha’s departure, it is relatable.
With that out of the way, the episode moves at a rapid pace, making little room for subtlety or nuance when it comes to situating the characters in this new stage of life.
Carrie is still in the media game, but she has parlayed her success from print columns and books into a steady podcast gig and healthy Instagram following.
Charlotte is mostly still Charlotte, living a lovely life in a Park Avenue palace with her adoring husband and girls.
If Miranda’s gray hair and fine lines aren’t enough to alienate her from her Gen Z classmates, the racially insensitive rambling she spills onto her Black professor, Nya Wallace , certainly solidifies it.
Considering the original series is riddled with dated, problematic references, and that the second movie was slammed as, at worst, offensive, and at best, insensitive, the still largely white cast couldn’t burst into this series completely enlightened.
In all other regards, the first episode is largely lighthearted until the very end, when Big suddenly drops his phone, has a heart attack and dies.
Much as they did when Big no-showed his wedding to Carrie in the first movie, Carrie’s fiercely loyal friends, Miranda and Charlotte, are right by her side in this time of need, literally, sleeping next to her in shifts as she navigates her new role as a widow.
Knowing Big would have hated a stodgy old funeral home, she throws a modern if somewhat unfeeling affair to commemorate Big’s passing — an event through which she does almost no crying.
Late in the episode, as Charlotte pushes this theory once again, Carrie relieves her of her pain, saying she isn’t mad at Charlotte but at herself for not switching off the people-pleaser inside her and leaving with Big, as she wanted to.
mom Lisa Todd Wexley — her allotted friend or colleague of color for the series — into her new BFF.
Other characters are facing deeper issues.
Meanwhile, marriage is not so blissful for Anthony Marentino who bicker at every turn, even on a “good night,” only to be reminded by Big’s passing that they’re lucky to have each other.