THE GILDED AGE: My Mind Is Made Up

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No one loves to rip on this show as much as we do, but we have to admit, showrunner Julian Fellowes and his co-writer and executive producer Sonja Warfield managed a nearly perfect season finale, after a series of nearly perfect cliffhangers in the last few episodes. Whatever else we can say about Fellowes (and we can say a lot), the man does know how to spin a story, even if it’s all mostly composed of cliches and virtually none of the emotional responses make sense. The first five minutes of this episode were some of the best in the history of the show. While it’s true that we clapped with delight when the gun went off at the end of the last episode, Fellowes can be quite good at plotting when he’s on his game and the sequence of events that led to Doctor Kirkland pulling a bullet out of George Russell’s chest on his dining room table was meticulously set up. We almost wish the season would have opened on this scene and then spent the rest of it unpacking the events that led to this moment. Gladys’ wedding, George’s business machinations, Bertha’s outrageous ambition, Peggy’s romance and the threat of her secret, Marian and Larry’s troubled relationship — practically every storyline for the season walked right up to the Russells’ dining room. But while there was a lot going on in the scene, it should have had a moment to indicate just how insanely dangerous this situation was for William. If George died on that table, he was not only looking at professional ruin, but possibly criminal charges and only slightly more unlikely, some form of mob justice against him. He doesn’t know these people, so the likelihood that they would destroy him if things didn’t go his way was not a remote possibility. Jordan Donica played this tension nicely, without relying on dialogue to articulate these concerns.

But Fellowes’ occasionally masterful plotting doesn’t always quite work because he’s so bad at unpacking the emotional interactions between his characters. Marian spent the entire night helping to save Larry’s father’s life, she’s sitting there literally covered in his blood, telling Larry that she would do anything for him and that she’s sorry for doubting him after he lied to her about going to a brothel, and he.. continues to act wounded and push her away. Back home, she commiserates with Ada, who says that Larry has a point when he notes that she believed Jack before she’d believe him (something we pointed out as problematic last week), but we have a fairly hard time believing that an old-money former spinster who wound up marrying a preacher and holding temperance meetings would be pushing her niece to marry a man who lied to her about going to a house of ill repute. In unrelated news, it’s clear that Dr. Kirkland never got a chance to talk to Peggy, who seems bizarrely incurious about why he’d call on her unannounced in the middle of the night.

Meanwhile, on The Good Ship CGI, Gladys is worried about her father but she takes this moment to tell the Duke that Schmownton Schmabbey is her home now. He tells her that he’s ready to send his sister packing and kisses her hand, saying “There can only be one duchess.” Every problem solved! An entire season devoted to the horror of selling off your daughter for higher social standing and it ends happily.

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From his massive recovery bed, George orders his hired thug to go after Richard Clay and coldly informs Bertha that she has to continue her plans to hold the Newport Ball because otherwise it would “jeopardize the railroad,” which is ironic because he’s acknowledging that her social plans can have that drastic an effect on his business plans, but continues to sneer at her for being ambitious. After she agrees to continue with the ball on her husband’s orders, Larry sneers at her for doing so. NONE OF THIS MAKES ANY SENSE EMOTIONALLY OR LOGICALLY SORRY FOR SCREAMING. George points out that she is the de facto head of society now because Mrs. Astor’s daughter is embroiled in a scandal while her own daughter is a bona fide duchess. It’s clear that he holds this situation in some disdain but it makes absolutely no sense as to why he does. Bertha showed enormous ambition, the result of which is that her daughter is happily married and the entire family’s social standing has skyrocketed, to the point that her every move could have repercussions on his business. Nothing about this would displease a man like George Russell.

In Brooklyn, Peggy and her mother are giddy over the news that Dr. Kirkland is stopping by with some urgency, believing that he’s come to propose. The smash cut from Peggy’s smiling face to the two of them sitting forlornly across from each other was effective and heartbreaking. “None of my thoughts are clear at this moment,” he tells her, adding that this situation strengthens his mother’s objections to the match. Peggy’s mother consoles her heartbroken daughter, telling her that she’s worthy of a man who cherishes her, but Peggy says she doesn’t believe she is.

Uptown, Ada fills Agnes in on Marian’s latest ongoing drama. Agnes thinks Larry’s smart to question the match and starts going on and on again about how awful the Russells are and how Marian deserves a stable marriage to an upstanding man from a good family. Ada rightly notes that this is exactly what Agnes had and points out gently just how unhappy she was. “Is that what you want for Marian?” Once again, Agnes gets her mouth shut by a family member and this time, she only bows her head in what looks like shame. She’s been getting a bit beat up this season. We wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Fellowes gave her a romance next season. Keep your eyes peeled for any casting announcements that include roughly 70-year-old former leading men. Meanwhile. one of the major stressors in Agnes’s life seems to be initiating a new game plan for himself. Oscar runs into Mrs. Winterton at the opera. We say, “runs into” but it’s more accurate to say that he makes a beeline toward her once Mrs. Fish informs him that she’s a very wealthy widow now. He offers her his services and informs her that Mrs. Russell has taken over the Newport Ball, news that she greets somewhat drily as she notes that she’s speaking to the only man in New York who knows why Mrs. Russell won’t be inviting her. Fellowes didn’t overplay his hand with these two, so the possibility of them entering into an arrangement has turned out to be a deviantly pleasant surprise.

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Mrs. Astor holds a meeting of hideous dresses as Bertha keeps her informed of the progress on the Newport Ball, including the news that she’ll be inviting the filthiest harlots, i.e. her own daughter and Mrs. Fane. Lina has a meltdown about it, right in front of her daughter. She says she can’t be a part of it, she won’t change her mind, and if forced, she’ll make a public issue out of it.

Hot Beard receives Marian in his King’s Chambers to thank her for her help and her discretion, but Larry rushes out of the room, barely able to look at her, which is, we remind you, STUPID. Hot Beard says he’s sorry to have seen them fall out and to our surprise, Bertha says the same, after offering to buy her a new dress. She takes this new accepting attitude even further when she escorts Marian out, telling her of her Newport plans and urging her to give Larry another chance. It’s interesting to note how she constantly refers to “George” and not “Mr. Russell” when speaking to her; an indication of just how much she now considers Marian a peer and a person she can trust. As she’s noted several times this season, she’s sorely lacking in that commodity in her life. “I saw you soaked in blood and helping to keep George alive. I knew then you were no feeble debutante.” That is just about the highest compliment Bertha is capable of giving to any woman. Marian sadly tells her that the choice to continue with Larry isn’t up to her. Special attention must be paid to both Carrie Coon’s and Louisa Jacobson’s efforts in this scene, as they walked down that massive staircase in corsets and bustles, working their way through the dialogue and looking at each other without holding onto a thing while they descend. You try doing that.

Marian informs her aunts of Mrs. Russell’s plans to invite “a cotillion of divorcees” as Agnes calls it. When she mentions that she won’t be going to the ball, Ada prompts Agnes to advise her to go to Larry and admit that she was wrong. The thing is, she wasn’t actually wrong. He lied to her and went to a house of ill repute. Sure, her reaction to it was outsized possibly, but it’s so weird how everyone in the story seems to think she did something wrong. Oscar takes all of this in and, seeing an opportunity, pays a call on Bertha, who is polite but clearly unhappy to see him in her house. She forces him to get to the point and he promises to convince Marian to go to the ball if she’ll invite Mrs. Winterton. “Heavens,” she all but snorts. “I thought the death of her husband had taken her off the board.” “The day will come when you will be as strong as Mrs. Astor,” he says, slathering her in butter. She isn’t remotely impressed by his flattery, but she knows a good deal when she sees one. They form an unlikely alliance.

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Ada surprises Agnes with an unannounced visit by Mrs. Foster of the New York Heritage Society. As per usual, Agnes is beside herself at her sister’s confounding behavior, but it turns out that Mrs. Foster has been pursuing her not for a donation, but to lend her family name to the society by serving as its Vice-President. This is just about the best possible turn of events for Agnes, who is practically (but not totally) rendered speechless by the honor. She is shocked but deeply touched to learn that Ada knew about this because she had written to Mrs. Foster and we reiterate our point from last week that Ada has the same family lineage as her sister, so it doesn’t make much sense as to why she’d be totally ignored in this situation. Granted, we suppose it could be suggested that Ada knew about the offer and passed on it, knowing her sister would be far better suited to it. Agnes, deeply grateful and just as deeply impressed by how well Ada has been running things, tells her it’s time for her to sit at the head of the table.

Jack comes to visit the Van Rhijn house servants and talks about his own servants to them, which annoys Armstrong and quite clearly upsets Bridget. The next day, Bridget shoves her way past Jack’s Irish housemaid and announces that she’s come for a visit because Mrs. Bauer sent over some lamb stew, managing to also offend the cook, we imagine. One thing’s for sure here: if these two really become a couple and get married, she’s going to have to fire everyone on staff because she knows she’ll have a lifetime of them spitting in her food. Still, they are cute together, and while we think this show sometimes overdoes it on the romance storylines, we wouldn’t mind this one at all.

Speaking of servants shoving other servants out of the way, The Duke and Duchess arrive in Newport looking absolutely impeccable, and Adelheid rushes to greet them, shoving a ticket and a wad of cash into Gladys’s ladies maid’s hand and telling her to get the fuck out of Dodge. Hector jokes about enjoying the prospect of Bertha admitting she’s made a mistake, but has she, really? They’re clearly blissful together.

The Brooks women pay a call on Aurora in Newport and discuss the possibility of her attending the ball. “I’ve got the dress,” she tells them, “I’m just not sure I’ve got the nerve,” adding that not even Bertha Russell will be able to stop the looks she’ll get from the other attendees; a fact Agnes greets with a knowing nod of agreement. Ada pipes up that they’ll all walk in together, prompting begrudging assent from her niece and sister.

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Dorothy Scott and her sister are at the dressmakers in Newport, getting the finishing touches on their ballgowns, when Mrs. Kirkland comes into to politely tear a few chunks of flesh off of her. Dorothy won’t have a word of it, and when Mrs. Kirkland starts making snide comments and accusations about her daughter, she bitchslaps her, 1880s style. She tells her that her status in Newport has allowed her to act “without grace, manners or impunity,” but that she, Dorothy Scott, doesn’t give two shits about all that because guess what, bitch? I’M NOT FROM NEWPORT. Then she pushes her in the face as she walks out. Okay, we made up the last part. It is so much fun watching Phylicia Rashad and Audra McDonald throw knives at each other. We’d watch an entire season of that.

William Kirkland accepts the Russells’ invitation and calls upon them in Newport, where he is showered with money because that’s just what happens to everyone in Julian Fellowes’ dramas. Titles, grand houses, and large sums of money are constantly being handed off to characters left and right. If he’d plotted Dallas or Dynasty in the ’80s, every character would have wound up getting their own oil well, including the servants. Once again, it’s interesting to note how Fellowes loves to tell stories about some of the most exploitive people in history while giving them wildly ahistorically benevolent attitudes about racism, misogyny and homophobia. The Russells, awful as they can be about so many other things (including having made disparaging comments about Jewish and Irish people), are shown to be completely free of the overwhelmingly dominant racist attitudes of the era. It’s at least admirable that Fellowes is willing to include and examine the lives of women, gay people and Black people in his period dramas, but he always glosses over the realities of their lives when he does so. The only overtly racist people in this show have been the bitchy ladies maid no one likes, the bitchy doctor who had one scene, and… Mrs. Kirkland.  Having said that, it was nice to hear William dismissively refer to George as a robber baron to his parents.

He also informs them that he won’t be going to the ball, which quickly turns into a scene with both Kirkland men tearing into Mrs. Kirkland for her actions. We won’t say it was unsatisfying to watch, but much like the parallel tag-team girl-hating of George and Larry Russell toward Bertha, it comes out of nowhere. “Woman! You are not above reproach!” says the character who’s barely said more than hello or goodbye before now. Pastor Kirkland has been a total non-entity all season and William has never been shown to be anything but completely conciliatory toward his mother in every scene before this one. Sure, it’s somewhat emotionally earned and definitely cathartic for the audience to see a nasty scheming character get told off, but it needed more of an emotional setup. Fellowes is very good at moving characters around on a playing board, but he’s terrible about explaining their emotions and responses, which often seem to come out of nowhere. The pastor asks to speak with his son alone and essentially tells him to follow his heart. William admits to being unsure about what to do, but let’s face it; at this point, we’re just counting down to the moment, aren’t we?

Meanwhile, Lina Astor sits before her fire and stews. Charlotte comes down in full tiara mode and Lina is disgusted to see that she’s going to attend the ball. She urges her one more time not to go, saying that she will be an embarrassment to the other women in attendance and adding that she’s only trying to protect her. “No, Mother,” Charlotte responds. “As usual, you’re only trying to protect yourself.” Then she pushes her in the face, snaps her fingers at her, and sashays out. We may have made up that last part.

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It is – finally – the night of the ball and Bertha is pre-fussing with Hector, who will be receiving the guests, partially because George is not able, but mostly because he’s a Duke. When Gladys comes in to join them, it was a nice touch to have Bertha’s eyes go straight to her waist without saying anything. Of course a pregnant duchess of a daughter means everything she’s worked for has paid off, but if there’s one thing Bertha Russell is good at besides throwing pointless parties, it’s compartmentalizing, so she doesn’t say a thing and focuses on the task at hand. Mrs. Winterton is the first guest to arrive (a subtly bitchy touch on Fellowes’ part, underlining her parvenu ways). She thanks Bertha for inviting her and we were surprised to hear her respond that she probably knows her better than any other woman in New York. Mrs. Winterton asks if they might be friends and Bertha smoothly says it’s not likely. Shoutout once again to Carrie Coon, who can make the line “Please make your way to the terrace and enjoy our magnificent display of illumination” not only sound like plausible dialogue, but also the nastiest verbal bitchslap you ever heard. Admittedly, the magnificent display of illumination was pretty impressive. We know Bertha said a friendship between her and Mrs. Winterton was unlikely, but now it’s the only thing we want to see — especially if she takes Oscar up on his rather brilliant offer. If there’s one woman in this drama who’d agree to a lavender marriage, especially under the terms Oscar proposes, it would have to be the former Turner. Granted, if she becomes the next Mrs. Van Rhijn and the current Mrs. Van Rhijn finds out that she was once Bertha’s maid (a fact that Larry would know and he’d also more than likely tell Marian if things proceed between them), the ensuing explosion is going to be absolutely delicious. Bring this nonsense on, we say. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Outside of the proposal and the arrival of Mrs. Astor, two events that we could all see coming from a mile away, not much happens in either ball scene, but we enjoyed how the final moments of the season cut back and forth between them, simply letting us enjoy the glamour, the spectacle and the costumes (most of which were lovely this time). As usual, Peggy’s storyline and the stakes involved came off so much more emotionally engaging than any of Bertha’s triumphs or tragedies. Still, we were delighted by the pure camp of Mrs. Astor’s arrival being treated like a moment of high emotional importance. Lina tells her daughter that she came because she wanted her to know that she doesn’t consider her an embarrassment and we laughed at the absurdity of it. Mrs. Fish tells Lina that she should be grateful to Bertha and that she represents the future, a statement that is greeted with a polite snort and a push to the face. Ada picks up Fellowes’ favorite theme and runs with it, telling Agnes that society is changing and that she must accept the new, a sentiment that was expressed on Downton Abbey roughly ten thousand times an episode.

Meanwhile, Peggy accepts a dance invitation from a handsome suitor, but we all know it’s simply a delaying of the inevitable. William arrives, ignores his parents, and goes straight to Mr. Scott and asks for his daughter’s hand. It’s truly to director Salli Richardson Whitfield’s credit that, even after giving away what was about to happen, the actual proposal was ridiculously, deliriously romantic and we side-eye anyone who didn’t get a lump in their throat when the music swelled, the action slowed down, and he dropped to his knee. It should be noted that Fellowes has a history of being very good at these types of scenes.

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Hopped up on laudanum, Hot Beard makes an unsteady appearance at the ball, although we’re not sure how his slightly wobbly showing was supposed to allay any rumor-mongering. Before his appearance, he urges Larry to not let a single disagreement with Marian get in the way of his happiness, and that he must “weigh the value” of what she brings to his life, which was fairly subtle foreshadowing of the thoughts he was having about his own marriage. He ominously tells Bertha that his recent brush with death has him reconsidering some things. Meanwhile, Larry is also being inexplicably bratty, as he tries to reconcile with Marian and then immediately starts scowling and reprimanding her. Still, you can’t have too many happy endings in a finale, so they agree to a dance and a tentative take two on their relationship.

The next morning, George announces that he’s leaving for New York and that he only came to the ball to protect the business. Then he feeds her some bullshit about how he can’t forgive her for making him walk Gladys down the aisle and into a happy marriage and that while he admires that she’s “ruthless” just as he is, she’s ruthless with the people she loves. He pushes her in the face on the way out. The really dumb part is that this storyline would have worked perfectly if Fellowes had just had the nerve to give Gladys a bad marriage. Instead, Gladys happily announces her pregnancy while George drives off and Bertha weeps. It’s high camp ridiculousness and it doesn’t make a lick of emotional sense, but goddamn, if we won’t be seated whenever season four starts up.

[Photo Credit: Karolina Wojtasik/HBO]

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