Old School. Biblically Independent.
By Chris Revelle | TV | August 15, 2025
And just like that, HBO’s And Just Like That… comes to an ignominious end. When a teen character named Epcot (sigh) eats too much cheese and then clogs up Miranda’s toilet so that it overflows in a revolting mess, it’s a moment all too representative of this show. It seemed impossible, but the series that plumbed new depths of vapidity and inanity somehow broke through whatever mantle of good storytelling still existed. And Just Like That… tapped into a molten core of rotten, lazy writing that erupted all over the finale like an uninspired, sweaty volcano. Left in its wake, we can’t help but wonder, what was the point of any of this?
It’s arguably a question that’s been with And Just Like That… since it began, with its tenuous connection to Sex and the City and an utterly chaotic approach to the televisual arts. For two seasons, the series was a dumpster fire that was at least entertaining in its ill-conceived decisions, but the third season changed all that. The third season saw fit to drain whatever blood and spark the show had, making the series miserable to watch. It became the Carrie & Aidan Show, a black hole that devoured and replaced whatever worked about And Just Like That. Blessedly, the finale doesn’t bring that doofus back into Carrie’s life, but it does something just as bad: it flails in his absence.
Carrie enters a restaurant alone, seeming deeply perplexed by the idea of dining without a partner. The restaurant helpfully (or piteously) seats a stuffed animal in the seat across from Carrie’s in her booth so that she isn’t entirely alone. Is that better? I’m not so sure. Eating alone can be awkward, but a plushie would probably make it feel even weirder. She spends a great deal of this episode spinning out over her single status. While at an incredibly on-the-nose wedding gown runway show with Seema, Lisa, and Charlotte, Carrie begins to sort through her feelings a bit. Strangely, the four friends pair off to have separate conversations with wildly different conclusions.
Seema and Carrie discuss marriage and whether people are socially conditioned to want it. Seema’s learned that Adam Gardens doesn’t believe in marriage, and she’s unsure how she feels about that. She loves Adam and wants to be with him, but she admits she used to fantasize about the romance of a wedding day. When asked why she got married, Carrie replies that it meant she was “chosen.” That’s a deeply sad reason to get married! Later, Carrie goes to check with Adam about where he stands, and he reaffirms that Seema’s not a short-term commitment but “a lifetime.” We later see Seema spending some time with Adam and his family. Hooray!
Over in Charlotte and Lisa’s conversation, the two women compare their respective dramas and wonder whether they would recommend marriage to younger people. The conversation implies that their issues are comparable, but it doesn’t track. Charlotte’s family struggling with Harry’s cancer diagnosis is a very different thing from Lisa’s workplace flirtation. They agree they would absolutely get married again because they love their lives, regardless of the struggles.
This somewhat cavalier attitude carries over into the rest of the episode, wherein virtually every plotline is summarily wrapped up. Harry can get an erection again, so progress is being made in his recovery. When Charlotte sees her child, Rock, in a femme costume during a play, she reactivates her early-season confusion about Rock’s gender identity, but it’s resolved with a quick discussion. Lisa tells her work crush Marion that they need to pump the brakes, and she recommits to working through her rough patch with Herbert. Miranda and Joy reflect on how they’ve become a part of each other’s families, seemingly wiping away all of Joy’s agita about kids. Anthony’s concerns about replacing Giuseppe’s mother are similarly dispelled when Giuseppe smushes some cake into Anthony’s face. Sure, why not? Nothing means anything on And Just Like That… anyway.
The climactic Thanksgiving dinner at Miranda’s could have been a great place for all our New York ladies to reconnect, but it’s mainly a comedy of errors. One of Joy’s dogs swallows something it shouldn’t, so Miranda leaves to take them to the vet. Carrie and Mark, some goober that Charlotte is trying to set Carrie up with, are the only adults left to wrangle Brady, Mia, and Mia’s obnoxious friends. After Epcot clogs Miranda’s toilet, poor Mark is unlucky enough to be on it when it overflows. Everyone hustles out, and Carrie helps Miranda clean up afterward. They chat, and for a moment, viewers get a too-brief glimpse at what the show could be if it refocused on these friendships.
Carrie wanders home, turns on the karaoke machine, and has herself a time with music and pumpkin pie. Despite spending the episode wallowing in misery about being single again, she edits the epilogue of her ridiculous novel to say, “The woman realized she was not alone, she was on her own.” This is a welcome turn, but there was absolutely no work done to build up to it. Carrie’s happiness seemed to revolve around whether she had a man in her life, until suddenly it didn’t.
It’s fitting for And Just Like That… to meander into an ending it didn’t earn, but it’s certainly not satisfying. It seems like the finale was made before the series was canceled, but it isn’t easy to believe it would have been any better if the writers had known. Thus, And Just Like That… ends with nothing to say, having done nothing worth remembering, and leaving behind the lingering feeling that audiences have been had. Neither the hate-watchers nor the Sex and the City die-hards could be satisfied with this bland pile of mush, but perhaps we can all be a bit happier that it’s finally done with.
