Has it come to this? Am I really reduced to blogging about Bridgerton?
As has perhaps become apparent, I'm not the greatest fan of this sumptuous smash hit of a Netflix series. That it should be my kind of thing has only made me more irritated with it when it's fallen short. To be honest, though, my biggest gripe with the show is not the languid pacing (wafer-thin main plots drawn out over eight hour-long episodes per season) or its shallow characterisation but the baleful influence the Bridgerton universe has had on costume dramas as a whole.
From the very first trailer, it was clear: this is Regency England, Jim, but not as we know it. Inexplicably, as it seemed then, the Regency ton was depicted as prettily and modishly diverse. It was as anachronistic as if a Rolls Royce had driven through the streets or the Queen had consulted an iPad to keep track of social events.
The series later made clear that what we were looking at was an alternative universe, one where George III married a feisty African princess called Charlotte instead of a retiring German princess called Charlotte. Still, the conceit has never quite worked for me. Here's the thing: aristocracy is based on heredity. That's why many, including me, aren't frightfully keen on it. The older the family, according to this kind of thinking, the higher the prestige. The real English Regency élite would not have welcomed foreigners from far-off lands, even if they were high-born in their own countries, into their inner circle without a grumble. Much less would they have allowed the interlopers to supplant local families, at least not without a social upheaval equalling the one taking place in France at the same time. No revolution has shaken the Regency society of Bridgerton, however: the social mores of the ton remain what they've always been.
So what of it, you may ask: can't I give this one series a pass? After all, the premise, far-fetched as it is, has allowed the showcasing of talented actors who would otherwise not have been given the opportunity to try their hands at Regency foppery. And yes, I would be prepared to accept Bridgerton on its own terms, if it hadn't been for the domino effect. The show's success has led to even more wildly unhistorical imitations which don't even bother with the alternative-universe excuse, like the Netflix Persuasion or the episode "Rogue" in Doctor Who. Ideology is trumping common sense when it comes to period dramas; you can even see it in high-prestige projects like the final series of Wolf Hall. This is not exclusively Bridgerton's fault, but it makes its self-congratulating tone hard to bear.
All right then, let's say Bridgerton takes place in a realm entirely separate from any historical reality, a little like the fairy-tale realms of Once Upon A Time. How well does the actual drama work? As mentioned, I have been underwhelmed by previous seasons, but season four was a welcome surprise, and not only because it was an adaptation of sorts of the classic Cinderella story, something I am a sucker for.
Yerin Ha makes an enchanting romantic lead as Sophie. I was less sure about Luke Thompson's Benedict, but their chemistry carried all before it. The episode where they got to know each other under the watchful eyes of Benedict's old retainers, Mr and Mrs Crabtree, while Benedict recovered from an attack at his "cottage" (a minor mansion), was a delight. Elsewhere, the subplots knitted together better than I'm used to from Bridgerton, and the character moments between the Bridgerton family members actually carried some weight.
I was particularly pleased to see that Eloise, whom I have wanted to like (as Claudia Jessie is quite winning) but who I must admit has been a bit of a pill in previous seasons, was finally mending her ways after having been called out on her self-absorption by her younger sister Hyacinth. When she reconciled with Cressida, a supposed mean girl (more sinned against than sinning in my opinion) who was brutally shafted in the previous season but who now finally gets her happy ending, I could have cheered.
The season ends with a perfect hook. Throughout the series, a gossip sheet penned by "Lady Whistledown" has been a continuing connective plot thread. We got to know, somewhat too early in the series, who the Lady was, but now someone else has taken over the role, unbeknown to the original writer who has given the sheet up. I find myself quite engaged in the mystery. Bridgerton has won me over: just don't confuse it with history.
