“An epoch which had gilded individual liberty so that if a man had money he was free in law and fact, and if he had not money he was free in law and not in fact. An era which had canonized hypocrisy, so that to seem to be respectable was to be.”
– John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga
The Gilded Age is, at its core, a story of hypocrisy. This story simultaneously builds up the narrative of a particular society while showcasing exactly why that narrative is false. The ways in which that narrative is catastrophic is perhaps beyond the scope of what a show like The Gilded Age, predominantly written by Julian Fellowes, is interested in exploring or is capable of analysing. But the falsehood of that narrative, regardless of how the series handles it by the time it concludes and the overall arc is illuminated, is pertinent and significant.
In episode three, still the season’s best so far, that iconic camera framing of a looming George Russell suggested that while the audience may be rooting for the new money characters to topple the old, one would be correct in being wary of just how far that support should go. At the end of the day, the Russells are still incredibly wealthy barons whose grand palace shields them from much of the suffering born by those whose labour creates that wealth.
The hidden irony of Bertha’s quest to martial her family into the society controlled by Caroline Astor’s gloved, iron grip is that she carries with her the fervour of a revolutionary but she isn’t fighting for one, quite the opposite. That she wants to be included as an equal and not a subordinate is relatable. That she wants advantageous prospects for her children is relatable. That she fights back against the belittlement so constantly foisted upon her is relatable. She knows that it shakes the foundations of Caroline Astor’s world to see people like her inhabit it but with such shallow foundations, what will she build? Put another way, if this mean that Bertha simply ends up fitting neatly into the people belittling her now, well, what then?
Even the aspect of charity in this mirage of polite society serves two functions, as Agnes aptly points out. The first is to provide for the less fortunate and the second, more pernicious aspect, is to establish a pathway for the wealthy to connect to the more “respectable” societal class who have inherited that respect through the wealth of their forebears. But that the wealthy remain wealthy in spite of this mirage of largesse in their charitable donations isn’t brought up to question as much as it should. We see that in our own society now, where the wealthy evade their responsibilities through taxation and even basic governance through the appearance of philanthropy. They gain the goodwill, some people are undoubtedly helped, but they remain staggeringly wealthy.
Money purchases goodwill, the type of goodwill that will ensure that you are equal in law and superior in reality. John Galsworthy’s quote doesn’t just apply to the modern robber barons who evade their responsibility through the deception of aristocratic and corporate philanthropy. A railroad operated by George’s company has had an accident, five people are dead, and as just so happens, Bertha is now heavily involved with the Red Cross. So the Russells will appear as good benefactors and responsible corporate stewards but five people lost their lives and five families may never recover.
Julian Fellowes has a remarkable talent for dramatic moments but he has also rendered his pen predictable in certain ways. The way he treated both Lord Grantham and Mr. Bates on Downton Abbey concerns me that he’s going to treat George Russell in a way that takes to heart the idea that he’s a rich man who cares. And while I would allow Morgan Spector’s George Russell to do things to me that I cannot repeat in a professional review, I am under no illusion that George is a man who built his financial empire through ruthless brutality and not just determination, a vision, and an enviable work ethic. I know that his fortune was built in truth by those whose labour puts his vision into practice, but I fear that Fellowes does not. More on this in the coming weeks.
Best Gown:
– Bertha’s orange and blue gown is the stuff dreams are made of
Notes:
– The thing with screeners is that when you catch up, your outlines for reviews change and I will push back my discussion of the Russells’ relationship to a future episode because honestly, it just fits way better.
– Mrs. Armstrong gets a bit of a backstory this week, but the sympathy of her facing so many difficulties in life can never make up for how much she remains committed to being a hateful bigot.
– Audra McDonald’s note that in Brooklyn, Peggy could walk through front doors and not back entrances, was powerful.
– Marian’s “I hadn’t thought of that” in response to what it means to be able to walk through a front door and not only the back – things haven’t changed much in terms of how many white people still approach the realities of what it means to live in a country that hates you.
– Nathan Lane is a delight and he should win an Emmy for his facial work with that moustache alone
– Anne Morris, even in her widow’s grief, is committed to being a racist at a charity function so read into that an indictment of this entire societal construct.