Big grief

And just like that, Carrie is learning how to plant more seeds around the gaping hole in her life.

Well! I am thrilled to report that “Chapter 3” (S2 E3) felt a lot more cohesive—we have fewer, but meatier plotlines; our main characters’ stories are starting to finally come together a bit; and Kristin Davis and Nicole Ari Parker get to show off their comedic chemistry. Sure, some of the writing continues to be a bit lackluster, but this was a fairly well-paced episode overall, with a wonderful storyline for Carrie.

We open with Carrie running into her downstairs neighbor, young jewelry designer Lisette, whom we haven’t seen since episode 9 of season 1. (This show does continue to have a lot of side characters). Lisette is setting up for her jewelry show at Bryant Park, and Carrie is on her way to record the audiobook for her upcoming memoir, “Loved & Lost,” which focuses on Big’s death.

Lisette confusingly tells Carrie that “she (Carrie) is the only one she cares about coming (to her jewelry show).”

Is she being facetious? Are they that close? Carrie literally just said they only ever saw each other in the vestibule of their building. Moving on.

Outside her townhouse, Seema is accosted by a man who rips her Birkin from her arms. Of course, she is in heels (I suppose I must accept these women are all pretending sneaker culture doesn’t exist) and she cannot catch the mugger.

She calls Carrie to report the theft (she can still file an insurance claim even without a police report) (ACAB) and asks, “what is happening to this city?”

OK. I understand that the media narrative overwhelmingly paints post-COVID New York as a crime-ridden wasteland, but that is not quite the reality. The crime rate here is flat, with many violent crimes actually down year over year—shooting incidents are down 26.5% YoY and robberies fell 11% (May 2022-2023). So MPK can GTFO with this fear-mongering. Just people because feel unsafe does not mean the city is unsafe. (Yes, I get a bit defensive about this because I am tired of our cop mayor pushing for more NYPD funds.)

Carrie-ing on… (Sorry. I had to. Don’t hate me.)

Seema says she bought the bag so long ago, there wasn’t even a waitlist. We are all reminded of Samantha dropping Lucy Liu’s name to jump the Birkin waitlist. I miss our girl. (Samantha, not Lucy—although Lucy was pretty fab in her cameo, too.)

At the Arbor School, we have some storylines beginning to converge. Nya is going to be featured in LTW’s documentary (do we know what this doc is even about?).

While Charlotte and LTW are whispering about what to get Miranda as a thank-you gift for connecting LTW to Nya, the principal (Tim Bagley, whom I love in this role) declares that a student at the school has created a MILF list.

These two are mostly delightful in this episode.

Meanwhile, in the recording studio, it’s time for Carrie to record the namesake of this episode—Chapter 3 of her memoir. There is an annoying bit about the sound guy having body odor that feels unnecessary. Carrie’s publisher reveals that they booked the studio for five days (not the two that Carrie thought) to give her enough time to get through the very emotional memoir. By the looks of this first session, she is (very understandably) going to need it.

Cut to Che and Miranda’s (beautiful) kitchen.

They are rehearsing lines for “Che Pasa,” which has such clever jokes as Tony Danza referring to Che as “my little cannoli.” Again, I remain morbidly curious about this pilot’s plot.

Miranda is also going full Boomer complaining about her new phone—she somehow let a salesperson talk her into getting an Android, she says. (This is clearly foreshadowing.)

Che is frustrated at the scene, in which they are supposed to cry as they talk to their dad Tony Danza about being nonbinary. Clearly, Che’s deal for this pilot did not involve being the writer, which is a little confusing to me—especially since it is made very clear to us later in the episode that Che is not an actor. (BD’s words, not mine.)

Regardless, I understand Che’s frustration that crying sends a signal that being non-binary is a tragedy. Che calls the scene “fake-ass” and “shitty,” Miranda tells them not to do it, and Che reminds her that they don’t have a choice.

This is how I look whenever we are treated to Che’s stand-up jokes.

On set at LTW’s doc, Nya is discussing how she became a professor at Columbia Law School (a story which I would really like to hear, but none of these characters have backstories). Her mic slips down her shirtdress and the sound guy and obvious love interest for Nya, reaches down her dress to get it.

I thought that was not really allowed on sets anymore, but what do I know. They have a bit of a moment and LTW seems almost annoyed at their chemistry? Until she encourages Nya to get Hot Sound Guy’s number. LTW tells Nya they have what they need from her and are OK to wrap—they’re late for lunch with Carrie and Charlotte.

Speaking of the dynamic duo, Charlotte, knowing the subject matter of Carrie’s memoir, is being an incredibly supportive friend by offering to accompany her to the recording studio. Carrie insists she’s fine (she so obviously isn’t), and Charlotte shares that she and Miranda are so proud of Carrie for her strength in moving on. Charlotte is a standout friend in this scene, and in this entire episode, as we’ll later see.

Enter Nya and LTW. Carrie compliments the latter’s perfume; I assume it’s something I can’t afford but nevertheless, I want to know what it is!

I scoured IMDB for a character whose initials are SJ; there was a “Shelly Jenkins” but IMDB says she was only in season 1. I assume she was a guest at LTW’s infamous dinner party.

Ordering is interrupted by LTW who has received the MILF list.

This could be a nice moment to have a deeper conversation about how difficult aging can be and how nice it is to feel appreciated, even if it is by a pervy teenager, but no. I have accepted that this show will not be handling tough topics with care.

Charlotte, seemingly forgetting that she has been friends with one Ms. Samantha Jones for decades, apologizes to Nya for their lowbrow lunch conversation. Nya, filling the Miranda-shaped hole at the table, lightly suggests they discuss abortion rights, or how the planet is dying—until she gets a text from Hot Sound Guy.

More squealing ensues.

After her lunch break, Carrie returns to the podcast studio. She is struggling to get through the first few paragraphs of chapter 3, in which she details returning home to the apartment and discovering Big dying.

SJP is wonderful in this scene. Her grief is palpable. (And the writing of her memoir isn’t half-bad either.) The scene isn’t short; it allows us to linger in Carrie’s grief and feel it with her. And there is some nice camera work mimicking how she feels the walls are closing in on her, and the memory of the shower gushing down on her and Big as he lay dying in her arms.

I am sure some would accuse me of being too nitpicky about this show, but I can give credit where credit is due—this scene, and Carrie’s entire storyline in this episode, were beautiful. This episode reminded us, in a way that didn’t rely on hokey jokes, that Carrie is still navigating the loss of Big, and that it’s OK for her to take the time she needs.

On her way home, Carrie has another coincidental NYC run-in—Bitsy von Muffling calls out to her from a spa lobby, where she is waiting for the redness from her upper lip wax to die down.

Carrie reveals that she just fell apart while recording her audiobook, and Bitsy reminds Carrie that grief isn’t linear and there is no end date. Evidently, Nathan Lane has also passed away in this universe. (Did we know this? Did I forget?) (Clearly, Nathan Lane is too booked and busy to deign to join this mid reboot.) Carrie tells Bitsy that she always seems so “up and about,” and Bitsy is genuinely supportive. She concludes by telling Carrie about a saying she learning in her Kabbalah class. I did not realize Kabbalah was still a thing, but nevertheless, her advice to “do whatever it is you need to do” because “the hole never fills, but new life will grow around it” is solid.

(This was a nice run-in. I hope Bitsy is managing her grief well. I suppose a $100,000 facelift is one way to do it.)

I think we all know how Carrie makes herself feel better.

Back in her apartment, while trying on her new shoes, Carrie realizes she just doesn’t want to record her audiobook about her husband dying. Fair. So she calls her contact and leaves a voicemail with the one piece of info still guaranteed to get us out of things we don’t want to do.

Faking COVID isn’t great, but…I kinda get it in this case.

Back in LA, Miranda has left the cell phone store—bless the person who had to deal with her Boomer nonsense. She wanders into a tattoo parlor and starts treating poor Ricky like he’s her therapist.

Miranda. Get a real therapist. You are experiencing a lot of change in your life and it would probably be beneficial to have an objective person in your corner.

Ricky tells her about some robot designs, and Miranda, thankfully, steps outside to call Carrie to be the voice of reason.

WHERE IS SHELLY MISCAVIGE??????

We are treated to a wonderful Scientology mention. (Fun fact about me: I know a lot about Scientology. Read “The Unbreakable Miss Lovely” by Tony Ortega if you want to read something truly wild.)

Miranda starts talking about her fear of losing control and Carrie, in a perfectly Carrie line-reading, tells Miranda it’s time for her to come back to New York. Miranda acknowledges that LA is “like pretend-life” and she doesn’t want it to end. At least she’s self-aware. And frankly, with that kitchen and little courtyard pool, can you blame her?

Miranda asks Carrie how the audiobook is going, and rather than be honest about her grief rearing its ugly head, Carrie continues to perpetuate the lie she has COVID. I think she feels she has already relied too much on Miranda (and Charlotte), and I’m glad she has Bitsy (and later Seema) as well. A good support system is crucial.

Carrie tells Miranda that, if she’s going to get a robot tattoo, it shouldn’t be anywhere visible, and Miranda proceeds to give us this comment.

This episode was going so well and then…

The aggressions, they’re not even micro anymore.

Two seconds later, Charlotte calls Carrie—she’s heard the COVID news. True to form, she has already sent chocolates and is making basmati rice, which is all Harry wanted when he had it. I appreciate Charlotte’s special brand of extra. She clearly needs an outlet for her maternal instincts because her children are nowhere to be seen in this episode. (Which is a good thing…the fewer storylines, the better.)

Seems is laying in bed with a box of tissues, trawling the Internet for Birkins. She is verklempt. Honestly, if a mugger stole my $30,000 handbag, I would also be highly emotional.

The next day, Seema and Anthony are at lunch, waiting for Carrie. (I could do with more Anthony overall in this show.) I have to assume Seema is overdue for an appointment with Juan Jose. Carrie, having forgotten to cancel this lunch, is at home playing Wordle and eating a burger, enjoying her fake COVID in what is a pretty fabulous quarantine outfit. (I still miss Pat Field.)

This scene is not really worth commenting on; its sole purpose is to spread Carrie’s COVID news.

Back at The Arbor School, the moms (and stepmoms) are gossiping about the alleged author of the MILF list—Milo H. (not Milo W.). Apparently, Milo H. had a night guard (referred to as a “night brace”?) and a lisp—and the ladies murmur that “it’s always the nerds.” Charlotte rightfully admonishes them for making fun of a child.

On cue, Milo H. emerges from the principal’s office. He is no longer a nerd. The women gawk at him in a scene that is both uncomfortable yet still manages to have good comedic timing (if you can manage to forget that they are gawking at a minor). (I cannot.) (Is he a minor? The principal later mentions Milo H.’s punishment involves his college admissions process, so maybe we are meant to assume he’s 18. I truly hope that is the case.)

Back in the auditorium, LTW and Charlotte object to a harsh punishment for Milo H. and the other ladies argue that they are just flattered they were numbers two and three on the list. Kristin Davis and Nicole Ari Parker have great chemistry and timing here.

(A nice dad reassures them they should have been numbers one and two.)

The principal interrupts his monologue about not tolerating misogyny on campus to report that moms were spotted ogling a male student. Charlotte and LTW are appalled.

They’re shocked—SHOCKED.

Miranda is on line getting ready to watch Che tape their pilot when finally, her phone actually rings—it’s Brady, calling from Amsterdam! Luisa has broken up with him, and he is so distraught, he tells Miranda he wishes a car had hit him. Miranda, rightfully, is so concerned that she hides her phone from the security guard who is enforcing the taping’s “no phones” policy with those little locked pouches. I think we can all see where this is going.

Carrie is kicking back, eating chocolates and doing a face mask. Fake COVID suits her. Her publisher calls her, excited to share that they booked the studio for another week. How much money is her publisher sinking into this? Damn. Carrie, taking Bitsy’s advice, is not optimistic that she’ll be recovered by next week.

In the studio, Tony Danza and Che are taping a Very Special Scene, and showrunner BD is beside themselves with how funny they are. (They are not funny.) Just as we hit the emotional high point of the scene, Miranda’s phone rings.

BD, quickly giving Che a run for their money when it comes to being the worst person on this show, yells at Miranda in front of the entire studio audience that they’ll never get that moment back because Che is not an actor.

That was way harsh, Tai.

Tony Danza is a class act. (I wonder if he had that written into his contract.)

Wandering around the Warner Brothers lot, Miranda calls Charlotte, who reassures her that she (Miranda) is doing the right thing by dropping everything to meet Brady back in New York the next morning. Charlotte is continuing to be an incredibly supportive friend, and this is a genuinely nice scene between the two old friends—it also seems Miranda has been jolted back to her old self by her son’s crisis.

And just look at Richard Burton’s rain outfit!

Cut to Carrie’s apartment—Seema arrives with lunch, having snuck in with the UPS guy. Carrie reveals she doesn’t have COVID. Over wine Carrie, feeling that she has exhausted her grief with Miranda and Charlotte, confides in Seema that recording the audiobook has resurfaced her grief. Seema is also genuinely supportive, reassuring Carrie it’s OK if she wants to crawl into bed for a few days.

Despite having spent the last two days faking COVID and lounging around her apartment, Carrie insists she’s not a “take to her bed” type (hey, don’t knock it ’til you try it!) and Seema, giving Carrie a taste of her own medicine, compares the loss of her Birkin to the loss of Big. (Again…it’s a $30,000 handbag so I almost see where she is coming from.) (It is definitely not the same thing though.)

I’m glad that Carrie has a friend like Seema—they may not have the history that Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte share, but Carrie can share her grief without feeling like she’s further burdening Miranda and Charlotte. This storyline really is quite lovely.

Carrie’s phone chimes; it’s a text from Lisette reminding her of the jewelry show. She wants to be there for her friend (again, I’m rolling with the fact that they are friends despite having seen no real evidence)—plus, Lisette doesn’t know Carrie supposedly has COVID.

On a break from taping, Che emerges from the “Che Pasa” studio. In what may be the worst Che Diaz scene we’ve ever gotten (which is really quite a high bar), Miranda and them have a huge blowout. Yes, Che is rightfully upset about being humiliated by BD and taking it out on Miranda, but I still found them completely unsympathetic here. Am I overreacting? Let me know.

Che cannot believe Miranda is leaving LA because her son is going through his first big breakup. I get that Che considers “Che Pasa” their big break, but Miranda is genuinely concerned about her only child. Miranda didn’t necessarily need to throw out a “you don’t know what (having kids) is like” to Che, but Che is way out of line imo. Che is clearly under a lot of pressure, and these two both need to take a breather—it’s probably for the best that Miranda is headed back to New York at the moment.

At Bryant Park, the jewelry show is in full swing. Carrie and a freshly blown-out Seema are admiring Lisette’s work. Seema, ever alert after her mugging, notices a waiter shoving jewelry into his pockets.

The waiter-cum-thief orders Carrie to give him her nameplate necklace and we are all reminded of the time when she was mugged and forced into giving up her Manolo Blahniks.

Lisette realizes what is happening and calls for security or for somebody, anybody, to help. Unhelpfully, Carrie screams out that she has COVID.

Not helpful, Bradshaw.

Seema brandishes a gun-shaped lighter and the thief runs away, but not before he pockets pretty much all of Lisette’s jewelry. This scene is very odd, but is clearly giving us a reason to bring Carrie and Lisette closer. Of course, we end on a joke because this show can only tolerate one serious plotline per episode.

The next morning in Brooklyn, Miranda is there to greet Brady, but not before revealing the tattoo Ricky inked onto her wrist.

That’s what you went with, Miranda? Your initials? That’s what you needed to be reminded of who you are? This is the most literal tattoo I’ve ever seen (and I have some dumb tattoos).

Miranda, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to get divorced, move to LA with your new partner, and allow your teenage son to go to Europe with his girlfriend. This child needs support!! My god.

Around the corner from Seema’s apartment, her car is stopped in traffic. She decides to walk, and, upon bending down to pet a dog, she spots a familiar color in the planter outside a building. Lo and behold—it’s her beloved Birkin!

Now listen, I’m happy for her but there is absolutely no way that bag has made it this long outside (in the rain!) without being taken. It’s not exactly camoflauged well. Again, I suppose we’ll have to roll with this one.

Carrie brings some chocolates to Lisette, using her emergency key to let herself in. I guess this constitutes an emergency. Lisette, unlike Carrie, has taken to her bed, and they share a nice moment. I hope we get more from Lisette; this is a great opportunity to show Carrie as a mentor figure.

Having been cured of her fake COVID and further in tune with her grief journey, Carrie finishes recording chapter 3 of her audiobook. No jokes, I’m proud of our girl.

Carrie and Seema celebrate at a restaurant with communal tables, where they meet a group of Australian rugby players.

The episode ends with Carrie’s VO: “and just like that…I got COVID.” I…don’t get it. Do the Aussies give her COVID? Is this a karmic lesson about what happens when you lie about having COVID? What a missed opportunity for a poignant line about navigating grief. These little VO moments at the end of each episode are so, so odd.

That said, this was absolutely the strongest episode of the season, if not the series (not that it’s a high bar). I do not foresee Che and Miranda’s relationship surviving the season, and I’m even less optimistic about the future of “Che Pasa.” It seem that Hot Sound Guy and Nya are going to be a thing. Will the Todd-Wexleys continue to explore microaggressions and racism (doubtful). How is Lily’s songwriting going? And I can’t help but wonder…when will Aidan (and I assume, his new dog) come screaming back into our lives?

…catch y’all next week!