‘Bridgerton’ was the escape I needed after such a tough year in real life
So, what do I watch now?
The Hubby and I have finished the last episode of what I hope is the first season of Netflix’s hit series “Bridgerton,” and I’m at loose ends trying to figure out how I will fill that after-dinner hour. Should I look for something uplifting? Something cerebral? Something instructive?
Frankly, I’m leaning toward something light, something that will transport me to another time, another place, another dimension. I miss the unabashed fluff of “Bridgerton,” the sharp contrast it has provided to real life. If there has ever been a time when fantasy was desperately needed, when escapism has become essential, surely it is now.
“Bridgerton,” for those of you without a remote control, is a period drama set in London in the early 1800s. Based on the bestselling romance novels written by an American, Julia Quinn, the first episodes follow Daphne Bridgerton, a debutante who is dancing her way through the marriage season in hopes of finding a rich, aristocratic husband. She strikes a deal with Simon Basset, the Duke of Hastings, to fake their courtship, hoping this phony romance will make Daphne more attractive in the marriage market and help the Duke keep pushy mothers away.
That summary of the fun, twisty plot doesn’t do justice to the series, however, namely because there are so many more elements that make this the perfect escapist fare. Let me start with the visuals, all those pink wisteria trees, all those pastel garden colors. They remind me of a candy shop, and how can you not like that?
Then there are the gowns, shiny and silky and revealing. And the hair, those elaborate crimped and curled up-dos that verge on the comical. I am especially enamored of the queen’s elaborate wigs, a precursor, I’m certain, to Elton John’s own fabulist fashion choices.
Oh, and the men. The men! They are handsome and hot and wealthy but still hungry for true love. Has beefcake ever been displayed so visibly for the hungry female gaze?
Sigh. But back to business…
While all this is a sensual feast for the eyes, nothing compares to the racy sex scenes sprinkled throughout the one-hour episodes. They’ve led me to wonder how these were actually filmed. After all, they look so real.
Not everyone is a fan, of course. The Hubby, for instance, indulges in a lot of eye rolling, with most of that eye action occurring during the scenes that include lust-laden looks, heaving bosoms, and panting male torsos. Come to think of it, The Hubby has made his opinion on all this romancing very obvious.
He has sighed audibly on numerous occasions. He has sniggered, snickered and scowled. And he has grumbled under his breath: “Oh, God!” “Oh, please!” And, his most repeated muttering: “Like this would really happen.”
If you’re looking for historical accuracy, “Bridgerton” is not for you. For one, several black British actors have been cast in the role of 19th century aristocrats, namely the Queen, the Duke and Lady Danbury. The sex scenes feature orchestrations of Taylor Swift’s songs, and gowned and cravated couples dance to quartet interpretations of hits by Maroon 5, Ariana Grande and Billie Eilish. In other words, the storyline of landing a husband may be very old-fashioned, but everything else intends to appeal to our modern sensibilities.
Nevertheless, “Bridgerton” is the perfect show for our times. It does not require critical thinking nor does it expect to elicit outrage from its audience. The love-conquers-all theme provides us with unequivocal escapism, a tricked-out magic carpet ride that takes us away, away, away from the pandemic, the Capitol insurrection, the deep hurts of a divided country.
For 60 minutes in a sitting, the exuberant, loving, implausible Bridgerton siblings make me believe in a happily ever after. Nothing wrong with that.
(Ana Veciana-Suarez writes about family and social issues. Email her at avecianasuarez@gmail.com or visit her website anavecianasuarez.com. Follow @AnaVeciana.)
