Season Five, Episode Four: Cover Girl

The Summary:

Oooh, this episode is partly about books! Yay! I love books! I mean it's not primarily about books, so much, but there is a big scene which takes place in a bookstore, and several of the major plot points center on books in some way... so I am going to call this episode in favor of books. Wahoo! Goooooo, Team Books!

ANYWAY. To move on from books (if such a thing is ever possible...?) We begin with Carrie, who is thinking about the cover for her, well, BOOK. (So I guess we're not really moving on from books. Excellent!) For said cover, her publishers have proposed that they photoshop her head onto a model's body, and have "her" standing naked in the middle of an NYC street. Even though this idea is proposed by the lovely and amazing Amy Sedaris (whom I am sooooo glad is still here--yay, hopefully well-paid cameo appearances by delightfully wacky, off-beat stars!), Carrie, unsurprisingly, finds this concept everything but loving and amazing. Good call, Bradshaw, and well done putting your Manolo Blahnik heel firmly down on this one. Next!

So Carrie laments to Samantha about her Book Cover Woes, and Sam 1) being Carrie's generous friend, and 2) being a high-powered publicist muckety-muck, offers to help Carrie craft her cover look, gratis. Awwwww. How nice of her!

Except, of course, this niceness quickly devolves into sourness and unpleasantness as 1) Sam and Carrie learn just how different their concepts of what a "sexy but tasteful" book cover might look like are (Carrie: more in the "artsy Vogue photo shoot" vein. Sam: more in the "make the heels on those furry mules HIGHER, dammit!" vein. I see.), and 2) when scooting over to Sam's office for a business meeting, Carrie walks in on her giving a blow job to a Worldwide Express guy (so named so that neither FedEx nor UPS would sue, one supposes...?) Of course she does, I am told that this is behavior which high-powered female executives often engage in outside of cheap pornography. [At this point in the proceedings, Head and Desk stage a touching reunion.]

Carrie is appalled by what she has seen, and treats Sam oddly in consequence, all the while pretending that she is not appalled by what she has seen, and is actually completely non-judge-y about it. (While being, in reality, totally judge-y.) Sam is not fooled by said facade of non-appallment and non-judge-y-ness, however, and finally gets Carrie to admit that she did judge Sam for engaging in a random sexual act, with a stranger, in her office, with the door unlocked for the love of Pete, woman, have you no common sense.

Sam, who had previously been all "how dare you set boundaries on my sexual freedom, I shall wear no scarlet A in your presence, my puritanical friend!" about the incident, eventually confesses to Carrie that sometimes she judges herself for her sexual behavior, and that her break-up with Richard is still messing with her head/mucking about with her behavior. Hmmmm. As we shall discuss in the analysis, I... don't know quite how to feel about that! All I know for sure is that this episode makes me super glad that the most embarrassing thing anyone has ever walked in on me doing in my office involved me eating a muffin--and no, that is not a euphemism for anything, clean out your mind with soap!

Anyway. Are you ready to talk about Miranda and Charlotte now? Good, I hoped you might be. So Miranda, panicking about her "excess" "baby weight" [blogger pauses to note, once again, that Cynthia Nixon looks totally awesome in Season 5, and always, and that all of this falderal about her being somehow portly is totally annoying and ridiculous... also the very concept of "baby weight"--stupid. Baby-having changes women's bodies, and that is okay, people], has decided to join Weight Watchers. Okay, if you must... that seems like a moderately more healthy decision than going on the No Food diet, or similar.

While at Weight Watchers, Miranda meets the charming Tom, who is fetching, sarcastic, and pleasantly unpretentious. Soooo... you know instantly that everything to do with him is inevitably going to end in tears, do you not? Ah, dear readers, you are quick studies! The writers can pull nary a bit of wool over your eyes.

Because it turns out that 1) Tom overeats whenever he gets criticized, and 2) Miranda decides to offer him some constructive criticism about his cunnilingus technique. (Yes, I did just type that/you did just read that.) It seems that he... how to put this delicately? [Blogger pauses, and realizes that there is no way to put this delicately.] It seems that he does not remove certain essences off of his face after performing this act, and before kissing Miranda. I see. I would do my usual "I am told that is very common" here, but... I kind of hope that it is not.

So Miranda--armed with advice from her friends--while praising Tom's dexterity to the skies, suggests that they introduce our friend The Tissue into the bedroom. Tom, of course, promptly freaks out, and breaks up with Miranda. Boo. Ah well. Saw that one coming a mile off. Buh-bye, Tom! Godspeed working on... um, everything in future!

And... onto Charlotte. Not much to say here, except 1) (I don't know why I am numbering bloody everything in this post, but it just feels right) Charlotte has been reading self-help books, to, well, help her make her way through her divorce. Good for you, Ms. C, that seems like a healthy and productive step, if you're finding said books helpful!, and 2) when she sees the kinds of people who peruse the self-help shelves in her local Barnes and Noble (yay! BOOKSTORES), and finally registers the fact that her bookshelf is now filled with missives which prominently feature the words "desperate women"--she decides to stop reading self-help books, cold turkey. And throws one such book out of her apartment window, to symbolize her liberation from the genre. Great idea, except 1) YOU COULD KILL SOMEONE, and 2) libraries need donations more than random passers-by on the street need brain damage...?

And--brace yourself--there is an ACTUAL STANFORD SUBPLOT IN THIS EPISODE. Yay! I love Stanford, and we see not nearly enough of his delightful self. So Stanford has a new boyfriend, who is 1) a dancer, 2) gorgeous, and 3) very sweet. Is it possible the writers feel a flicker of guilt for all the humiliation and sorrow which they have heaped upon Stanford's head over the years...? Can it be true...? Perhaps we can dare to dream...?

The Analysis:

LGBT Folks Watch: Stanford, and his lovely boyfriend, Marcus. Yayyyyy!

"I Will Not Be Judged by You, or Society": Condemning Ladies' Slutttttttiness Watch: As alluded to before, I am a wee bit conflicted about the plotline in this episode about Samantha and her slutty, slutty ways. Shall I take you inside said conflict, very likely against your will?

On the One Hand: Carrie is totally right to judge Samantha for giving a random guy a blow job in her workplace, with the door unlocked, because that is ridiculously stupid and unprofessional.

On the Other Hand: Maybe Carrie isn't totally right to judge Samantha on the grounds of engaging in casual sex with someone she doesn't know? That's just kind of Sam's thing, and who are we to condemn her for it...? Everyone involved is consenting adults, so who cares...?

On a Non-Existent/Mutant Third Hand: Can we split the difference between "I don't want to slut-shame anybody, darn it!" and "It is kind of gross to engage in lewd acts in the middle of the workday, within mere feet of other people, who are innocently trying to do their (non-blowing) jobs" and say that what seems the most disturbing to me here is that Sam propositions this gent, not, it seems, out of genuine desire, but more because she still feels sad and confused about Richard, and just wants to feel something and to be with someone, even if it is only in that fleeting, casual sort of way. Yup, I think I can live with that one. And, with a sense of happiness and relief--let us therefore move on!

Icky Discussions of Weight Watch (See What I Did There? Weight... Watch? In An Episode Which Features Weight Watchers? PUNS): Various things about this episode, and how it grapples with the issue of weight, make me uncomfortable. Shall I enumerate these for you, very likely against your will?

1) I have this prickling, uneasy sense that one of the many things which dooms Tom as a romantic prospect for Miranda is the fact that he is overweight. I don't want to be too quick to judge and condemn the writers here (okay, let's be truthful, I love to judge and condemn the writers, both here and everywhere), because, to be fair to them (see! I try to be fair!), Tom's primary flaw is that he turns out to be loopy, rather than that he is "fat." And goodness knows, the show has exhibited a veritable parade of loopy men over the seasons, most of whom were most certainly not fat. And yet... I am still somehow haunted by the sense that there's just no way that the show, the season, or even the episode, would have ended with Miranda with a fat boyfriend. And that is lame. Lame, I say!

2) Also lame is the fact that Charlotte's first clue that reading self-help books might not be for her is finding a plump woman crying in the self-help aisle of B & N, and proclaiming that such books have really helped her. We are clearly meant to take away from this that the trim, pretty Charlotte most certainly does not belong in the same category as this untrim, not-conventionally-attractive woman--and that is lame. Lame, I say!

Yet More Anxiety and Neuroses About Age Watch: In tussling with Samantha about what would and would not be an appropriate look for her book cover, Carrie proclaims (as Sam tries to push something equal parts sheer and skimpy on her), "It's time for ladies my age to cover it up." Shall I confide my responses to this statement to you, very likely against your will?

For one thing, that is kind of rich coming from someone whose navel I have (literally) been gazing into all season, and who ends up on her book cover wearing only a shirt and high heels. For another thing, as someone who teaches college kids, I would like to proclaim that it is time for people of every age to cover it up. I do not want to know one single, solitary thing about my students' underwear, at all, EVER. And yet, given their choice of attire, somehow I do. And that is WRONG--pedagogically, ethically, sartorially, and in every other way imaginable.

And for yet another thing... hmmm. While not myself being a fan of anything in the "Let us show yet more skin! More, I say, more! Let complete strangers see the small of my back, why not?" school of fashion, I do resent a leetle bit the idea that this is an age-specific thing. If a twenty-something starlet wants to wear a low-cut dress, fine. If Helen Mirren wants to wear a low-cut dress, equally fine. (Helen Mirren can do basically whatever she wants, of course, since she is quite ridiculously awesome.) Shouldn't what one wears perhaps... be about what makes one feel comfortable and confident and great? And not about issuing all the over-35s with mandatory turtlenecks...? Maybe, possibly, perhaps...?

Notable Quotables:

Stanford, when Carrie is fretting about being judgmental: "We all judge, that's our hobby. Some people do arts and crafts, we judge."

Stanford, entering the room as Carrie is changing into and out of potential cover outfits: "Nothing in here I haven't seen and ruled out in junior high!" (Have I mentioned that I love Stanford?)

Next Up...?: "Plus One is the Loneliest Number"--an episode which I will candidly tell you right out of the gate that I really, really like, for the following NUMBERED reasons: 1) because it introduces Carrie's newest love interest, sardonic writer Jack Berger--with whom I am very much taken, meself, 2) because it features lots and lots of cupcakes with little sugar shoes on top of them (two of my favorite things, in one delicious package!), 3) because it includes Samantha Jones wearing a wacky black hat with a MASSIVE veil, which makes her look like the oldest living Confederate widow, and 4) because it reveals to us that the writers have not yet broken up Stanford and his charming boyfriend. Good news, all around!

Season Five, Episode Three: Luck Be An Old Lady

The Summary:

Are you ready to head off to Atlantic City, dear friends? (Something which, loyal and devoted Jersey Girl that I am, I must confess that I have never actually done. Don't tell anyone, they might revoke my official Proud New Jerseyian Badge!) I do hope so, for it is off to my dear native state we are, where the ladies will wear unfortunate belly shirts, gamble more money than they likely ought to, and angstily obsess about a wide variety of issues. To the casinos!

So do you remember how we left Carrie, at the end of our last episode, feeling more hopeful about the world (in general) and her romantic prospects (in particular)? Yeah, scratch all that, she has since plunged right back into all things Cynical and Skeptical. (Le sigh.) With her dating life looking particularly bleak, Carrie is getting ready to just throw up her hands and give up on luvvvvv altogether. Why risk the rejection and hurt and boredom of the dating world when she knows she's always going to have a lovely time hanging out with her friends? (Samantha's two cents on that one? "Aw, honey, you're cute, but I'm never going to fuck you.")

In the spirit of renewing her posse's (currently rather frayed) bonds of friendship, Carrie proposes (and then forcibly insists on) a group trip to Atlantic City. Her friends are mired in a variety of their own crises, but eventually agree to go, nonetheless. Pack your bags, friends and your various issues--we are on the move!

Miranda is actually super happy to go, as it will be her first solo trip away from home since she had young Master Brady. She loves the little mite, but hot damn if she is not looking forward to getting to sleep uninterruptedly the whole night through, and actually get to read that pile of New Yorkers which have been forlornly accumulating on her nightstand.

Her only point of unease is that she's still not happy with how she looks, post-baby--living in our culture of constant "How I Got My Bikini Body Back TWO MINUTES Postpartum" magazine covers, Miranda is unsurprisingly self-conscious that just after having a baby she... looks like she just had a baby. (Because she did just have a baby, for the love of Pete.) One night in the casino, some jerk makes a crack about her "fat ass," and her friends round on him like the Furies in a particularly cranky mood. And quite right, too! Darned jerks! Shut (what I believe the kids today call) your pie holes! (And on a separate note--pie.)

Charlotte, meanwhile, is about to turn 36 (about which... mavel tov, Ms. C! Or, wait, you're not Jewish yet, so, um... Protestant congratulations unto you!), and is royally freaking out about same. Convinced that men are more interested in meeting 35 year olds than 36 year olds (?), Charlotte has decided to let her birthday slide this year. I see.

Terrified of becoming, as she puts it "an old maid," whilst in Atlantic City, Charlotte decides to 1) wear as little in the way of clothing as humanly possible, and 2) flirt with any and every man who looks her way. Does this nab her the man of her dreams? Um, is the series over yet? Of course not, on both fronts--so the episode ends with Charlotte still uneasy with the fact that she is growing older and as-of-yet unwed (though happily having thrown out the god-awful lame dress which she'd slapped on at one point. My eyes, oh, my eyes! How they did suffer from it!)

Samantha, meanwhile, is still with Richard (head, desk, I believe you two have met?) He's also in AC while the ladies are there, and Sam spends a goodly proportion of her trip running after him, terrified that if she leaves him alone for more than two seconds, he'll cheat on her again. After gadding about like an anxiety-ridden whirling dervish several days, Samantha decides to break up with Richard, again. For good. He reminds her of his charming promise that he will try not to cheat on her (ah, a promise to warm the heart of any lass!), tells her he loves her... to which Samantha sagely replies "I love you, too, Richard. But I love me more." And... Jones out. Buh-bye, Richard! See your slimy face in Season Six!

So what has Carrie been up to while all of this is going on? Musing about what it means to grow older and be alone, musing about the meaning and significance of friendship, musing about love and the lack of it. (Oh, and also wearing a fringed belly shirt makes I think may have rendered me temporarily blind. Will nobody think of my eyes???) Beginning the episode thinking "Love! Bah humbug! Pshaw, I say to love--pshaw!", Carrie ends it by thinking that maybe love is still worth aspiring towards, after all. In a show centered around its heroine's romantic quests... I cannot say that this shocks me! Let's see if we can keep that fragile sense of hope and belief alive until the beginning of our next episode, hmmmmm?

The Analysis:

People of Color Watch: Carrie's renewed sense that maybe love is something worth fighting for, after all, is in large part inspired by listening to a (clearly long-standing) couple having a charming conversation one night while she is out on the boardwalk. Both the gent and the lady are African-American... and are actually dressed in the way in which normal people would dress, to go walking on the boardwalk on a chilly evening. It seems someone is thinking of my eyes, anyway!

Old Maid Language, How Delightful It Is! Or, Sorry, Is Not, I Meant, Is Not, Watch: I do appreciate the fact that this episode actually does consciously reflect on the fact that there is a significant linguistic disparity in how single women of a certain age, and single men of a certain age, are referred to in our culture. After Charlotte's "I must avoid old maidhood as though it were the Black Death!" speech, the other ladies muse over just why it is that men get to be "bachelors," whereas women have to be "spinsters." Ooooooh, I know, I know! Call on me, call on me! It's because... our society is messed-up and sexist and has really weird ideas about female aging! And... one point to me, I think. (And to the writers, for explicitly engaging in a candid discussion of sexist double standards. Points for everyone!)

"Charlotte's Thirty-Faux Birthday": Female Aging in Our Creepy, Youth-Obsessed Culture Watch: Perfect timing for me to talk about this particular episode during this particular week, as my particular self just turned the particular age of 30 (please send your gifts to Back on Carrie's Stoop, care of the Cranky Feminist Bloggers Network. What I really want this year? For that ghastly-sounding SATC prequel show to not actually get turned into a real live television program. Please please please, universe, work with me on this one!)

I think the episode does a really nice job of representing Charlotte's queasy distaste with the idea of getting older in a culture which insistently links women's sexual desirability with their youth. Hoping to get hitched and have herself some youngsters, watching her age tick upwards causes some distinct panic over in the Land of York.

And the writers do a good job of handling that panic, I think--once again, they're not mocking Charlotte for having the desires which she does--they respect the fact that getting married and having a family are high on her list of priorities--but they do nonetheless raise questions about how she chooses to cope with this newest milestone in her life (maybe trying to change her entire personality, and lying to herself and others about her age is not the best way to go?), and implicitly criticize a culture in which a woman like Charlotte (who is a smart, interesting, good person) is made to feel that her "stock" is falling in the dating "market," simply because she's no longer 25. Wow. My 30th birthday present? I think I just got it, right there! (I wonder what the writers will dream up for me for Christmas? Ooooh, I hope it's a pony!)

Valuing One's Own Mental Health Above Gentlemen Who, Though Admittedly Are Snappy Dressers, Have No Moral Compass or Ethical Principles Watch: The breakup between Samantha and Richard was inevitable, of course--the writers would never keep Sam off the market for too long--but how much it delights me to see it take place, nonetheless. Richard is (and always has been) so clearly Bad News, that it is a pleasant thing to have Samantha tell him to take a hike--permanently, this time. (Okay, permanently till Season Six, but still--progress.)

It's interesting to see Sam's journey here, from thinking that she can totally cope with her dashing boyfriend occasionally cheating on her, to realizing that she just can't--that spending her entire life wondering when his next infidelity is coming will give her multiple ulcers, and cause more grief and pain than being with him is worth. Now if only we could have gotten Carrie to have a similarly healthy attitude towards Big earlier on... oh, wait, then we pretty much wouldn't have had a series! My mistake! Carry on with your self-destruction, Bradshaw!

"My Ass is Fat Because I Just Had a Baby, You Asshole": Grappling with Women's Bodies in a Realistic Way, Thank God Watch: Love this episode, too, for the way it continues to muse over Miranda's post-baby life. (I am just full of love, here--perhaps it is because they set this here episode on my beloved home turf? That may be it!) I enjoy how it shows Miranda and Steve's ongoing, awkward adjustment to parenthood (Miranda, trying to persuade Steve that he can take care of the baby all by himself while she is away: "Look, we're both afraid we're going to kill the baby. Monday through Friday, I try not to kill him, Saturday and Sunday, you try not to kill him.")

They both adore the wee lad, but that does not mean that they are not both scared out of their bloody minds by the responsibilities of parenthood, and eager to take some breaks from it. (Sinking into reading The New Yorker uninterrupted on the bus into AC, Miranda has clearly achieved a state which, if not quite nirvana, is certainly next door to it. She has clearly not read a complete sentence in months, and she is happy to do so.) Love the acknowledgement that parenthood... can be stressful and challenging! And that sometimes parents stand in desperate need of what I believe is sometimes unfortunately called "me time"!

I also appreciate that they directly tackle the fact that Miranda's body has (gasp!) changed from having had a baby, and that that's hard for her, given our culture's general body MADNESS when it comes to the ladies, including the pregnant and post-pregnant ones. Cynthia Nixon herself was enceinte when Season Five was filmed, and, needless to say, looks totally gorgeous--but not at all wire hanger, "what is this thing you call 'flesh'?" like. Neat to see one of the main heroines of a major tee-vee show looking plausibly like a woman adjacent to motherhood, who did not immediately follow birth with either lipo or a Pilates class. Well done, my SATC pals!

Also nice to have one of the big moments of the episode be the ladies bawling out a guy en masse who dared to taunt Miranda about her body. Fun for them (and for us) to see them attacking a gent for thinking he has the right to say anything about any woman's body, and particularly for mocking a woman who's just recently given The Birth. (Of course, this scene takes place with Charlotte wearing a dress in which you can see every bit of her clavicle and sternum in quite painful detail, and Carrie wearing a belly shirt which reveals not one inch of non-toned skin... ah, contradictions. Why must you always be present, hmmm? Can we never persuade you to take the day off? What can I do to persuade you to get lost? Would it help if I wore an unflatteringly-cut glittery belly shirt...?)

Notable Quotables:

Charlotte, after Carrie suggests that they just "skip all the drama" of relationships, and just focus on their friends: "But I don't wanna skip all the drama. That's life, that's everything, that's relationships and anniversaries and kids... And I want all that, in addition to my friends."

Next Up...?: "Cover Girl," in which Carrie judges Samantha for being so sluttttty (bad), much amusement is derived from Miranda dating a nice gent she meets at Weight Watchers (also bad), and Stanford has a beautiful new boyfriend, who actually seems really, really nice (and... we have suddenly swung to the good! Success in our time!)

Season Five, Episode Two: Unoriginal Sin

The Summary:

Who's ready to go to a christening? You are? Well, aren't you in luck, because off to a christening we shall soon be! But not before we get some angsty stuff about The Hopelessness of Existence and The Bleakness of Life in first. Le sigh. Why must you smother every ray of sunshine with a dark cloud, writers? Why, I ask thee--why???

Anyway. The beginning of the episode finds Carrie, as she tells us, "one bad date away from bitter." She is feeling rather hopeless about her love life, fed up with the overall mid-thirties dating scene, and generally full of Gloom, and its close friend and companion, Doom.

And as is so often the case, just as she is beginning to think that life is all lemons, the universe goes and dumps a bucket of lemonade over her head (thanks, universe!), when she learns from her editor that a publisher is interested in collecting a selection of her columns into a book. And that the editors at said publishers are played by the charming Molly Shannon, and the brilliant Amy Sedaris. (Lucky lass, that Carrie Bradshaw!)

Her task now becomes the writing of a preface, which will set the overall tone of her pending book--is the book hopeful about love? Not hopeful? Semi-hopeful? Demi-hopeful? Carrie is not sure, and keeps finding herself totally stuck whenever she tries to hash that out.

In the end, however, a combination of attending Brady's christening (about which, more anon), and spending some quality time with the ever-sunny Charlotte (about which, also more anon) convinces our Ms. Bradshaw that there is tentative cause for hope in the universe, after all, and that as such, she can write an upbeat preface for her book in good conscience. This is what we like to hear! Three cheers for hopefulness, no matter how wan of a strain of hopefulness it may be!

So what was all that which I just said about wee Baby Brady getting himself baptized? Miranda is not religious at all, and Steve is a distinctly lapsed Catholic... but lapsed or not, he makes a big push to get their wee lad baptized, nonetheless. When Miranda brushes this off as a patently ludicrous notion, Steve sensibly points out that it's a nice ceremony, will give their friends and family a chance to gather to celebrate the bundle of adorableness that is Brady, will score said adorable Brady bucketloads of presents, and is also an opportunity to have CAKE. So... baptism it is!

Rather to her surprise, Miranda 1) finally ends up meeting Steve's mother (who, to our pleasant surprise, turns out to be the hi-bloody-larious Anne Meara), who, it transpires, is an amiable, if also perpetually tipsy and foul-mouthed, lady; and 2) finds herself moved by the ceremony and the chance to officially make her good buddy Carrie Brady's godmother. Also, the post-baptism cake looks DELICIOUS. Victories all around!

Charlotte, meanwhile, has fallen under the spell of a creepy self-help guru, who is some kind of unpleasant blend between Suze Orman, and that nutty woman who wrote The Secret. (For the record, I have nothing against Orman's books or ideas--I value someone telling me in words of one syllable what the Sam Hill to do with my meager cash as much as the next clueless, math-is-my-doom humanities person does--they just made this episode's creepy guru look like her is all.)

So this nutty guru's whole shtick is that if you believe that good things will happen to you hard enough... said good things will actually come to pass. (In that case, where is Jon Stewart with my daily delivery of vegan donuts, hmmmm?) Charlotte tries to sell Carrie on this idea, and she is, understandably, skeptical about it. She nonetheless agrees to accompany Charlotte to one of the creepy guru's lectures... where, it transpires, she becomes more skeptical still.

After Charlotte tentatively asks the guru why it is that even though she believes in love and hopes for love, she has not yet found love, and the guru nastily shuts her down by saying that she just must not be trying hard enough, Carrie sticks up for her. Charlotte is doing all in her power, Carrie notes, but sometimes, even that is not enough.

Depressing, I suppose, but I am much happier to settle on a "sometimes bad things do happen to good people" type message, than I am to queasily hover over a "if you don't get everything you hope for in life, it must be because you are somehow fatally flawed" type message. Because (looking to both my left and my right) I cannot help but notice that neither Jon Stewart, nor my donuts, have yet arrived. Alas! Another bubble burst, another dream shattered!

Samantha, meanwhile, is back with Richard. (As Charlotte puts it, "Richard whose death we've been plotting?") He fed her some rubbish line about how he got scared of their emotional closeness, and as such went running off to sleep with other ladies. (Of course, I am told this is a very common reaction to any form of masculine emotional discomfort.) He says he loves her, and will do his best not to cheat on her anymore. Samantha: buys this line. Her friends: do not. I: side with her friends.

Sam spends the entire episode 1) admiring the gorgeous diamond which Richard got her as a "we seem to be back together again, apologies about the whole 'cheating' thing" present, and 2) worrying that her friends are right (hint: THEY ARE), and that Richard is a sleazeball who is not really that sorry about having cheated on her in the first place, and fully intends to do so again. But at the end of the episode... Sam is still with him. Good call, Jones! I am sure that is going to work out reeeeeal well. (Hint: IT ISN'T.)

The Analysis:

Radically Inappropriate Garments to Wear to Religious Ceremonies Watch: So Carrie wears a very low-cut black dress to Brady's christening (black? As someone who has worn black dresses to weddings because Vogue said I could and I have a couple of really nice black dresses, okay?, I will let that one slide, but very low-cut? Must we? You are going to be in all the christening pictures, missy, I do not need to see acres of your flesh in said family snaps.) She also wears a cracked-out fascinator, however, which gave me pleasant flashbacks to the Royal Wedding. Le sigh. No one does cracked-out pseudo-hats like the British do cracked-out pseudo-hats.

"He Got Scared?!?": Male Excuses for Infidelity Being Total Bullshit, and Pleasantly Being Identified As Such, Watch: So I must say that I love and welcome the fact that Richard's whole "well... I just couldn't handle emotional intimacy, so therefore my screwing-around on you is totally justifiable, and also, I am probably going to do so again in the near future" is regarded very negatively by all of our ladies (except for the willfully clueless Sam.)

Given the ways in which the show has, in the past, sailed perilously close to actually endorsing a biological-determinism-style "men are just different, sometimes they simply cannot help their manly selves!" permissiveness when it comes to radical male misbehavior... I am glad to see the writers clearly showing us that Richard is a jerk, Sam is being naive and rather foolhardy to trust him again, and that her friends are quite right to think he is an unpleasant gent she would be better off without. I do like to see a spade called a spade/a cheater called a cheater!

"From a Bakery in... Queens": Denigration of the Boroughs, and By Extension, Some Icky Class Politics Watch: As aforementioned, I think Anne Meara is delightful, and she takes every scene that she is in as Steve's loopy and inappropriate mater and walks clean off with it. (And that is with Cynthia Nixon in the room... so no mean feat!)

However. Putting one's praise for Ms. Meara to one side, I will take a moment to sourly note (I do love me some sour noting!) that there does seem to be something rather troubling, in the ways in which her Queens-based self is represented. For one thing, the fact that she is, in fact, from Queens, is the source of much bemused comment and not a few jokes, and Queens itself treated as an alien and bizarre landscape by our leading ladies. Please, my friends. Manhattan is splendid, but from what I've heard, it's dizzyingly pricey self is not the beginning and end of the known universe. Give the anti-Borough thing a rest. (Not that they will, brace yourself for some potent anti-Brooklyn rhetoric anon!)

Steve's mother also seems to be persistently coded as "vulgar" and "low-class" in some ways which I find rather problematic. She drinks like a fish. She curses in church--in front of the priest. She wears an unflattering, circa 1950 hairnet in public. She goes on a rant about how she doesn't have a problem with her African-American daughter-in-law, which makes it clear that she really does have a problem with her African-American daughter-in-law. And having one of the very, very few non-affluent, non-posh-Manhattanite characters be a drunken, cussing racist with zero fashion sense... somehow does not sit quite right with me. Ah well. Plenty of more opportunities for me to be thus offended because Steve's mum... will be baaaaaaack!

Notable Quotables:

Carrie: "Maybe it's not advisable to be an optimist past the age of 30." (Fie on that, missy, I turn 30 in a few short days, and I'll be darned if I'll give up my Pollyanna-like, sunshiny attitude for love or money. I will cling to it with both of my increasingly withered hands--cling to it, I say!)

Miranda, on what Steve's mother is like: "Imagine Steve... in a wig... drunk!" She is also a redhead, I feel compelled to note, and therefore that much more AWESOME.

Next Up...?: "Luck Be An Old Lady," in which the ladies (I refuse to use the word "old," these women are in their thirties and forties for the love of Pete) venture to my beloved native state to enrich its national economy through gambling. Woooo! Gamble recklessly, women of NYC! Pour money into Atlantic City's needy coffers! Oh, and in addition to that, there is some stuff about aging and loneliness and new motherhood and creepy, cheating boyfriends. Sounds like a whirligig of Jersey fun to me!

Season Five, Episode One: Anchors Away!

The Summary:

Hello, dear readers! Are you ready to embark on our whirlwind tour through Season Five? Ah, Season Five. Such a short season (a mere eight episodes, and yet I will point out that the DVD boxed set costs just as much as the boxed sets for the seasons which had eighteen episodes. Not cool, HBO. Not cool.), but such an interesting one! There is much for us to discuss, to be sure!

So this, our very first episode, begins with Carrie, out and about on the town as a single lady... actually enjoying the fact she is alone. (The time to put on your best shocked and horrified face... would be now.) On a Friday night, she takes herself out to a movie, and sits there contentedly munching away on her popcorn, unruffled by the fact that she is surrounded by couples. Contentment! Comfort in one's own skin! Happiness with one's own life! Clearly... this cannot last.

And last it does not, as the writers/the universe conspire to punish her for at once being happy and single. (How dare she, I mean, really!) Carrie decides to take a random weekday to enjoy strolling around the city, visiting an art museum, and so on, and so forth (the living is good when you are a freelance writer in TV Land, clearly!)

Naturally, this all massively blows up in her face, with her getting caught in a rainstorm, embarrassing herself by nattering away about love and destiny to a handsome stranger (as one tends to do), to the point where he flees from her in exasperation, and encountering a truly scary Ghost-of-Christmas Future-style elderly single lady in a cafe. Said lady, we learn, broke up with her last boyfriend (one is lead to assume, during the Eisenhower administration) in the hopes of finding someone better, and consequently is now stuck sitting around forlornly in public eateries, dusting her ice cream with lithium. As is typical of single womankind.

Shaken by these encounters, Carrie agrees to go to a big party thrown by a bunch of sailors during Fleet Week (as one will), dancing and flirting at said party with the dashing Louis. Louis is charming, and they have a nice chat about love, and fate, and New York (which does NOT cause Louis to flee in terror, notably), during which Louis reveals that he simply cannot stand the Big Apple. At which point, Carrie instantly nixes him as a romantic prospect, musing that while she's not sure about what her romantic future holds, in many ways, New York is her true love, and "I can't have nobody talking shit about my boyfriend." Buh-bye, Louis! Have fun being beautiful/putting your foot in your mouth about people's beloved cities of residence elsewhere!

And what of the other ladies, you gently inquire? Well, Miranda is a brand-new mom, and finding her adjustment into mommyhood a bit bumpy. For one thing, it turns out that breastfeeding is actually pretty darned hard sometimes. For another, Steve suddenly seems to be around all the time, hanging around Miranda's house, and eating sandwiches made by her housekeeper. (I know I hate when MY housekeeper makes domestic interlopers sandwiches! Oh, wait... my housekeeper is ME.) For yet a third, Miranda is feeling left out and weird around her friends--Carrie and Charlotte are supportive about, and interested in, her new life as a mother, but Sam is visibly bored by the baby, and eager to get him (and, it inevitably follows, also Miranda) out of the way, when the ladies have fun, difficult-to-do-with-a-newborn-in-tow plans. Samantha: Kind of mean. Miranda: hurt. Baby: adorable.

What about Charlotte? Meh, nothing too embarrassing or dreadful, but overall, just kind of yawn-inducing. As her divorce proceedings... well, PROCEED, Charlotte has decided to officially transition from being Charlotte MacDougal to being Charlotte York. This... seems healthy! She has also decided (mainly at Anthony's instigation) that she needs to have sex immediately, if not sooner, to get over her marriage. (Even though... she is still actually married...?)

As such, at the Fleet Week party which the non-mommy ladies attend, Charlotte shows an officer one of her breasts (as one does, in large public venues, with tons of people around), in the hopes that this will somehow liberate her, and secure the birth of a "new Charlotte." It doesn't seem to, so much--she is kind of embarrassed (I cannot imagine why), and the officer kind of disappointed, as the Charlotte York Show goes no further then that brief flash of her upper lady-area. Ah well. At least... the party decorations looked festive?

And what of Samantha (apart from being kind of mean and exclusionary when it comes to her new-mum friend)? She is still furious with Richard for cheating on her, and embarks on various little revenge projects to fill up her idle hours. She wallpapers his neighborhood with fliers featuring his face, and the words "Cheater! Liar!" on them. (Won't someone think of the wasted paper?) She agrees to meet him for a drink, only to throw said drink in his face. (Won't someone think of the wasted alcohol?) But underneath it all, she clearly still has feelings for the oily schmuck, and the episode ends with her daydreamily listening and relistening to a voice message he left her. Healthy!

The Analysis:

LGBT Folks Watch: One of our two usual suspects, one Anthony Marantino by name. He is amusing, even if the advice that he gives Charlotte about how to move on from her failed marriage seems rather... unpleasant? I.e., he tells her that if she doesn't start having sex soon, it'll be just a "sleigh-ride into menopause." I will admit that that line made me laugh. (Mario Cantone can deliver a line, what can I say?) I will also concede that that line is intensely distasteful, and suggests (if it does not outright state) that women in or past menopause are unworthy of sexual attention and are somehow past their "sell-by date" as sexual beings. Lovely!

People of Color Watch: And in this episode, we have... three! One Asian-American woman who is Miranda's silent "baby nurse" (delightful, we needed more characters of color who are mute), the charming Chandra Wilson, who packs a lot of punch into her one scene as a lady cop, and Daniel Sunjata, who plays Carrie's brief flirtation, Louis. (I learn from the good people over at IMDB that Mr. S was named one of People's Most Beautiful People in the early aughts (well done, People!) and is a native of my adopted state of Illinois (well done, IL!)

What to make of young Louis? In no particular order: 1) Kind of nice that Carrie considers an African-American man as a love interest? Even if it is only for about five seconds, given the lily-white nature of her amorous eye elsewhere in the series? 2) What the heck is the deal with the SATC writers and the naming of characters of color? So Louis, it transpires, is from the great state of Louisiana, and Carrie (in her writerly way) gets a lot of pleasure in calling him (wait for the originality) "Louis from Louisiana." This may not be remarkable in and of itself, but combined with the fact that her African-American assistant in the first movie is named Louise, is from the great city of St. Louis, and Carrie (in her wordsmithian way) takes great joy in calling Louise (pause for the fresh innovativeness) "Louise from St. Louis," I... have concerns.

Because is it just me, or 1) is there something kind of troubling about the fact that these characters of color are clearly from somewhere else (somewhere Other, if you want to go all academic--and I do tend to), and clearly belong somewhere else? Louis isn't going to stay in New York, but rather go back to Louisiana--Louise (mild, uninteresting spoiler alert!) isn't going to stay in New York, but rather go back to St. Louis. Remind me why it is that we can't keep the majority of more substantive characters of color actually in the city, again...?

And why do I have the uneasy feeling that these characters wouldn't have gotten their fun little alliterative nicknames if they weren't people of color? We never get a white "This is Brooklyn... from Brooklyn" type character, after all. I dunno. Happy as I was to have Louis' fetching self around for an episode... something about the whole thing just doesn't seem quite right with me. (It also makes me wonder what, if I wasn't a white lady, my name on the show would have to be. I'm from New Jersey, so... "Jessie from Jersey"? "Gardenia from the Garden State"? It's a tough one to call!)

Me Being Kind of Creepily Ageist Watch: So this is purely coming from me, and not so much from the writers [hand flutters to mouth in a delicately lady-like, "You shock me!" gesture--I am admitting that I am worse than the writers here? Will wonders never cease?], but I must confess to you that, in the Fleet Week party scenes, it does rather creep me out to see our four ladies (now ranging in age from their late 30s to their mid 40s in age) flirting with an assortment of sailor boys. In large part, I hope, because many of the sailors whom we see are, indeed, boys--lads of my students' age, in their early to mid 20s. And it kind of creeps me out, to see Samantha roaming through these packs of youngsters with a predatory gleam in her eye. [Blogger deliberately avoids all references to "cougars" and "cougarism" here.]

The writers actually nod to this discomfort too, a bit, by having Carrie get told by a fresh-faced young lad she's been chatting to that she "remind[s] me of my mom." Yeouch. I hope the fact that I (and I guess the writers, to a certain extent) find grown women romantically sizing up young guys creepy does not have to do with internalized sexism (drat you, internalized sexism!), but rather to the fact that there is something empirically creepy of a 36-year-old regarding a 21-year-old as a romantic prospect (regardless of the genders involved). Because (with the inevitable caveats inserted here about how sometimes true love interevenes regardless of age, and how Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books) 21-year-olds, delightful as they are... are still kids! Leave them to dance with lasses of their own age, SATC ladies!

And While We Are On The Subject of My Weird Quibbles... Watch: What was that you said? You want to know more about my weird quibbles with this episode? Why, then, aren't you in luck! I have mentioned it on this blog before, but I will re-mention yet again that I find something a little unnerving about the pressure which is being put on Charlotte to date, to have sex, to get out and meet men... while she is, in fact, still married. She and Trey have officially separated, there is no hope of reconciliation, they are most certainly no longer a couple, but somehow it still weirds me out to hear all of the "you must find a new man NOW" rhetoric, given that she is still Mrs. Trey MacDougal. Maybe... wait until you're actually divorced to throw yourself back into the dating fray? Maybe... at least make it clear to the gents you're interested in that you are, indeed, still married? Happily, the writers seem to share my weird discomfort about this, as it comes up in a future episode. So... the writers and I are kind of in sync about something? Have the fires of hell officially turned into a frozen pond???

This Is My Very Last Weird, Not Strictly Feminist, Quibble About This Episode, I Promise... Watch: It really is. So this episode is the first post 9/11 show which SATC did, and I think they actually handled it really well, in that the writers don't give us a moment of "let us awkwardly refer to the massive tragedy/international incident which is just happened in our city in an artificial way that no human person would ever do in real life" but rather just throw the ladies back into their day-to-day lives, and have the aftermath of 9/11 be the water they swim in and the world they live in, but not something which they make stilted and inorganic references to. Well done, my writer friends!

The only moment in which 9/11 is even vaguely mentioned is when Carrie reminds her friends that it is each of their "patriotic duty as a New York woman" to go shopping--the implication being, of course, that shopping can be their way of helping to rebuild the city in the wake of the disaster.

Which... I get to a certain extent, because, of course, the economic devastation of 9/11 was considerable, and supporting NYC businesses in the wake of it was important--I guess this allusion just reminds me of rhetoric which I found kind of troubling at the time... that somehow being a consumer was the primary way to help our country get back on its feet. Not... donating to the recovery effort? Lobbying for health care for first responders? Questioning the need for a Patriot Act in the wake of the disaster? No? It seems not, my mistake!

SATC isn't a somber, political show, and I do not ask it to tackle somber, political themes... but is there a way to not always bring the female characters in the show's lives perpetually back to their role as consumers? No? It seems not, my mistake!

And At Long Last, We Make Our Way to Actual Feminist Analysis--Singlehood Edition Watch: Shall I take you on an epic journey through my reactions to the ways in which this episode tackles questions of singlehood?

Reaction #1: Oh, wow, this is so great! They are showing Carrie out and about in the world, as a happily single person! She can go to movies alone... and have fun. She can spend the evening in her own company... and enjoy herself doing so. How festive! [Blogger mood: contented.]

Reaction #2: Of course, I might have known this was all set-up for "Single Life Is Tragic and Pathetic." Did we really need to have Carrie obsessively rant at a complete stranger about love and fate? Do real single women randomly engage in such rantings to random men they encounter on the street? I... can't say I've ever done something similar, myself. Smile politely, sure. Exchange a few pleasantries about the weather, absolutely. Reveal my inmost fears and fantasies, and talk about my ex-boyfriends? Not... quite as much. [Blogger mood: Mildly crabby.]

Reaction #3: Oh, and now we have the specter of unpaired-off womanhood past the first flush of youth, and of course she is a grotesque clown figure, who has to self-medicate with quasi-illicit drugs just to get through her hopeless spinster days! [Blogger mood: Extremely crabby.]

Reaction #4: Oh, wait! Carrie just told Louis that being alone... actually isn't that bad! She said that regardless of what happens in her love life, she'll always have the madly beautiful, endlessly energetic city to inspire and enliven her. That... doesn't seem that bad! [Blogger mood: Circles back to relative placidity, with only a mild undercurrent of discontent. Phew.]

Yet More Actual Feminist Analysis--Motherhood Edition: And the series' depictions of Miranda's mothering life have begun! And... they are actually not terrible! [Blogger pauses to make a "V for Victory" sign.] Miranda is feeling a bit overwhelmed and tired by her new life as a mother, and challenged and frustrated by its sometimes uncomfortable physical realities. (She feels like a failure when she finds breast-feeding difficult, she is kind of weirded out by how radically different in size her breasts now are, etc., etc.) She's also trying to figure out how to balance her friendships with the demands of motherhood... she desperately wants for nothing to have changed, but of course... it has. She can't dash off with her friends to go shopping all afternoon, but has to go home to take care of her youngster. Grappling with that is hard enough, but having to deal with Samantha's "babies are such a drag" attitude makes things yet harder.

And I pat the show on the back for actually getting into all this stuff--what do you do if breastfeeding isn't as easy as it looks like in the handy little pamphlets the hospital gives you? What do you do when some of our friends regard your new motherhood as more of a nuisance than anything else? Rather than just fading off into a rosy Hallmark-card glow, Miranda actually has to grapple these questions... and it is pretty great. (I mean "great" as in realistic, of course... poor Miranda! Sorry for the rocks strewn across your path, here! May they soon be cleared!)

Notable Quotables:

Miranda, to her friends at the coffee shop, with young master Brady in tow: "Nothing has to change! Just think of this [Brady in his bassinet] as a big purse!"
Carrie: "Miranda... your purse just spit up."

[After listening to Charlotte react in horror over her having gone out alone on "date night"] Carrie: "Are we still going to have to call it 'date night' in our 50s?"

Next Up...?: "Original Sin," which is about the complex theological contention that all humankind are born into a state of... oh, no, wait, sorry, my mistake! This episode is, in fact, about Miranda contemplating whether or not to get Brady baptized (do it! Think of the presents!), Samantha contemplating whether or not to get back together with Richard (don't do it! Not even for the presents!), Charlotte contemplating whether or not to embrace the nutty philosophy of an unpleasant self-help guru (hint: she kinda does), and Carrie contemplating whether or not she has officially become entirely bitter and cynical, as a result of over a decade of dating life in NYC (hint: she kinda has.) Lively times ahead, to be sure!

Introducing... Season Five

Season Five... It Begins: Welcome back, mes amies! And so, now we must reflect upon and consider what treasures and delights await us in Season Five. So what do we have to look forward to (and to dread) in the "blink-and-you'll-miss-it-it's-so-darned-short" Season Five?

Look Forward To:

A goodish bit, actually, including (but not limited to):

1) Guest spots for both Nathan Lane and Amy Sedaris. They liven up the place, as you can imagine that they might!

2) Charming love interests for Carrie, Charlotte, and Stanford. (They are finally letting Stanford have a proper boyfriend??? Who is, notably, absolutely bloody gorgeous? Whatever the writers started smoking in Season Five... I am in favor of it! And... I might want some of it!)

3) Some quite swell episodes about the state of singlehood in one's 30s--they even get into a long discussion about "spinster vs. bachelor" language at one point. Go on and warm my "I turn 30 in less than three weeks" heart, why don't you?

4) Some quite nice considerations of the pleasures and exasperations of new motherhood. Turns out, being a new parent is a radically life-changing, challenging, and continually surprising thing. Shocker!

Dread:

1) You might actually think that this is a good thing (I don't know your life), but Big comes back for an episode, and... yawn. I am just not interested. Glad that Chris Noth was able to get himself a new car or whatever it is he did with the cash from his return to the SATC verse, but... please. Send him away.

2) Flickers of slut-shaming, flickers of fat-shaming, flickers of Other-ing when it comes to the Jewish folks (how exotic they are!)... some troubling flickers!

Next Up...?: "Anchors Away," in which Carrie decides that in lieu of a boyfriend, she is going to "date" the city of New York (at least introducing it to the folks will be a pleasure--trust me, they'll love it!), Miranda stumbles her way into New Mommy Life, Charlotte contemplates sleeping with unknown sailors (as one will), and Samantha fumes and fumes, and fumes about her sleazy cheating ex, Richard. I do love me a good fume!

In the Final Analysis... Taking Stock of Season Four

Readers! Once again it is my happy (well... happy from my point of view, anyway--I cannot know your sentiments on the matter) responsibility to tell you that even though I once again fell off the face of the earth for, like, a year, I am not, in fact, dead! Woooo! I am, instead, in the Midwest (allow me to forstall your inevitable "and the difference between those two states of being is...?" crack, my coastal friends--the Midwest is awesome--I live in walking distance from a huge farmer's market, and at state fairs, they sell fried butter on a stick. It. Is. Great.)

Since I posted last, I have moved to a shiny new town (so. Many. Boxes. To. Unpack.), and started a shiny new job, teaching at a shiny new school. (There is a pretty fountain outside of the building where I teach! Hooray! I love pretty fountains!)

Having finally dug my way out from under all of my boxes (Movers, to me: "Are you seriously telling me that all of those are filled with books?" Me: [Hangs head in silent acknowledgment and guilt]), purchased all the requisite furniture (somewhere to sleep? Check. Somewhere to leave all of the untidy piles of papers which I am always promising to organize, but never do? Check.), and gotten my new semester underway... I return to Carrie's stoop, to heap flaming coals upon the heads of the SATC writers once more. Ah, flaming coals. How I have missed thee! And you, of course, dear readers. You, e'en more than the coals.

Though we'll see how much "wrath of God/me, who has set herself up as God" flaming-coals-type-rhetoric we get into in this here summary of Season Four... because if you've read my rantings and ravings on the subject to date, you'll know that I actually lovvvve Season Four--it's my favorite season of the whole darned series for. Sure. But how did it do, compared to other seasons, in its representations of our friends The Gays? Of people not as lily-white as Elizabeth R smeared in mercury-based makeup? Let us see, shall we?

People of Color Watch: All right, so in Season Three, we had nineteen characters of color, five of whom were, you know, actual characters (i.e., not just the taxi driver who holds the door, or the sales clerk who has one line, but actual characters, with real weight and heft and a reasonable amount of substance to them.) And in Season Four, we have (please insert your own drumroll here, as appropriate...)--nine characters total (people who were simply physically present), and three characters of any substance. Oof. Progress--we have not made it.

If anything, I think we may have actually taken a step backwards, since one of the most prominent LGBT characters, Samantha's briefly-girlfriend Maria quickly goes from being an interesting, nuanced, real-seeming person to a screeching, loony-tunes, fiery-Latina stereotype. Boo. Maybe Season Five will introduce some characters of color of some of real complexity and depth...? [Optimism, sitting on the blogger's left shoulder, smiles weakly and uncertainly--Pessimism, sitting on her right, smirks evilly and complacently.]

LGBT Folks Watch: Well.... okay, we have to admit defeat on the characters of color front, but what about LGBT characters? Perhaps there are some glimmers of hope there? [Optimism takes a hearty swig out of what, despite the early hour, looks suspiciously like a vodka bottle. Pessimism looks ever more like the proverbial cat who has eaten the proverbial cream.] In Season Three, we had seven LGBT characters, five of whom were actually real, flesh-and-blood, significant-to-the-story type people. And this season we have... six LGBT characters total, four of whom I would say are actual characters of any note or significance. Huh. [Optimism's eyes: begin to look unpleasantly red around their rims. Pessimism: raises its fingers in what is either a V for Victory sign, or a British "sod off" gesture.]

Ah well. It seems we are destined to camp out on precisely the same ground which we were forced to dwell on in Season Three--not that many LGBT characters, and those who do appear... not a little stereotypical and troubling? Like Maria, the possessive, needy, "I value emotions over sex at all times, because I am a lady person of the female gender" lesbian lass? Or like Oliver, the "I am obsessed with sex and shopping to the exclusion of all else" gay gent?

[Optimism, seeming to rally a bit from its drunken, self-pitying stupor, makes an effort to sit up and protest.] Okay, okay--in the interests of not surrendering absolutely all to the Powers of Darkness, I will concede that 1) Once again, Anthony is one of our LGBT characters, and though the character is distinctly problematic in several ways, Mario Cantone is quite entertaining in the part, 2) Once again, Stanford is one of our LGBT characters, and Willie Garson brings tremendous wit, verve, and all-over delightfulness to what is often a flat, "I am here to say something sassy to help Carrie through her straight distress, and then disappear back into the Gay Ether, from whence I came!" type role, and 3) one of the LGBT characters of note in this season, Oliver, actually gets in some interesting, nuanced thoughts about open relationships before he and his awesome Aussie accent are shoved off-stage. [Optimism hiccups happily, seemingly unaware that it is now sitting on the empty vodka bottle.]

And what else is striking and of note in Season Four, you ask? Why, let us see!

Defeats!

I'm actually going to throw Pessimism a bone here, and start off with the bad and ugly--though perhaps it's less because I want to wallow in the negative then that I want to save all of my gushing for last. Because gush--I most assuredly will. [Pessimism--looks sulky. Kicks the now-sleeping Optimism rather sharply in the leg.]

1) SLOPPINESS AND OVERALL UNPLEASANTNESS IN DEPICTING SAM'S RELATIONSHIP WITH A WOMAN. Sigh. Do you remember the days when Samantha first started dating Maria, dear readers? Oh, those were happy days. The sun was warmer then, I think. The birds sang more sweetly--the breeze blew more gently. Maria was actually a pretty neat character back then, and Sam, though a bit flummoxed by finding herself attracted to a lady, was nonetheless receptive to the idea that she might be a smidge more sexually fluid than she'd actually thought. It was all so grown-up and complicated and thoughtful. Ah, memories!

A pity that we suddenly slid sideways into Maria being a dreary, sexless killjoy, and Samantha concluding that lesbianism just wasn't for her (even though... she'd never actually been a lesbian in the first place?), because chicks are such a hyperemotional drag. Bummer--that surely was one.

2) CLASS PRIVILEGE--LET US CONTINUE TO PRETEND IT IS NOT THERE, MUCH LIKE AN UNPLEASANT UNPAINTED PATCH ON OUR WALL, THAT WE CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO RETOUCH: (Can you tell that I've just moved into a new house, from the metaphors that I'm slinging about? My little unpainted patch is in my stairwell, in case you were wondering.) You may recall me carping, when Miranda decides to continue her pregnancy and embark on her life as a single mother, that the show doesn't pause for so much as a millisecond to reflect on the class privilege which makes Miranda's "of course I can take care of my future baby with no difficulty, and no financial aid whatsoever from its father" attitude possible.

I know this is a small piece of a much larger pie--why do we have to hear Carrie whining all the time about how poor she is, while continuing to buy Jimmy Choos by the dozen? Why do we even raise the issue of potential financial ruin only to immediately and conveniently dismiss it? The unacknowledged-class-privilege-of-our-four-leading-ladies pie--it is one which has vexed and irritated me since Season One. And I hate being vexed and irritated by pie--it is usually such a friend and ally to me!

Victories!

But despite these caveats... golly, but I do love Season Four. Why, you ask? (Or probably, don't ask--much like Optimism, you may well have sunk into a stupor at this point). In no particular order, I give you:

1) ABORTION. Women talking about it in a deep, complex, thoughtful way. Acknowledging the reality that abortions are common, that many women have them, and that their feelings about them are sometimes complicated, sometimes straightforward--but that, no matter what, the right to choose what to do with your own body is a pretty darned fantastic. YES.

2) MOTHERHOOD. Some women don't want to be mothers, and that's fine. Some women do want to be mothers, but find navigating pregnancy in a culture which has all kinds of weird ideas about how pregnant women are "supposed" to behave uncomfortable (and inhabiting a pregnant body uncomfortable, to boot.) Realism. NICE.

3) INFERTILITY. Some women who do want to be mothers find out that (biologically) they can't. And that is sad, and confusing, and awful. Acknowledging and exploring such a (still taboo) subject in such a thoughtful and emotionally astute way--FABULOUS.

4) AMBIVALENCE ABOUT MARRIAGE AND LONG-TIME COMMITMENT ON THE PART OF THE LADIES. Not all women want to be married. (Do you hear that, SATC movies??? Not. All. Women.), and that's fine. A broad spectrum of ideas about love and commitment and cohabitation, outside of the white-picket fence paradigm, exists. And sometimes, not even love is enough to bridge the gap between two people when it comes to when and whether to tie the knot. Stepping outside of our bride-obsessed culture to consider the feelings and ideas of a woman who throws up when she finds out that her beloved boyfriend is about to propose to her? PRICELESS.

5) MORE CUDDLY GOODIES ABOUT HOW FRIENDS CAN BE FAMILY, AND ABOUT HOW BEING SINGLE IS NOT ABJECTLY TERRIBLE. And trust me, I am especially loving this whole vein of Season Four at the moment, because I have been getting a LOT of static about being a single lady since I moved. (Maybe everyone in my old home was just used to my tragic spinsterhood...?) I kid you not, a goodly percentage of the moving people/cable installers/neighbors whom I've met so far have done some version of "Wow, it's JUST YOU? You're going to be living here ALL BY YOURSELF? You DIDN'T MOVE WITH ANYONE?" when I have disclosed my unwed/unpartnered status. It's gotten to the point where I've considered handing out cards: "Yes... it is JUST ME."

ANYWAY. Such encounters (and if I had a dollar for every one that I've had so far, I could buy myself more than one of those aforementioned fried-butter-on-a-sticks) make me particularly appreciative to see something of my "is it absolutely necessary to say, 'Awwwww,' like my puppy just died, when I tell you that I'm single?" state of mind reflected in dear Season Four, which ends with all four of our leading ladies pretty newly single (in some cases, really newly single), yet still looking forward to their futures with hope and excitement and a sense of promise.

Over the course of the season, the ladies found being coupled sometimes wonderful, sometimes hard, always stimulating. And at the end of the season, they are back into their single lives, finding them... sometimes wonderful, sometimes hard, always stimulating. So maybe... coupled or single... life contains elements of the unknown, the unexpected, and the potentially wondrous? Perhaps... the sun shines on the partnered and the unpartnered alike? Season Four/The Magic Eight Ball says... yes. And for that, I hug it to my icy-cold spinster's heart.

And So... In Comparison with Other Seasons...: I love it. Perhaps that was obvious to you already? [Optimism has somehow managed to wake itself up, and find a circlet of roses to adorn its newly-cheery brow. Pessimism is peering into the vodka bottle, in the vain hopes of detecting an errant drop remaining in its dregs.] Not to say that it is not shot through with problems and issues and missed opportunities... but on the whole, it is just so, so great. It asks tough questions, refuses to offer easy answers, and tells stories which are complicated, realistic, and emotionally resonant.

Also, Carrie wears a vintage cape at one point, and we get two whole episodes of Roger Sterling swanning about in a suit. As they apparently say in the fashion industry... me likey.

Next Up...?: A wee preview of what awaits us in Season Five. (Brief preview of my preview: new motherhood madness aplenty, a recurring role for the charmingly wackadoo Amy Sedaris, increasingly inventive and entertaining "we are trying, with mixed success, to conceal that two of our lead actresses are preggers" outfits for Sarah Jessica Parker and Cynthia Nixon to sport, and an adorable writer for Carrie to flirt with.) I don't know about you, but I am psyched!!!