When I call my dog, she comes automatically. It’s a compulsion activated by dopamine, a chemical that ignites the brain’s pleasure centers with anticipation, the possibility of some reward. In Sex and the City, it was the possibility that Mr Big might finally commit that kept an obedient Carrie Bradshaw running back for six consecutive seasons. The euphoric rush of dopamine lies at the heart of compulsive behaviors like these, sending dogs faithfully back to their owners, and otherwise intelligent women into the arms of emotionally unavailable financiers. It’s the science behind watching a television show you categorically dislike, solely for the possibility that maybe, eventually, you’ll get a good episode.
We’re talking about And Just Like That, the SATC reboot that, over the last 10 weeks, might have delivered two, maybe three good episodes tops. Audiences spent the majority of its run voicing outrage at the misadventures of Miranda Hobbes, the abandoned plotlines and abrupt character reversals, and most of all, the implausible dialogue of “Miranda! I’ve done a ton of weed.”
