The Gilded Age Season 1 finale

The Gilded Age: Season 1 Finale Review

“The golden gleam of the gilded surface hides the cheapness of the metal underneath.”

– Mark Twain, The Gilded Age

To gild an object is to ensconce it within a thin veneer of gold. To gild an object is to achieve the desire of making the object more beautiful in a society that values gold and those who own it. To gild an object is to paint over the imperfections of wood, metal, and seemingly character and render them invisible to the shallow and judgmental eye. To gild an object is to create a story whose appearance is that of depth and largesse of narrative riches.

I assume that Julian Fellowes approached The Gilded Age without referencing too deeply the snarling satire of Mark Twain’s landmark novel, from which the era’s name comes from. For there isn’t any in-depth exploration of what it means to live in an age where the wealthiest accrue unprecedented wealth and power while those whose labor is responsible for that wealth are left behind in the literal dust. 

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When Bertha (Carrie Coon) remarks to George (Morgan Spector) earlier in the season that they would build and spend another fortune if they had to, it reflects an attitude of the wealthy in that era that indeed, anything was possible. The problem with The Gilded Age is that Fellowes believes this too and without the degree of depth required to analyze why such a society is possible in the first place and whether such a society deserves to exist in that state. 

When Jack (Ben Ahlers) and Bridget (Taylor Richardson) look upon the grand ball opening at the Russells’ manor, there’s a sense of wonder and awe in their eyes. That’s understandable. I’ve felt that awe and wonder when I was younger and looked upon the grandeur of those whose wealth far outstripped my own. When Bridget wonders whether they’ll ever be invited to an event like that ball, that’s understandable. Whom amongst us hasn’t dreamed of wearing an Alexander McQueen dragon gown to the Met Gala? But when he affirms her question with “This is America” and the show swells with the triumphant promise of the future, my eyes couldn’t stop rolling.

Fellowes believes in the American project. The way he writes that particular scene between Bridget and Jack with an aspirational heft and not one drenched with realism is pretty telling on that front. The reality is that Bridget and Jack will likely never be in the realm of the extremely rich. It’s always possible, of course, but the possibilities are so minuscule, so wildly out of reach, that to pretend that anyone and everyone in America can become wealthy is laughable. 

The reality is that people like Bertha and George will continue to accrue wealth at the expense of people like Bridget and Jack. When Bertha tells George that if need be, they would build and spend another fortune, she’s merely relaying the reality of the age, that wealthy people who lose their wealth are more likely to make another fortune than Bridget and Jack are to make their own. But Bertha and George are the heroes of The Gilded Age in a way where there are consequences to their actions but they are never held to account for their actions.

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George Russell doesn’t face any consequences for the train derailment that killed five men. That feels accurate to the character and the story, but Fellowes needlessly goes out of his way to make sure that the audience knows that George is absolutely not responsible for this turn of events in any way, shape, or form. He’s a good rich man and the show never wants you to forget that. But why? Making George into a more accurate depiction of a robber baron isn’t likely to turn the audience away from his dashing, smouldering good looks. Nor is it likely to make anyone in the audience root for the old money New York characters because they’re neither sympathetic or that well-characterized.

That’s a major mistake on Fellowes’ part because Bertha’s entire fight to gain entry into the vaulted club is the delicious cake at this otherwise mostly bemusing party. Carrie Coon has been terrific throughout the entire season, elevating every stroke of Fellowes’ script with the most minute of facial expressions and body language. And from the first episode to here, you can track Bertha’s growing confidence at achieving her goal just through the quick smiles and smirks that grow across her face. And the look on triumph on her face when Mrs. Astor (Donna Murphy) shows up at her door? Exquisite. It isn’t likely to be smooth sailing for her from here onwards, but this is the journey that has been the most fun to follow and certainly one of the few that has shown any sort of genuine growth and depth at any point.

The same can’t be said for Marian (Louisa Jacobson), a character so shallow and thinly crafted that it almost beggars belief. Her entire characterization is an absolute caricature of a small town girl who comes to the big city and has no idea how the real world works. Nine episodes later, she still has no idea how the world works and it’s wild that anyone with her sense of absolute naïveté hasn’t accidentally been run over by a carriage or something. It doesn’t help that Louisa Jacobson just isn’t capable of carrying this role and there’s the nagging feeling that nepotism landed her a role other actors would have been considerably more well suited for.

That she doesn’t see Mr. Raikes (Thomas Cocquerel) abandoning her for a wealthier woman is honestly fine—whom amongst us hasn’t been screwed over by a man we desperately wanted to believe loves us. But there’s a nagging feeling in the finale that Fellowes wants the audience to believe that there is still some bit of love left in his heart for Marian and there simply isn’t the chemistry, charm, or characterization between these two for the sense of challenged romance coming to fruition. Better to let him be a ruthless social climber and be done with it.

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The brightest spot remains Denée Benton’s Peggy. In the storyline that feels the least touched by the trademark Julian Fellowes nonsense, the thematic undertone of what the Gilded Age means in truth is executed beautifully. Sometimes those reminders are not particularly subtle, like when Peggy constantly explains to Marian how the world works for her as a Black woman, but that lack of subtlety feels authentic in conversations where subtlety often lets white people escape the reality of social injustice that impacts the daily lives of everyone else.

Peggy’s story is a story that showcases how hollow the gilded mythology of America truly is. The injustice of it all, from her and her family having to step back on the sidewalk when white people want to pass by, to her having to use the back door to enter into a home in Manhattan, to the editor who asks that she erase her identity in order to be published. The injustice of a country who treats the very people whom it forced to build it with such hatred, scorn, and cruelty. The burden of having to carry all of that ancestral and present harm from one day to the next.

There is a sharpness and truth to Peggy’s character that isn’t present anywhere else in the show and in that truth is present the ferocity of a woman committed to charting the path she wants for herself and not the path others laid out before her. She wants to be a writer and she became one. Not without obstacles, not without plenty of people around her doing their best to make sure that she would lose faith in the goals she had set for herself, not without a society that deemed her very presence unwelcome. But she did it. And now she’s determined to reunite with her son and if society, including her father, deem it worthy of rendering her further invisible, Peggy is determined to be anything but.

Season Grade: C+

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Best Gown:

– Bertha’s triumph at the ball gown

Best Quotes:

– “Isn’t that against the law? Let’s find out.”
– “Can we at least part as friends?”

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Season MVPs:

– Carrie Coon and Denée Benton before the camera
– Salli Richardson Whitfield, Sonja Warfield, and Erica Armstrong Dunbar without whom this show would have been considerably poorer
– Costume Designer Kasia Walicka-Maimone

Notes:

– I recognize that this review is harsh but the show isn’t living up to the potential it initially displayed and I would genuinely like it to be better than it is now when it returns for a second season.
– The storyline where Baudin (Douglas Sills) was revealed to be from Kansas and not, in fact, a French chef is thematically beautiful but executed terribly.
– Why does Carrie Astor (Amy Forsyth) not have better gowns? Someone please explain.
– I really enjoyed Aurora’s (Kelli O’Hara) character and I look forward to seeing more of her.
– That quadrille was so awful that I immediately had to watch several Madhuri Dixit dance numbers to cleanse myself.
– The beautiful full season score from Harry and Rupert Gregson-Williams is available now.
– Give Carrie Coon and Denée Benton Emmys NOW!



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