… and just like that is the worst show on television, and I can’t stop watching

I’m no stranger to bad TV shows. I once wrote a whole scared here in /a movie about how “Emily in Paris” by Netflix (A show with a sly connection can hardly be called “Sex and the City” in its original form) even a TV show, because there are no poles and nothing ever happens and includes a zero narrative structure at all. I’m even once Awdl to Carrie Bradshaw Sarah Jessica Parker. (I also like “Vanderpump Rules.” I think it’s one of the best TV shows ever. Fight me!) For the better and definitely for the worse, I’m a bit of a TV expert who makes me want to use bleach -infused eyes or throw my television out of a fifth Drew window. This brings me to “… and just like that,” continued Michael Patrick King of the adventures of the New York City of Carrie.

“… and just like that,” unlike “Emily in Paris,” is actually a TV show. That’s not a certification; I only specify a fact. It has several story lines that cross over from season to season. Despite some truly ridiculous issues with the lifestyles of the main characters (which I will reach), actions have results. There are some semblance From a narrative here, although the bar is to be cleared – the one set by Darren Star French farce, I mean – how low she is hell. The fact that “… and just like that” is not legally defined as a TV program does it good, nevertheless. It’s terrible. It’s honest, one of the worst things I’ve ever watched. Each episode feels like a descent into some kind of pedlam I am ready to bring myself when I remove HBO Max app and press play.

I can’t get enough. A perverse, dark, and horrific part of me is “looking forward” to every new chapter of “… and just like that.” I will watch each episode until the star stops or is asked to stop in a court of law or something. I would even watch every second of this slope if Che Diaz Sara Ramírez came back, although the mind just about that character makes me tremble. I feel a strange need, chewing for every half hour of “… and just like that” given to me by the HBO gods. Let me explain … or, at least, try to explain.

I’ll be back up for a moment. For those who do not interfere (I mean healthy and probably adapted people), “… and just like that” restart from “Sex and the City.” The series is being pioneered by Michael Patrick King, who took over as Showrunner on “Sex and the City” after Darren Star’s departure when the third season ended, and ends Sarah Jessica Parker back as Carrie Bradshaw as Cynthia Nixon as Miranda Hobbes and Kristin York. (Prescott John was murdered “Mr. Big” by Chris Noth at Diseremony by a fraudulent Beloton at the beginning of the reboot, and Kim Cattrall refused to flat Apart from Gameo Season 2 That I had hoped that she netted a funny amount of money for her.) Set years after the original show and her two big screen adaptations, “… and just like that” explores Carrie’s life as a widow, her continuing, long -standing friendship with Charlotte and Miranda, and new links to friends such as Seema Patel (Sarivey) and Lishurer. On the surface, this doesn’t sound that bad. It is, though.

The playful spark that made “Sex and the City” a feeling – a has turned Parker and her colleagues into stars Along the way – there is nowhere to be found in this bright, shiny restart with no substance or humor. Whenever the show makes a joke, he cannot bring himself to trust the audience alone and identify it, immediately spoiling it. (In the Third Season’s Second Episode, Ceri Oteri’s Matchmaker is named Sydney Cherkov, and the series Sparingly in the original series, like when Miranda says she wants to ghost a nun recently seduced only for carrie to reply that he would be “holy spirits.” (The only response to that, honestly, is “Jesus Christ. “))

“… and just like that” us be a little more tolerable – and only a few – if he didn’t have to stand up his own predecessora show that, in his very best moments, was full of life, emotion and surprise; Even his final season shocked viewers in the Standout episode “Splat!” Instead, it often feels lifeless, especially as elegant performers as Nixon’s sleep path through their scenes. (I will give Davis a little credit, which slips back into lovely matching sets and too big Charlotte belts as if she never left) she also feels … strangely pointless, which makes sense when you consider the show to be originally to be one -season miniseries. So why can’t I stop watching it?!

I know a lot of people who watch “… and just like that,” and anecdotal, none of them like it. One friend recently sent me a text after watching the episode and saying, “How many weeks of this torture? 10?” I responded, “Yep. Can’t wait.” (That one friend asked if she could “launch herself to the sun” after just 10 minutes from a recent episode.) Another message me to talk Smack about the Nonconformist phone scene between Carrie and her long-lasting flame Aidan Shaw-John Corbett, who re-presided his original role of “sex and the city” in the long term and see the long term The long-term long term see the long-term long term that sees the long-term long-term see it-in the long term that sees the long term-in the long term see it-in the long term and see the long term seeing it. (Aidan has all this thing where the two need to be separate for five years so he can handle some things with his children, but want them to go no contact and … you know what? It’s not worth explaining. Too ridiculous!)

My point here is that I guess we are all sticking to this show because it’s really fun to cut it up, something it’s not true of “Emily in Paris” because there is nothing that happens on that show is memorable enough to mock it. Here is an example: In a season 2, “Crisis” for this band of rich rich people was that they had to … walk … to the Met Gala. (To be clear, One of these random New York would never be invited to the Met Gala.) Because of this, we had a handful of mind pieces, and I can tell you that my phone’s text warning has turned off quite a bit after that episode broadcast. This is to say nothing about the Che Diaz of the whole (including the time they grab with Miranda in the kitchen of Carrie while the latter is peeling in a water bottle), the complete dismissal of David Eigenberg’s beloved Steve, or the time Charlotte does stilettos to sprint through Flizzard and buy condoms for his teens. The one Saving grace “… and just like that” is that, at the end of the day, it is fun to talk about how truly terrible it is.

As conflicted as I feel about this, I am on this journey for the long journey. I’ll still watch “… and just like that” and text my friends for whatever strange lower -blot the show’s writers throw in on any given week. If you’re curious, it streams on HBO Max-and if you hate watching properly along with me, then you get it.