Carrie’s voice is back. So is the show’s soul as ‘And Just Like That…’ grows up

PARIS (AP) — “She’s messy. It can be messy. But it’s real.”

So says Cynthia Nixon — not just of Miranda Hobbes, the character she’s embodied for almost three decades, but of the show itself. “And Just Like That...,” HBO’s “Sex and the City” revival, has come into its own in Season 3: less preoccupied with pleasing everyone, and more interested in telling the truth.

Truth, in this case, looks like complexity. Women in their 50s with evolving identities. Not frozen in time, but changing, reckoning, reliving. Queerness that’s joyful but not polished. Grief without melodrama. A pirate shirt with a bleach hole that somehow becomes a talisman of power.

At its glittering European premiere this week, Nixon and co-star Sarah Jessica Parker, flanked by Kristin Davis and Sarita Choudhury, spoke candidly with The Associated Press about how the show has evolved into something deeper, rawer and more reflective of who they are now.

A voice returns

Season 3 marks the return of Carrie Bradshaw’s iconic internal monologue that once defined “Sex and the City.” The series has always followed Carrie’s rhythm, but now it brings back something deeper: her voice. Literally.

“We’ve always loved the voiceover,” Parker said. “It’s a rhythm — it’s part of the DNA.”

The decision to restore it, producers say, was deliberate. The voiceovers return just as Carrie rediscovers her direction — offering viewers a renewed sense of intimacy and connection.

That growth is echoed in her rekindled relationship with Aidan and her acceptance to step back for him to focus on his troubled son.

The character who in 1998 first stopped a cab in Manolo Blahniks — and once floated through Manhattan chasing shoes and column deadlines — is now grounded in reinvention, the wounds of loss and cautious hope. The word is: grown up.

“She doesn’t burst into tears or stomp out of the room anymore,” Parker said. “She asks smart, patient questions. That’s not effort — that’s just her nature now.”

“People seem surprised that she is mature,” Parker added. “But that’s just basic developmental stuff — hopefully, simply by living, we get better at things. It’s not surprising. It’s just real.”

Warts and all

If Carrie is the compass, Miranda is the seismic shift.

Miranda’s arc — which now includes a late-in-life queer awakening — may be the show’s most radical contribution to television. And for Nixon, who publicly came out as queer while still playing straight in the original “Sex and the City,” that evolution is deeply personal.

“There’s never a ‘too late’ moment. Miranda comes to queerness at 55,” Nixon said. “That doesn’t mean everything that came before was wrong. It just means this is her now. And it’s messy. It can be messy. But it’s real.”

That embrace of imperfection lies at the core of Nixon’s philosophy — and the show’s power. On television, where characters linger in our lives for years, there’s a unique intimacy and empathy that develops.

“Television puts someone in your living room, week after week. They’re imperfect, they make you laugh, and eventually you say, ‘I know that person. They’re my friend.’” she said. “That’s more powerful than one mythic, perfect film. That’s where the change happens.”

That change includes how queerness is portrayed. Nixon recalled how earlier generations of LGBTQ+ characters were forced to be flawless, or two-dimensional, to justify their screen time.

“There was a time when gay people on screen had to be saints or martyrs,” she said. “Now, we can be characters like Miranda — who’ve had rich, fulfilling heterosexual lives and now stumble upon queerness, and not in a tidy way. There’s collateral damage. That’s important.”

That depth, Nixon said, comes not just from character, but from the format. Unlike film, which requires resolution in two hours, television lets people grow — and falter — in real time.

'The writers are smart'

And Miranda’s transformation isn’t just personal. It’s political.

In Season 3, she’s seen retraining in human rights law, joining protest movements, and wrestling with systemic questions — mirroring Nixon’s own off-screen life. In 2018, the actor ran for governor of New York on a progressive platform, bringing her activism directly into the public arena. That convergence isn’t accidental, she says.

“On long-running shows, if the writers are smart, they start to weave in the actor,” Nixon said. “When I started, Miranda and I were very different. But now we’ve grown closer. We’re almost the same person — in temperament, in values.”

Season 3 narrows its scope, pulling focus back to the emotional cores of Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte. Several side characters are gone, including Che Diaz, and what remains is a cleaner, more character-driven story.

“I think one of the great things about our show is we show women in their 50s whose lives are very dramatic and dynamic,” Nixon said. “You get to this age and there’s a lot going on — if you choose to keep moving forward.”

Friends, friction, and freedom

Kristin Davis, who plays Charlotte, noted that those life shifts come fast and often overlap.

“She really starts to unravel,” Davis said. “But the joy is her friends are there.”

Sarita Choudhury, who plays real estate powerhouse Seema, echoed that sense of late-blooming autonomy.

“She’s feeling that, if you have your own business, your own apartment, your own way, you get to say what you want,” Choudhury said. “There’s power in that.”

It’s a subtle rebuke to the long-held media narrative that midlife is a decline.

Not just fashion — declaration

Fashion, as ever, is present — but now it feels more personal than aspirational. Parker described insisting on wearing a ripped vintage Vivienne Westwood shirt with a bleach hole.

“It had to be in an important scene. It meant something,” she said.

Even the show’s iconic heels, still clacking through New York’s brownstone-lined streets, feel louder this season.

And yes, Carrie is writing again — not her usual musings, but a “historical romance” that lets the show wink at its own pretensions. Taxis become carriages. Voiceovers drift into period drama.

Her beloved blouse — vintage, shredded, almost costume — fits the mood perfectly: century-leaping fashion for a century-leaping Carrie. The protagonist, as ever, walks the line between costume and character.

“And Just Like That...” is a show that’s learned to walk — loudly — into its next chapter.

“You’re better today than you were 10 years ago,” Parker said. “That’s not just Carrie — that’s everyone.”

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Season 3 of “And Just Like That…” premiered on Thursday on HBO Max