Do you watch The Gilded Age? I do!
When I first saw it, I thought, “Ah yes. The American [version of] Downton Abbey.”
And that’s not at all an unfair comparison, as both series were created by Julian Fellowes.
Currently the show is in its fourth season. I’ve got a few spoilery thoughts on last night’s episode.
At the top of the show, the review of last week’s season premiere started off with a fitting quote. “This is going to be such fun.”
And indeed, it was…
Opening clips include Dr. Jidenna aka Dr. William Kirkland, pleasantly saying to Peggy that the wedding planning between her and his mother was going well. Meanwhile, I don’t trust Dr. Kirkland’s mother, Mrs. Kirkland–played by the legendary Phylicia Rashad. In The Gilded Age, a few of the characters have nicknames and I call her Evil Clair Huxtable. And do I trust her?
HA!
Not one little bit.
Cut to the credits and Episode Two has officially begun.
Railroad Daddy aka Everyone’s Favourite Robber Barron, Mr. George Russell, hired The Pinkertons to find out who attempted to kill him last season. Sadly, it was Will Morris, son of the man who took his life after a deal with Daddy took a turn*. Given the Pinkerton’s history of both private security and union busting, I suspect that we’ll see them again soon.
In the meantime, they’ve invaded the Morris’ household to capture Will with George in tow, and he wants his pound of flesh.
While the taking of Will Morris took place under the cover of night, we were next thrust into the daylight, where Big Bertha is seen triumphantly returning by carriage to the museum that she calls home. She and her son Larry caught up briefly concerning her daughter giving birth–nearly at the cost of her life, I might add–in England.
Moving across the street, I can tell you that a few days ago I saw a clip on Instagram where Louisa Jacobson, the actress who plays Marian, said that her character’s attitude was relevant to this season’s arc. And for Marian’s sake at least, I hope so. Because although I understand her professional choices, her personal ones are bewildering.
For those who didn’t see the previous episode, Marian and Junior–Larry Russell–went out, and on their way home in the midst of a rainstorm, one of their carriage’s wheels broke. Logistically, getting home from there would have been a pain, so Marian and Junior ended up spending a night in a nearby hotel. And by “spending a night” I mean “spending a night TO. GE. THER.”
Flash forward to this Sunday. When Marian told Junior that “I cannot look at you without seeing my own shame…” I let out the deepest sigh. In spite of the fact that I understand the historical context of Marian’s circumstances, a part of me wishes that she was able to subvert them.
Call my attitude towards Marian what you will. Modern woman privilege? Yes. In the end, I hope all of this frustration is worth it. I can imagine one or two possible storylines where that ends up being true, but right now in my mind, my cynicism is winning.
Cut to Railroad Daddy. I’m all for him running his business. Except for when he’s running it into the ground. We see him in a meeting with Mr. Rockefeller–his biggest client, according to Larry’s exposition–where he’s being loud and unreasonable. Quite frankly, if it wasn’t for Junior’s presence, their business relationship might’ve been irreparably damaged. Yet does he appreciate his son’s intervention? No.
Last week Evil Clair Huxtable made a point of telling Peggy that she wanted to introduce her to her organization, the Daughters of Friendship. This week over in Newport, moments before one of the Daughters’ meetings, Peggy and her mother–played by Broadway great Audra McDonald–were chatting with a group of young Black women. And for some reason or another it seems that Newport’s finest had great difficulty processing the idea of one of their own having her own career.
I found their response to the fact that Peggy is an author to be incredibly underwhelming and irksome. After Peggy explained what her book was about, one of them managed to utter a brief sentence beginning with, “How interesting…” To which I responded in my head, “What is it that’s ‘interesting’, exactly? The fact that her book has A PLOT?!” Truly, these young women acted as though they were shocked that it took Peggy more than one sentence to explain what her work is about.
To be a woman in society back then when nothing was expected of you–and then to be a Black woman, who faced even further scrutiny and restrictions?
I can only imagine what that must have done to one’s self-image. Contrast that idea with today, when we Black women are encouraged to be educated and proud of ourselves!
Meanwhile, back in Manhattan, Ada hired Jack’s replacement–a young man named Oliver Keith. I can’t recall what he said about his experience during his interview. But I don’t buy for a minute that he’s ever served in a house before. He’s too earnest and chatty and green. While adorable in theory, I’m sure he’s going to be chaotic in practice.
And honestly, I hope the boy doesn’t con Ada or rob her house. For a moment I wondered if his demeanor was a ruse. Meanwhile Ada enlisted Bannister to train up this young man. Cue the flattery, “…with a role model such as you…” Yet my question is, does Bannister want to take on such a task in the first place? With the faces he made while Ada questioned Oliver–I hollered!!–it’s hard not to wonder.
Last week when I was on Threads I saw some chatter about how nice Mrs. Kirkland was being. Meanwhile, I wasn’t buying Evil Clair Huxtable’s act for a second. Normally when someone who’s notoriously unkind is suddenly extra kind, it’s because they’re secretly sharpening their claws.
This proved to be true as we returned to the Daughters of Friendship’s meeting. While introducing Peggy, she quipped, “Miss Scott is a widow herself…” and I think I might’ve shouted, “The HELL?!” or something else quite unseemly at my TV.
I mean really. Why lie? For those who may not remember, the truth of the matter is just as Peggy recounted to her mother: She had a previous marriage that was annulled, as well as a child–who has since been adopted. Furthermore, how is Peggy’s past marital status any of these women’s business in the first place? She doesn’t know them from Adam, and that’s what you lead with?!
But I digress.
Immediately after we were first introduced to the Van Rhijn’s new footman, we see Dr. Kirkland with a patient who needs specialized care. Eventually, he brings said patient, Mr. Davis, to Bellevue Hospital. Although Kirkland wants to accompany him to the examination room, the doctor at the hospital informs him that “Colored doctors are not qualified” to practice there. Instantly I felt sad, sorrowful over the fact that Dr. Kirkland’s qualifications were rendered useless. But this exchange reminded me yet again that although the Black characters of the era were able to function within the New York society, they were able to do so only marginally.
I was glad to see Peggy and her mother, Dorothy, confront Mrs. Kirkland in the aftermath of her remarks. It’s as Dorothy said, when someone speaks savagely about you in public, “Lord knows what [they’ve] said in private.”
I agree wholeheartedly, and I was uncomfortable thinking of the ramifications of Kirkland’s dishonesty. Although my patience for Marian’s behaviour towards her suitor is thin, the fact that women of that time needed to demonstrate an exceptionally-detailed amount of care in their relationships with men is not lost on me. Judgment was–and in various circles, still is–always guaranteed, and could scar her for life.
Nevertheless, I don’t like how Mrs. Kirkland excused her words, claiming that she wanted to make Peggy more relatable to the other women. Personally, I think she wanted Peggy to risk being held in low esteem, as a woman of “ill repute”.
And may I say that I will never tire of seeing Audra McDonald and Phylicia Rashad go toe to toe? Cunning as Mrs. Kirkland is, watching these actress’ counterparts clash is pure art!
Once again we’re in New York, where Bertha has gone to visit her husband at work. “You’re back.” Yes, Railroad Daddy, Bertha is back. Back in the city. Back home. And possibly back in your life, if you’ll let her be.
Don’t muck this up. *prayer hands emoji*
After a conversation in which Railroad Daddy seemed to display everything from annoyance to devotion to his wife, he planted a kiss on her lips. Some will say the scene was par for the course–the Russells are known for their passion for life, and each other. Yet something in the periphery of their interaction left me again hating how George’s addiction has changed his personality.
Next, we were treated to some scenes at the opera–the Met. I tend to enjoy these, as the opera is the seat of society’s gossip and game playing. More to the point, if we’re here, it’s likely because some scheming and dreaming is about to go down. Amongst the upper classes, social strategy is a priority. And I especially like the way that Bertha used a chess analogy when discussing matchmaking: “Children only look at individual pieces. It’s our job to keep our eye on the board.”
But not everyone is interested in arias and arched eyebrows. Junior has a friend who encouraged him to leave and check out another spectacle instead. “The opera’s getting stale. People want something more cheerful. More hummable.” Immediately, I was onto him. I wrote “Russell’s friend is trying to get him to invest in [the precursor to what we now know as] Broadway. I know it.”
Minutes later we cut to Young Russell and co in an otherwise empty audience, watching a group of actors rehearse a musical on stage. “People are hungry for entertainment…” Friend explains. Indeed, they are. Given The Gilded Age’s reputation–virtually everyone with a role on this show is a theatre veteran–I’m curious to see how this plotline unfolds. I predict fun, but also hijinks–quite possibly involving Junior putting money into a show that’s an abysmal failure.
Anywho.
After a pair of carriage vignettes, we see Bertha in hers, arriving at home. Anne Morris is there to greet her on her front steps, and alerts her to the fact that Mr. Russell took her son. They chat for a minute inside, at Bertha’s insistence. But something happened that confused me. Bertha left Mrs. Morris at her house, while she went off to find her husband…
No doubt Mrs. Morris was escorted out immediately thereafter. But the moment gave me pause.
Across the street, Ada and Agnes went at it as usual. At one point after Ada mentioned her plans to get a phone, Agnes quipped, “Who on earth would use a telephone to reach you?”
This line!!!
Instantly, it made me think of a couple of things. First, there’s the matter of just how far technology has come. A phone was once something that people had to go out of their way to use–in the early days it wasn’t a popular household item. The first phones weren’t even a normal local item, depending on where you lived. And now, nearly everyone has one in their back pockets.
I also continue to love and bemoan the barbs that Agnes tosses at Ada. I’ve never worked professionally as an actor. Yet the performer in me imagines it must be fun to fling zingers back and forth with someone. The Gilded Age’s writing is definitely one of its perks.
At the same time, in real life I’ve been the sweet one that people think they can be blatantly snide to. And that’s a type of behaviour that gets old very, VERY quickly. Hence, admittedly, I enjoy the moments when Ada stands up for herself.
I almost forgot to point out that from the moment society’s finest gathered at the Met, Mrs. Curtis, editor of the Ladies’ Home Journal, has been shadowing Agnes. Early on in this episode, she consented to be observed and interviewed as a part of her duties for the Heritage Society. After all, President Cleveland is going to be dining in her home.
While interviewing Mrs.Van Rhijn, Mrs. Curtis asked, “What color should the tablecloth be for such an important dinner?”
She was poised with pen in hand as Agnes answered, and I felt I was watching a tale as old as time unfold in front of my eyes. “This,” I thought, “is how trends were set back then.” Cut to me replaying Miranda Priestly’s “Cerulean Blue” speech from The Devil Wears Prada.
Something tells me that Mrs. Curtis’ article is going to be a hit piece. But we shall see.
I also must say that I appreciate it when this show teaches me about the faux pas of the day. During Agnes’ interview, Oliver brought Mrs. Curtis tea with milk already added to it–something that he didn’t even give her the opportunity to ask for. And the fallout was intriguing, to say the least. (“Not milk in tea!” *gasp*–I scrawled in my notes.)
Apparently this was a serious offense, as even Ada was alarmed. Truly, when she found out what happened, she asked, “Why?” with an almost horrified expression. Needless to say, her reaction made me do a double take: Between the two Van Rhijn sisters, I think of Ada as the relaxed one who isn’t so strict about society’s traditions–so for her to be stunned over tea, that’s saying something.
I’m also glad that this show isn’t shying away from important issues such as Black patient mortality. Poor Dr. Kirkland. “A patient of mine just died,” he informed Peggy.
Remember Mr. Davis, the man that he had accompanied to Bellevue? His wife sent a message informing the doctor of his fate. “You did everything you could,” Peggy tried to comfort her fiance. “Everything I’m allowed to do, you mean. If I had been able to stay…” The good doctor’s reply stung, reminding me again of the history of the injustices that Black patients and medical professionals have had to endure.
Last week on social media various people speculated about Railroad Daddy’s laudanum consumption, and it’s confirmed in one of this show’s last moments as he takes a swig during a carriage ride. In an undisclosed location, he then confronted Will Morris–the young man who had sought to even the score on his late father’s behalf. Their confrontation was intense. Enraged and armed, George came THISCLOSE to shooting Will, but thankfully remembered himself. As a resolution to this strenuous plot thread, the young man and his mother scurried away, vowing to leave New York immediately.
In the aftermath of this gripping exchange, Railroad Daddy came home and roused Bertha from her sleep. I really appreciated one of her last lines. Addressing their fractured marriage, she embraced a fully clothed Daddy as he lay next to her. “I refuse to go on in this half life. It’s intolerable…”
I pray that they get back together. Meanwhile I wonder what she’ll have to say once she discovers her husband’s new habit.
What’s next for the rest of this season?
Railroad Daddy’s laudanum addiction. I wonder what it will cost. I should also look into the Gilded Age’s–the era’s, not merely the show’s–version of rehab, as I wonder what that may have entailed. I fear that George is going to damn near ruin himself–both personally and professionally.
Marian. She’s taken on a job working as a nurse–among other things–in a mission that serves her city’s less fortunate. Meanwhile, regarding her personal life, I’m concerned. Elsewhere, I called what she’s going through a “reverse Edith”, as in Edith from Downton Abbey. (If you know, you know.) But I don’t think there’s any “reverse” about it. It seems to me that Julian Fellowes has something against letting (high society) young women who take on regular jobs have fulfilling love lives. I distinctly remember seeing him in a special on Downton Abbey where he acknowledged that a fan had to tell him to “let Edith be happy”.
Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the idea of depicting cultural norms. But if he’s intentionally bringing misery to Marian, I’m not eager to see what happens to Peggy.
Speaking of Peggy, I want the best for her. But not if it means that she’s going to continue to be humiliated by her mother in law. Hopefully she and her mother won’t be the only ones who work to keep Mrs. Kirkland reigned in.
*I need to check because I don’t remember exactly what happened.