The two series on this page are used today to talk about a third. The unmentionable becomes more apparent the more you try to dodge it, so let’s save the feints and face reality: we’re talking about And Just Like That…
The sequel to Sex and the City premiered its second season a few weeks ago. A delivery that, let’s also be clear, does not deserve to be designated as the worst series of the week. Neither sit on the throne of the best. And Just Like That… doesn’t even make a series of the week. Its predecessor is, however, one of the series in the history of television.
The HBO Max application recommends both of them to me on its cover. The new one because it’s on promotion (and because I see it); the classic one because I haven’t stopped going back to it in the last 25 years. Which are the ones that have happened since its premiere, back in the distant today 1998. Sex and the City is prior to The Sopranos, Six Feet Under and The Wire, but that is not why it is not frequently included in the canon of the golden age of HBO. With those other three cathedrals, the series created by Darren Star shares totem status. But Sex has an advantage: you can wear any loose chapter at any time and fun is guaranteed. How many series can boast of that?
In a promotional interview for the new season of And Just Like That…, Sarah Jessica Parker was asked about the moment in which accepting the role of Sex could have been for her giving up her film career. For her then, signing up for a television fiction was not only a long-term commitment but also a change in the perception of her as a star.
Parker was afraid of the seven-year contract that series stars usually sign, but at HBO they promised her that they would go year by year and that she could get out of the car whenever she wanted. 25 years later, Sarah Jessica Parker is still riding that bandwagon. She now, in fact, she owns her and many other things. The fortune of the New York diva (she is both in reality and in fiction) is estimated at 200 million dollars. I suppose that every time I watch, for the umpteenth time, an episode of Sex and the City, I contribute to making Parker a little richer. I do it gladly.
The SJP Expanded Universe includes, among other things, a shoe company, another terrific series on HBO (Divorce), and me buying tickets to her London West End theatrical debut with Plaza Suite, in which she shares the stage with her husband Matthew. Broderick. All of this wouldn’t exist if she hadn’t said yes to that script that she received in the late 90s. “It’s television, but it’s extraordinary,” she probably thought. And she was right. Sex in New York was, is, and will be extraordinary. The years have been wonderful for her and she can never be highly recommended. The 200 million dollars of Sarah Jessica seem few to me.
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