The Gilded Age Review: Drama So Rich, It Bubbles Right Off the Screen!

The Gilded Age presents a fascinating yet paradoxical spectacle. It dazzles with elements that I adore, like seasoned Broadway actors and opulent headgear. However, despite the apparent lavish budget and meticulous production, the series feels surprisingly insubstantial. The narrative, set against the backdrop of late 19th-century New York high society, unfolds with a procession of ladies in elaborate garb engaging in dramas both significant and trivial, each treated with similar importance. Immersing oneself in the show often leads to daydreams about the extravagant hats.

In the residence of Agnes Van Rhijn (Christine Baranski) and Ada Forte (Cynthia Nixon), a dramatic shift in dynamics has occurred. Following a near-catastrophic loss of Agnes’s wealth by their nephew Oscar (Blake Ritson), a financial crisis looms. However, it is miraculously avoided when it’s disclosed that Ada’s late husband, Rev Luke Forte, had amassed a substantial fortune from his textile business, leaving Ada unexpectedly wealthy. The plot twists in The Gilded Age are so melodramatically rich that they virtually bubble over.

Ada, previously overshadowed, now controls the family finances, causing a role reversal with the formerly assertive Agnes. When Ada becomes involved with the temperance movement, her efforts to persuade the household staff and her family to abstain from alcohol are mostly ignored. This subplot continues for a while. Nixon and Baranski shine in their roles, and it seems that many of their scenes are crafted just to showcase their acting prowess, turning ‘thesping’ into a verb, as evidenced by The Gilded Age. Baranski delivers lines reminiscent of Maggie Smith, such as her retort to allegations of an unhappy marriage: “Unhappy? What is this babble?”

The Russell family, ostentatious even by the standards of the Gilded Age, is experiencing a similar redistribution of power. Initially, George Russell (Morgan Spector) is in the west, acquiring mines and plotting to construct a transcontinental railway. This leaves his wife, the commanding Bertha (Carrie Coon, who also delivers a powerful performance), to take the reins in New York. She relishes her role at the helm, strategically navigating through her children’s romantic entanglements and the elite social circles.

In earlier seasons, it was sometimes difficult to discern whether creator Julian Fellowes was being overly restricted or overly indulgent in his creative freedom. Entire episodes would drag on as the narrative stakes seemed to diminish gradually. Unlike in Downton Abbey, where he introduced dramatic events like the Spanish flu, here the plot often revolves around mere social slights, with lines like, “I hate to pull rank, but my grandfather signed the Declaration of Independence,” and, “What a ghastly gathering.”

However, the series has taken a more entertaining turn. The advent of modernity through railroads and the introduction of commercially viable small clocks bring dynamic changes. Wealth fluctuates, divorce threatens reputations, and Marian (Louisa Jacobson) shocks everyone by taking a job at a regular high school, prompting Agnes to worry, “But won’t she need a bodyguard?” Meanwhile, Peggy (Denée Benton), one of the most engaging characters, is on the brink of realizing her potential for greatness.

Romance is omnipresent, with characters wrestling with the decision of whether to marry for wealth, security, or love, and questioning whether these goals can coexist. International intrigue and the clash between traditional English reserve and straightforward American values add to the drama.

The Gilded Age has evolved from being merely grandiose to delightfully absurd. Far from being solemnly pompous, the show now revels in its pompousness. Count me in.