Here it is at last! The eagerly anticipated "The Gilded Age" has descended upon us, wrapping itself in a tapestry of intricacies. Julian Fellowes, the visionary creator, has assembled an even grander ensemble of characters than usual, potentially plunging viewers into a tizzy of "Hold on, who's that again?" confusion. But fear not, for we shall navigate these waters together!
Where do our tales unfurl? In the bustling heart of New York City, during the era that lent its name to this grand saga – The Gilded Age. This was a time in America, roughly spanning from 1870 to 1900, marked by a confluence of corruption, avarice, corporate monopolies, industrialization, and economic mobility. All these facets will weave their way through the series, lent a dramatic flair that promises endless entertainment.
Let us plunge headlong into the narrative, given that the premiere episode stretches beyond the hour mark, covering a wealth of expository ground. It is the year 1882, and Miss Marian Brook finds herself penniless, a fact her late father neglected to mention. Now, she must make her way to New York City to reside with her affluent aunts. Marian's lawyer, Tom, harbors a clear fondness for her, but for now, let us set that aside.
As Marian awaits her train, she finds herself seated beside an aspiring writer, Miss Peggy Scott, a young Black woman brought to life by the Tony-nominated actress Denée Benton. Peggy marks the vanguard of an array of stellar Broadway cameos in this series, a delight for all musical-theatre enthusiasts. Perhaps the shutdown of Broadway's stages steered these talented souls towards this New York-shot endeavor, a reprieve from the "Law & Order" spin-offs.
Marian's purse goes missing just as the train pulls in, and Peggy, in a gesture of unparalleled generosity, buys her a ticket. This act of kindness follows Marian's accidental tearing of Peggy's dress, making Marian's befriending of this wonderful soul all the more fortuitous. Peggy, forced to board in the final group due to her race, hails from Brooklyn. Marian, unable to secure a ferry due to its non-operation, invites Peggy to stay with her aunts. "What about the Brooklyn Bridge?" you might ask. Precisely my thoughts! Alas, it hadn't opened its spans until 1883, adding another layer of historical authenticity to our tale.
Let's introduce you to Agnes and Ada! Christine Baranski portrays Agnes van Rhijn, a woman who, though not quite the reigning queen of Old New York's high society, holds a prestigious position within its ranks. Her sister, Ada Brook, played by Cynthia Nixon, is a demure yet cheerful individual, whose heart warms at the sight of her beloved Cavalier King Charles spaniel named Pumpkin.
Agnes is characterized by her stoic demeanor, occasional grumpiness, interspersed with moments of humor and kindness. Her late husband was, reportedly, a terrible man. When Marian enters the scene and recounts the tale of Peggy lending her money, Agnes and Ada insist on meeting her. Agnes inquires about Peggy's address, which she hesitates to share but eventually does. Upon seeing Peggy's exquisite handwriting, Agnes expresses admiration. Peggy reveals she learned to write at the Institute for Colored Youth, delighting both Agnes and Ada, as their father was a benefactor and they were frequent attendees of its performances. In a move that fills us all with excitement, Agnes hires Peggy as her secretary – a decision that promises great things, given Peggy's exceptional talents.
Now, let me confess that Marian doesn't quite capture my interest just yet. Perhaps future episodes will change my mind about her! I haven't given up hope for Marian; younger actors sometimes take a few episodes to find their footing. However, in the premiere, her acting seemed stilted, with an overemphasis on enunciation, perhaps due to the setting in a bygone era. Additionally, I couldn't help but cringe when the actress portraying her compared the "calling-card culture" to Instagram. But fortunately, the show is teeming with other fascinating characters!
This era marks a time when the new was pushing aside the old, with the construction of railroads, the creation of empires, and persistent knocking at Mrs. Astor's door. Caroline Astor served as Society's gatekeeper, descended from early Dutch settlers who arrived when New York was still New Amsterdam (and known as "Lenapehoking" by the Lenape Native Americans). She married William Backhouse Astor Jr., a businessman involved in racehorse breeding and yachting – a combination that leaves me rather nonplussed. His grandfather, John Jacob Astor, amassed his fortune by exploiting Michigan's beaver population (an exaggeration, to be sure) and smuggling opium into China, despite the emperor's edict branding it a poison.
So, as you can see, these nouveau riche upstarts, who hadn't made their money through such questionable means, were eager to establish their place in society. Enter the Russells! While the van Rhijn residence exudes a dark, dusty, Victorian opulence, the Russells' Beaux-Arts palace across the street is a colossal, airy, and lavish edifice. Its architect, Stanford White, who would later design the Washington Square Arch and meet a tragic end at the hands of a millionaire at Madison Square Theatre, also had a dark side – a propensity for sexually assaulting underage girls. Let's not dwell further on him.
Bertha Russell, portrayed with excellence by Carrie Coon, is steadfastly determined to integrate herself into high society. Her spouse, George Russell, who heads the Russell Consolidated Trust, embodies the ambitious spirit of a Jay Gould, constructing railroads and amassing a fortune of astronomical proportions. Together, they have a son named Larry, a daughter Gladys (played by the talented Taissa Farmiga), and a servant, Miss Turner, whose intentions of seducing Mr. Russell appear notably plausible. Incidentally, I must express my bewilderment: the actor portraying Larry is a mere dozen years junior to Carrie Coon, and upon his introduction, I mistook him for her sibling. Yet, here we find ourselves in this intriguing tapestry.
Larry belongs to the exclusive circle of affluent youngsters, prompting Mamie Fish (a historical figure in her own right!) to extend an invitation to him for a soiree in Newport, Rhode Island, where he is compelled to engage in frivolous party games. This sounds akin to my personal purgatory. As for Mamie Fish, suffice it to say she was once married to Stuyvesant Fish, and they bestowed upon one of their offspring the moniker Livingston Fish. If these names strike you as the stuff of 20th-century absurdist novels, you would be absolutely correct. Bertha Russell harbors aspirations for her son to ingratiate himself with the Fish family, hoping this association will elevate her own family's standing.
Switching focus to the van Rhijns, pockets of prejudice surface amongst the servants regarding Peggy Scott's arrival, yet a charming butler exhibits kindness towards her. Disappointingly, Broadway luminary Debra Monk displays irritation towards Peggy. Seeking solace, Peggy ventures to a café to meet her mother, who, drumroll please, is none other than six-time Tony Award winner Audra McDonald. Should you be uninitiated in the celestial melodies of Audra McDonald, I implore you to seek out "Wheels of a Dream" from 'Ragtime' forthwith. The full narrative behind Peggy's estrangement from home remains shrouded in mystery, yet it is evident she harbors resentment towards her father. Audra McDonald, a star across Broadway, film, and television, asserts that Peggy will inevitably forgive her father, emphasizing his unwavering love for her. With that, she departs, leaving us with a hopeful anticipation of her return.
Bertha and the van Rhijns find themselves invited to an enigmatic charity planning event, an unusual gathering aimed at training orphans to serve as domestics – a peculiar notion, to say the least. Marian and Ada attend, where they encounter the pillars of Old New York, Aurora Fane and Anne Morris, portrayed by Broadway legends Kelli O’Hara and Katie Finneran, respective Tony Award winners. The sheer abundance of musical luminaries taking on minor roles stands out as a remarkable feature of this series.
Bertha introduces herself and her daughter Gladys to the attendees, who respond with an air of awkward discomfort, save for Marian. It becomes evident that Bertha's invitation stems solely from the charity's financial needs, a fact she is acutely aware of and intends to exploit if possible. The conversation veils a mysterious aura around Mrs. Augusta Chamberlain, with everyone declining to divulge the nature of her scandalous reputation. My heart leaps at the prospect of her being a fictional embodiment of Victoria Woodhull, the early suffragist, presidential candidate, stockbroker, and self-proclaimed medium – a dream casting if ever there was one.
My notes on George Russell's business meeting succinctly state, "A railroad tycoon meets with a capitalist bigwig." George declares his intention to dominate Sandusky, Ohio, with a menacing tone that leaves me questioning whether this is intended as a joke or if Julian Fellowes simply fails to grasp the impropriety of such aspirations. The core message is clear: George is both adept at business and ruthless, embodying the essence of a robber baron.
Bertha decides to host an "at-home" gathering, a venture that seems predestined for failure, given the dictates of fictional narrative. Nonetheless, Bertha remains steadfastly optimistic and orders provisions for two hundred guests. To her chagrin, scarcely anyone attends. Marian, however, manages to slip away from her aunts' vigilant watch to catch a glimpse inside. The humiliation of rejection ignites within Bertha Russell a vengeful fervor akin to that of John Wick, foreshadowing a potentially gratifying retribution against Mrs. Astor and her cronies.
