Oh, this episode of And Just Like That, you contain multitudes. One the one hand, I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed so hard at an episode of AJLT as I did while watching Lisa Todd Wexley (Nicole Ari Parker) talking in her sleep. If turning soundbites into phone ringtones was still a thing, you can bet that I would have LTW grunting “HEY!” as mine right now. And the woman from 10F, who never met free food she didn’t love? You know one of the writers threw that in based on some very specific IRL Buy Nothing interactions. But on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, we’ve got the whole Carrie-Aidan thing, where Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) witnesses firsthand just how difficult it is to co-parent a child who is struggling with their mental health. All it took was a pitchfork through a window for Carrie to finally realize that Aidan (John Corbett) was right, he does need to focus exclusively on his son Wyatt with no distraction from her (and no input from Boyfriend Bob, either. What’s that guy’s deal?).
Let me begin by saying something I’ve mentioned in the past in other recaps: I love Lisa Todd Wexley. This might be a controversial hot take but I think this character has been the most successful new addition to the franchise, and it’s all because Nicole Ari Parker is as glamorous as she is funny, and she leaned hard into the laughs this week. I would love to see the outtakes of her talking in her sleep, a new affliction that’s inching toward “sleep divorce” – i.e. her husband, future-comptroller Herbert Wexley (Chris Jackson), sleeping in a separate bedroom. As someone who would absolutely file for sleep divorce (you know, if I actually had a spare bedroom) I feel Herbert hard. He is SO mad at LTW for her outbursts, and the look on his face when he realizes that you can’t actually be mad at a semi-conscious person feels very truthful to me. Been there. (Whoever invented CPAP machines should get a Nobel Prize for Marriage.) The problem is that LTW is suffering from anxiety now that her former editor Grace is working for Steve McQueen now, and she needs a new editor for her documentary. (The top candidate is a man named Marion. She has reservations about hiring a man for a project about women, but his credentials, along with the fit of his pants, eventually make her realize he’s the man for the job.)
While Herbert Wexley is being unceremoniously awakened in Manhattan, Carrie is startled awake in Virginia by Aidan and his sons Homer and Wyatt (Homer is the one who’s actually nice to Carrie, Wyatt is the reason Carrie and Aidan can’t be together) who are painting the outside of the house. Carrie – with nothing but the pink dress, high heels and cardigan she rode in on to keep her warm – steps out of the guest house to greet the boys, and it’s clear that Wyatt hates her. Listen, if a lady I didn’t know came to my house in an evening gown and 4-inch heels at 7a.m., I, too, would be skeptical. Carrie asks if there’s a local store nearby where she can pick up some new duds and she’s directed to a dress shop that appears to be a Mary Engelbreit painting come to life that she has to ride an ATV to get to. (“What’s an ATV?” the worldly writer asks.)
Anyone who’s ever been on a Next Door/Buy Nothing/apartment building list serv-style site knows the complicated emotions of everyone in Charlotte’s (Kristin Davis) family. Rock, the most perfectly written version of a 2025 teen I’ve seen, is obsessed with scouring Building Link, the online group for their building, in an effort to build community. The future really does belong to this generation and their optimism. Harry on the other hand, thinks if the lady in 10F needs a spare banana, she shouldn’t be asking the neighbors for one.
10F, a.k.a. Marilyn Scholl, a.k.a. Annie Golden, eventually weasels an invite for dinner because Harry’s visiting father is taken with her. (“Only this kind?” 10F says when Charlotte brings her some barbecue sauce for her brisket. What did Sweet Baby Ray’s ever do to you, 10F? But also, I love this character.)
Ryan Serhant has returned to wreak havoc on Seema’s (Sarita Choudhury) career, telling her that if she won’t stay at the real estate firm he just bought from her partner, she’s going to have to find a new job post haste. Aside from Seema pitching her assistant a chance to come work with her and getting turned down (“Well, that was my best Jerry Maguire,” she shrugs, to which her assistant responds “Who’s Jerry Maguire?”), she has nothing else to do this week.
While I really love the fact that Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is embracing her authentic lesbian self these days, I hate that it comes at the expense of her power and success. Season 3 Miranda is essentially a couch-surfing legal intern, and while I appreciate that she’s building up a new career at Human Rights Watch, she’s a fictional character with fictional money, could we not have written a more lateral career and housing situation for her that builds on the fact that she’s been a well-paid professional for decades? Why would this woman still be Airbnb-ing or housesitting? (I know she’s not making much money these days but she’s a practical lady, I know she has savings.) Anyway. Miranda still has a crush on Joy (Dolly Wells), who works at the BBC and occasionally, she needs Miranda to be on camera to discuss atrocities in Africa for some reason.
When Joy asks Miranda to film a live segment for the BBC, Miranda, whose only media training was having sexy drinks with Joy, speeds through her segment and can’t catch her breath, which leads her to abruptly deliver the phrase “wild countryside” as “wild cunt…ryside.” Miranda’s horrified to learn her flub becomes a viral meme that everyone – her son Brady, Carrie, even Rock, have all seen.
Miranda thinks the meme is why Joy has started to pull back and show less interest in her. Miranda invites Joy and her friends, who are some of the most obnoxious English people ever committed to film, “Nice to meet you, Wild Cunt!” “Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re in Wild Cunt’s flat!” they titter. Miranda is ashamed (of herself), while Joy is also ashamed (of her awful friends). It isn’t until Joy is leaving that Miranda asks if her gaffe is the reason Joy is acting so distant, but Joy reassures her that it’s actually just because she’s so attracted to Miranda.
With Carrie fully suited up in her Laura Ingalls cosplay, she, Aidan, Homer and Wyatt head to the mall to play zombie laser tag so she can bond with the boys. Though she was trying her best to give Wyatt what he wanted by taking him to play, he rewards her by smacking her on the head with his laser gun.
This takes Carrie out of the game mentally, and she decides she’s done playing. This marks the beginning of us really seeing Aidan’s struggle with Wyatt because he tells Carrie not to make Wyatt feel bad about hitting her… was it actually an accident or did Wyatt really hit Carrie intentionally? It sure seemed intentional, but the kid is fragile so Carrie can’t wallow over her assault for long.
Later that day, Aidan’s oldest son Tate shows up, along with Aidan’s ex-wife Kathy (Rosemarie DeWitt) and her boyfriend Bob, for a family birthday party. Kathy thanks Carrie for the Adderall she brought – at this point, we’re still not aware that this was a point of contention between Kathy and Aidan, but fortunately, Boyfriend Bob is here to spill all the dramatic Shaw family tea. Apparently Aidan’s not a fan of Boyfriend Bob butting into family stuff, but Boyfriend Bob and Kathy both think Wyatt should take all the Adderall, while Aidan objects. Boyfriend Bob, what would we do without you? When Carrie tries to talk about this with Aidan after Boyfriend Bob blabs the hot gossip to her, Aidan becomes very short with her, gruffly telling her, “Carrie, not tonight.” It’s the beginning of a new side of Aidan Carrie hasn’t really seen, the father under serious pressure to help his child. I haven’t seen anyone on TV this stressed since Jerry slept at Kramer’s apartment and the Kenny Roger’s Roasters light kept him up.
The family (minus Boyfriend Bob) sits down for a game of Apples to Apples and as they try to fake their way through some normalcy, it’s clear that Wyatt’s energy is heavy around them. He’s sullen, gets angry at everyone’s game play, and criticizes everyone. His brother’s aren’t sympathetic to Wyatt – theirs is an honest response to his behavior, while Aidan coddles him and Kathy grows frustrated that there is a solution to the problem sitting right there in the medicine cabinet but Aidan insists their addict son shouldn’t be on more meds. Ultimately, Wyatt storms off screaming, “Nobody cares about me!” Carrie observes all of this and tries to keep to herself, realizing this isn’t her place to butt in, and honestly, she starts to realize why Aidan needed space. As Kathy and Aidan trade heated parenting barbs, the brothers continue to antagonize each other until Wyatt takes a rake or hoe or some such tool, and smashes it into the window, shattering it, yelling “Fuck you all!”
Carrie is more charitable than I, because if I had witnessed this I’d probably get myself out of that whole situation – the house, the relationship, all of it – without a second thought. Getting involved in someone else’s family dynamics can be a beast. But after Aidan takes a midnight swim to clear his head, he and Carrie have a heart to heart. Carrie is actually apologetic, telling Aidan she didn’t really believe he needed five whole years to focus on his family. “You need to be here. And without me,” she tells him, admitting that her trip to Virginia was, in a way, a mind game she was playing to test whether they really did need space. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asks. And, perhaps because she’s still nursing a traumatic brain injury from laser tag, she assures him she’s not, and gives him a key to her house so he can come visit her when the time is right. “No more games,” she tells him.
On the flight home, Carrie checks her phone to see whether the big, dumb table she wanted to buy is still available. She had waited on Aidan’s approval before getting it, and after discussing it with him, she came to realize that it meant nothing to him, and everything to her. When she pulls it up, she sees that it has sold. The table was a symbol of their relationship, rugged and elegant playing off each other. The fact that the table is, well, tabled? Well, ain’t that just a metaphor for life.
Honorable Mentions for And Just Like That Season 3 Episode 4
- The entire dynamic between Harry’s father and 10F was bonkers entertainment, I love that this is where Charlotte’s life has ended up. “Does poly want more brisket?” “I’d love to take some home if there’s a spare Tupperware!” (I’m also here for the youths explaining to the olds what poly is.)
- I shouldn’t be surprised that Carrie has never played Apples to Apples but I also don’t believe she had a childhood so it tracks.
Liz Kocan is a pop culture writer living in Massachusetts. Her biggest claim to fame is the time she won on the game show Chain Reaction.
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