When Bridgerton ushered the vicarious pleasures of lockdown sex and the thrill of the frenetic London party season, even the staidest of Brits succumbed to the delights of this period drama.
Producer Shonda Rhimes and creator Chris Van Dusen bring the Netflix Regency romance right up to date when they hand out 2021 lenses, inviting scrutiny into race, class, and gender. This is achieved with the intoxicating cocktail of an alternate history where racial integration is a royal precedent; the omniscient narrator’s pithy, often brutal commentary on the rigid social mores of the era, and contemporary pop music.
The themes are ably tackled in the first episode with the mysterious Lady Whistedown’s (Julie Andrews) narrative; symbolism, and an audience with a queen of colour.
Despite the gossipy tone which lures the reveller, Lady Whistledown has the full measure of this breed of British high society: ‘Dear reader, I know you.’
She directs the talking points for the day with her newsletters. The long shot of a little boy handing out free newsletters in the lush Mayfair backdrop, and the eagerness with which these ladies of leisure grab them and consume its contents, play out the paradox of her wide-reaching power in this patriarchal aristocracy. She’s one of them but holds a mirror to their unyielding gender bias.
I found the seamless seating of Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuvel) to the throne – an alternate reality that mocks a 2021 world – fascinating. A Black queen leads England in the absence of a troubled monarch. Bridgerton is a catalyst for open dialogue on race during the watershed moment when
royalty and allegations of racism face-off.
The start of the social season unleashes ‘bloodthirsty mamas’ who ‘hoist’ their daughters into the scrum to secure a man of suitable social standing and whose wealth, manners, and properties are benchmarks in a forensic-like audit.
The Bridgerton family comprises the widowed Dowager Viscountess and her eight children. Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), a debutante, has her mother and eldest brother Anthony, on either side. Ironically, this places her in the perilous position of being branded a spinster. Anthony (Jonathan Bailey) highlights the microcosm of another paradox. He repeatedly tells Daphne that he will protect her, but summarily dismisses her suitors and recommends the unctuous Lord Berbrook.
Ariana Grande’s ‘thank u, next’ is the cue for the scene to be fast-forwarded into 2021. When Berbrook attempts to stain Daphne’s reputation, in a nod to
#metoo
Daphne defends her honour and marks him – with a black eye. Her impassioned voice: ‘You have no idea what it is like to be a woman’ is a very Shondaland call for a
modern audience
to ponder.
After a passionate encounter with his mistress, Anthony vows, ‘I will always protect you’. When she replies that every woman won’t be protected, he retorts with the cruel jibe that every woman is not a lady. She’s told in no uncertain terms to stay in her societal lane.
The symbolism of the bee got me thinking. It first appeared on the door of the Bridgerton family home and then in the spring blossoms, followed by a reference to a hive. Does it refer to the order of this community and how it takes generations to infiltrate and ascend social hierarchy?
On the opposite side of the street are the Featheringtons. Lady Featherington’s attempts to secure a match for her three daughters, Philippa, Prudence, and Penelope, are in sharp contrast to her husband’s indolence. Penelope enjoys a warm friendship with Eloise Bridgerton.
Eloise and Penelope are the feminist touchstones for the generation who want to do things differently. When Daphne is late for the ball, Eloise’s strident voice brings the Bridgerton household to a shocked silence. But it gets the job done.
In the same vein, the symbolism in tightening the laces on Prudence’s corset depicts the rigid class and gender mores. Penelope questions if she is able to breathe and her mama says she endured worse in her day. Social aspiration is an art form that is pursued relentlessly for generations.
Amidst this simpering, Simon, the Duke of Hastings (Rege-Jean Page) rides into town providing the perfect eye candy shopping commodity. He sends the mamas into a frenzy as they trip over themselves to snag him. Simon brings the full package to the party: he’s titled, wealthy, and irresistibly unavailable. His thirsty sip from the hip flask readies us for a riveting backstory.
Simon’s and Daphne’s banter underscore their connection and friendship and the close-ups show frissons of sexual chemistry. It is their cunning plot to achieve their individual ends, with their conflicting aims on marriage and children, that makes Bridgerton a slow burn to the inevitable. In an age of instant gratification, this made it a thoroughly binge-worthy treat for me.
Bridgerton aired on Netflix on 25 December 2020.