The Gilded Age Puts the Status in Status Quo

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In the vein of its creator’s previous TV series, ‘The Gilded Age‘, characters are perpetually poised on the brink of momentous events. They’re filled with anticipation, discussing and speculating about these impending occurrences. There’s a sense of fear and excitement regarding the next significant change in their circumstances. Watching a group of ladies chattering in grand dresses and elaborate hats brings a feeling of impending significance. Although most of their worries rarely materialize into real, substantial issues… it doesn’t matter. It’s ‘The Gilded Age’. There’s always the looming possibility of a crisis just around the corner.

One significant advancement in the series compared to seasons one and two is its skillful preservation of ambiguity regarding major character developments throughout most of the storylines. While season two was heavily influenced by the captivating opera-war narrative, Bertha Russell’s victory was a sufficient justification for the season. However, it left several secondary characters, such as Louisa Jacobson’s Marian Brook, with unclear reasons for their involvement in those episodes. Season three, on the other hand, is doing a better job of balancing multiple storylines. For instance, Marian is developing a budding romance with Larry Russell (though his romantic chemistry with the clock-making footman from across the street could have been more exciting), and the Van Rhijn household has experienced a power shift: Agnes was previously in charge of financial decisions, but now Ada holds all the purse strings. Despite her newfound interest in temperance, Ada maintains the household’s status quo, including the fact that one comment from Agnes can still bring the entire household to its knees. Additionally, Peggy Scott and her parents have progressed beyond historical references and plot points about prejudice to integration into Newport’s Black high society, a narrative thread that aligns more closely with the show’s broader themes.

In every instance, “The Gilded Age” remains captivated by George and Bertha Russell, whose relentless ambition drives them to expand their financial and social dominion. The third season’s decision to place them on distinct paths generates the majority of emotional conflict. While George employs the family’s wealth to acquire every small-town railway line, aiming to create an expansive transportation network that would earn him the longest route in a game of “Ticket to Ride,” Bertha culminates her most significant social achievement by arranging their daughter Gladys’ marriage to a genuine English duke, thereby ensuring the family’s cultural influence for future generations.

In episode four, Gladys’ long-awaited wedding ceremony serves as the season’s crowning achievement. This episode showcases the best of what “The Gilded Age” has to offer – opulence, grandeur, and a captivating blend of elation and apprehension. The series truly shines when it stages extravagant productions, and Gladys’ slow procession through a meticulously adorned church, with an air of someone walking towards the gallows, is particularly mesmerizing. While “The Gilded Age” is known for its lavish attire, it’s Taissa Farmiga’s performance as Gladys that truly elevates this episode. Every second seems to hint at her imminent escape, and each close-up of her face underscores the reality that saying ‘I do’ is far more terrifying and horrifying than any social uproar from a runaway bride could ever be.

Carrie Coon, playing Bertha Russell, has been instrumental in defining the emotional landscape of “The Gilded Age,” skillfully guiding where the show shines best. However, her relentless dedication to the story’s absurdity creates space for Farmiga’s heart-wrenching portrayal of Gladys. Despite the show appearing to be a flimsy confection of spun sugar, spite, and hasty research, there are moments when it genuinely feels like a tragic turning point has arrived.

Admittedly, the previous season did feature a plot line where Ada, an elderly spinster, found a deeply emotional romance with a kind minister who then departed, rather hastily, as if alerted by a car alarm. Yet, “The Gilded Age” seems surprisingly casual about death. It’s a reality that occasionally arises, but given Ada’s recent consultations with a spiritualist to communicate with the deceased, it seems she is not entirely fazed by it.

However, the potential for divorce – now that’s real drama! It carries a palpable sense of tension and uncertainty, unlike death in this show.

It’s unclear if the events of season three will lead to lasting changes, as humorous instances like the Van Rhijns gaining a new source of income from the late reverend’s textile empire, a footman unexpectedly amassing wealth, and a former lady’s maid plotting against the Russells indicate that the show may not be significantly affected by Gladys’ wedding.

Standing at the altar, Gladys gazes at her new husband, but “The Gilded Age” manages an astonishing sleight of hand. This turn of events could potentially make a difference this time. The series revolves around a fortune’s wheel that spins from prosperity to calamity and back, and it does so swiftly, usually within two to three episodes. Soon enough, the wheel that has been leading everyone towards ruin will begin spinning towards success once more. Characters may switch positions, often moving to adjacent roles that allow them to keep repeating their actions, but “The Gilded Age” is an intriguingly consistent system. The joy of it, its wellspring of over-the-top camp melodrama, lies in its knack for making you think, just maybe, this could be the event that finally upends things. Rest assured, though, it won’t! It never does. Unless, perhaps…

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2025-07-14 23:54