It’s time to come clean: I love me some Che Diaz (Sara Ramírez.) This wasn’t always the case; like basically anyone who watched the first season of HBO’s Sex and the City revival And Just Like That, I found the character ubiquitous, unfunny, and downright annoying. However, by the last episode of the season, I found myself oddly compelled, and now, three episodes into the second season, I’ve come to the conclusion that I f*cking love me some Che (like Cynthia Nixon’s Miranda) and I look forward to them popping up in whatever scene the writers have shoehorned them into.
Let me tell you why.
Sara Ramírez is exceptional
First and foremost, to love Che is to love Sara Ramírez‘s portrayal of Che. My absolute favorite part of their (Ramírez is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns) performance is that they know Che is almost universally hated by the show’s viewers by season 2. They admit as much in this profile by The Cut:
Back in the park, Ramírez waves away the side-eyes about Che, saying, “Anybody who benefits from patriarchy is going to have a problem with Che Diaz.”
Now, a lesser actor would want you to know they’re in on the joke of Che being hated. There would be subtle tells in their performance that they know how people feel about this character and would give a “wink wink” to the camera to let you know they feel the same way. Not Ramírez. She plays Che as straight as possible, with a seriousness and intensity that I adore. It takes a lot of guts to get on a high-profile show with beloved legacy characters, play its most hated character, and never once bend to the pressure. I can’t imagine the feedback towards Che is fun for Ramírez to hear, so for them to continue, changing nothing about their portrayal of Che? That’s a baller move.
Che Diaz themself
OK, so look, I hated Che for most of season 1—not because Miranda left Steve (David Eigenberg). That was whatever. It just felt like Che was shoehorned into every scene, and they did some weird s*** that we were supposed to find hot?! For instance, getting busy with Miranda in Carrie’s (Sarah Jessica Parker) kitchen while Carrie was in mourning and convalescing from surgery in the next room. That’s bonkers behavior for anyone, especially anyone out of their early 20s. Like, there is a time and place for getting down with someone, and that was not the time, Che! (Also, it might just be me, but I find it rude to just go to town on someone in someone else’s home. Somebody write that question in to Miss Manners and get a definitive answer, would you?)
The other incident that springs to mind was shotgunning weed into Miranda’s mouth, which I’ve embedded above. There is so much wrong with that scene. First, who smokes in a bar!? Smoking indoors automatically makes you an a-hole. Second, the show clearly wants us to think the shotgunning is hot, and it’s just not (for me at least.) Sorry, Che!
Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention that Che’s standup is tragically unfunny, which makes the scene where Miranda is making herself a drink and laughing to Che’s podcast while on speakerphone hilarious, and not for the reason the show wanted. (Side note, I strongly suspect that a standup comedian did not, in fact, write Che’s material for the show, as evidenced by this clip.):
The scene that finally flipped the switch in my head from hating Che to craving them happened in the season finale, and it was so unhinged that I began to appreciate Che for the performance art they were.
Here it is:
There is no overlap in the Venn Diagram of people who don’t have time to tell their loved ones very important news that may upset them in an intimate setting and people who have the time to locate an all-female-presenting band and rehearse a situation-specific cover of the Beach Boys’ California Girls. From that point on, I began to love Che Diaz for the absolutely bonkers character that they are, so much so that I no longer die a little inside when the show inserts them into scenes they really don’t need to be in.
For instance, in episode 2 of season 2, Carrie calls Che to ask about her hot producer hookup’s male perspective, and even Che is like, “Why are you calling me?!” It’s hilarious because in the previous episode, Carrie had spent a lot of time with another character, Jackie (played by Bobby Lee), who spent just as much time with the producer (onscreen, at least) and could have given her the male perspective Carrie was craving. Yet the show decided Che was more appropriate. LOL.
Che makes a mediocre show memorable
Ultimately though, what I love most about Che is how they elevate a horribly mediocre and underwhelming show into must-watch (hate) viewing.
Be honest: Do you remember anything about season 1 (other than the big death) that didn’t involve Che? I sure don’t! Che evokes strong feelings, and frankly, for me, saves And Just Like That. As a woman of a certain age, I watched Sex and the City during its original run, and some of the storylines felt deeply cathartic and empathetic as I navigated my own dating and social life. The revival felt out of touch, clunky, and worst of all, mediocre. Whether you attribute that to the writing or Kim Cattrall’s obvious absence, the result is the same. The show is a shadow of what its predecessor was.
With Che in the mix, at least bonkers things will happen that will infuriate me and keep me engaged. Che allowed me to stop watching through the lens of what Sex and the City was and instead embrace the performance-art levels of absurdity that And Just Like That is. It’s to the point that I have a burning desire to see their dynamic with their ex-husband (Oliver Hudson), who we met in the second episode of this season. Yes, friends, I never thought I’d say this, but give me more Che-specific storylines!
Obviously, Che is not everyone’s cup of tea, but they are the character that gets the most online presence because people love to hate on them. There’s something to be said for that, and once you learn to stop fighting the presence of Che, you may just find you’re in the same boat as me here: craving you some Che.
(featured image: Craig Blankenhorn/HBO Max)
