This is a preview of the pop culture newsletter The Daily Beast’s Obsessed, written by senior entertainment reporter Kevin Fallon. To receive the full newsletter in your inbox every week, Sign up here.
My therapist said Che Diaz couldn’t hurt me.
However, I can’t help but wonder, how long will it take for these scars, this trauma caused by the most indisputable character on TV, to heal?
I And like that… defender. Yes, there are moments from HBO Max shows Sex and the City A sequel series too painful to watch, but I find there are some real similarities to it. It is impossible for these characters to adapt to a new generation and age of social mores without swinging their daggers in an attempt to navigate things.
Is this different from the ambitious and exciting feelings in the original satk? naturally. But in a great article for Vox this week, writer Alex Abad-Santos emphasized how that could be the goal. He wrote the series “finds insane comedy in the humiliation of life.” Rebooting “It’s not just about being cool. It’s about calculating your obsolescence.”
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Whatever the case, the series is nothing if not polarizing. For everyone who takes pleasure in the indefatigable charm of Sarah Jessica Parker every week, there are those who seem personally offended by the series’ declining quality. (I think it gets better every week. On the other hand, New YorkerEmily Nussbaum, considered a reference in the legacy of the original series, chirp, “Well, I made a 5.5 eps sequel to SATC. I’m out. It’s not bad fun, it’s just bad.”
However, in these divisive times – in all matters of Carrie Bradshaw or otherwise – there is comfort in knowing that one thing seems to unite us all: the ferocious hatred of Che Diaz’s character. and like that…
There is no exaggeration how impossibly this character is. It is not an exaggeration to describe them as unwatchable. “Cringing” is not a strong enough verb to describe what the body does reflexively when it is on the screen, such as a bodily defense mechanism. It’s a lot like elaborate tuck-and-roll off the sofa followed by the army crawling to hide under the bed before letting out a high-pitched shriek of “No!” Like the one I learned to do from Oprah during an episode of her talk show on how to protect yourself from being kidnapped.
played by chi instinct anatomy alum Sara Ramirez, is one of the new characters added to the series in Awakening Panic, and aims to address the original run’s fundamental sin of unforgivable whiteness – a lack of variety that of course needs to be rectified in any kind of reboot or revival. Many of these characters are truly captivating; I love the friendship that is being formed between Kari and Sarita Choudhury, Seema Patel, a dynamic that is beginning to fill the void in Kari Samantha’s friendship, if not necessarily the unexcused obscenity.
However, every moment that Che Diaz appears on the screen is very painful.
They are Carrie’s non-binary boss, a pansexual boss, who hired her to co-host a podcast about sex and gender. It’s actually a clever creative decision to introduce a character that forces these outstanding, white baby-boomer billionaires to stumble on their way to a progressive mindset.
It’s nice to see how casual yet serious Carrie is about taking Chi’s identity at face value and getting used to using different pronouns. Che will provide a mirror through which Charlotte begins to understand her daughter that she is kind of beautiful. A telegraph was sent a mile away that they would be the catalyst for Miranda’s sexual awakening. The story is good, although it is almost impossible to watch Che’s things themselves.
How unfortunate that such a character is so outrageous. Nobody Wants To mark the only new LGBTQ+ character in the series as the worst. However, Che Diaz left us no choice.
There should be talk of sex, sexuality, and weirdness in the modern age Sex and the City Says. It should be disharmony. It must be destabilizing for these women. It also has to be logical, and delivered in a way that remotely resembles how an actual human speaks or acts.
Whether it’s the content of their podcast or all that is said in what has become the four most horrific words of the last 12 months of TV – “Che Diaz Comedy Party” – whatever tension, enlightenment, or intensity is supposed to happen in the country with all the bliss I stumble upon. It holds my laptop’s charger cord while I wake up for another glass of wine on a Friday night.
It’s not provocative, and certainly not smart. In fact, it is as if a far-right expert or innovator has been mocking or mocking those conversations and left-wing addiction. This is how wide and obtuse it is.
“It’s not provocative, and certainly not smart. In fact, it is as if a far-right expert or innovator has been mocking or mocking those conversations and left-wing addiction.“
It’s hard to watch the interactions between Miranda Che and Cynthia Nixon. This is not due to any inconvenience of discovering a queer attraction. This is because Che is disassembled. Shooting weeds from a vape pen. Fingering in Carrie’s kitchen while Carrie pees in her bed. Miranda instructs to “DM me” if she wants to hang out again. It’s hard to describe the ambiance in words, other than to say the ambiance is unsettling. Every time someone calls Miranda “Rambo,” the angel loses its wings.
Thankfully, Che only appears in the aforementioned kitchen flashback with the finger in this week’s episode, but their presence looms large as a catalyst for a serious discussion between Miranda, Charlotte, and Carrie about what Miranda is doing and how this affair could potentially explode her life. You behaved beautifully. It’s the best scene in the episode. That’s all we can ask for, after going over the past six weeks And like that…: He talks about Che, but it is not necessary to hear from Che.
If, like me, you have had the great ordeal of not being able to remove eyeballs from your Twitter timeline — it’s a disease — you’ve seen that I’m not alone in my thoughts about Che Diaz.
Over the past few weeks, even on the days when a new episode of And like that… Not down, there has been a barrage of posts dragging the character for shit, whether comparing her to an Omicron or illustrating the horror one feels at any time presenting themselves in their podcast: “Hey! It’s Che Diaz!”
Where does Che Diaz rank in the terrible set of TV characters? I’m not sure they’re as bad as Ellis Boyd Smashing Or Dana Brody from homeland. May they give April of Gilmore Girls Run for her money. They’re at least as annoying as Ani from 13 Reasons Why. Is this Cousin Oliver/timidn serial killer? It is too early to tell. This, in fact, is the disappointing thing here.
There is something admirable about the chaos of this series – and fitting for a group of estranged women as life circumstances force them to discover, once again, who they are and what they want from the world, not to mention how to exist in it. It changes around them. However, from what I can tell, the most important talking points so far have not been about that, but about Peloton, the nagging accusations against Chris Noth, and how unbearable Che Diaz is. It would be a shame that the series didn’t get another season because these things overshadowed any real screening of the show.
And just like that, though, Che Diaz, here we go defending the series again.