In the latest instalment of GLAMOUR's Assistant Editor and Entertainment Director's column, ‘Showtime with Emily Maddick’, in which Emily brings a unique perspective to the month's most hyped film or TV series, Emily writes about the Netflix Behemoth, Bridgerton. As the second part of season 3 drops on Netflix today, Emily argues that while the streaming giant’s smash-hit show is undeniably groundbreaking in terms of debunking racial representation in period dramas, its portrayal of women is sexist, regressive and deeply depressing.
When Netflix's first season of Bridgerton landed - to much global fanfare, trumpets, cornets etc - it was, you might recall, in the depths of lockdown; Christmas 2020. I had just turned 40 and I was single. Intrigued by the hype and also impressed with the groundbreaking representation in a period drama, I eagerly settled down for a Boxing Day binge. And dear, gentle reader, I did not enjoy what I saw.
In short, (and I really am loath to use this overused word, but it’s entirely appropriate here,) as a single 40 year-old-woman, I was viscerally ‘triggered’. I slammed my laptop shut in fury after just one episode feeling really, really awful about myself.
Why? Because the entire plot of this wildly popular show, now into its third season, focuses on ‘marrying off’ young women to save them from a tragic, desperate, society-shunned life of spinsterhood; a fate worse than death in the ‘Ton. To be single is to be a social pariah and to have any interest outside finding a husband is to be scoffed at and disapproved of. Yup, for those Bridgerton uninitiated, that’s pretty much the sum total of all storylines on every season (plus some steamy hot sex scenes) and therefore the messaging being ingested by millions and millions across the globe who have gobbled it up as one of Netflix's most beloved shows.
According to the streaming giant, Bridgerton series one and two are in the top 10 of the most watched shows on the platform of all time.
I say this as someone who has, in the past, dated younger men and been subject to all kinds of judgement, shame and double standards.
Bridgerton Season 1 lands at number 4, with 113,300,000 views (that’s 929,300,000 hours viewed) and season 2 is rated ninth most watched, with 93,800,000 views and counting. That’s well over a billion hours of viewing a show that regards women as little more than cattle. Women whose only existence is to be objectified and to find a man - or to be precise, have a man found for them by their families - through the ludicrous process of being ‘presented’ for the season to the Queen in her court.
This problematic messaging is not even subtle or insidious, the dialogue is overt and sexist in every episode I’ve watched. Take for example the current season - (the second half of which landed on Netflix today). Within the opening three minutes of episode one, as all the young female debutantes are lining up to be ‘presented’ to the Queen, all frothy frocks, feathers and fear, the narrator describes these women as if they were cattle at a market. “The crop this year appears to be rather dazzling,” she coos. Agreeable qualities in these cattle-women are such virtues as “exquisiteness” or “mild-manners” we’re told. Miss Stonewall is apparently “thought to be a most accomplished young lady”. Accomplished in what, however, we are not informed of.
Excuse me if I am missing the point here, but there is no irony in the way these women are being described. Sure, the legendary Julie Andrews’ delivery as the narrator Lady Whistledown, does come across as somewhat wry and has a mildly tongue-in-cheek tone to it, but it’s no Graham Norton on Eurovision night.
Yes there are a couple of wilful women who pop up, and Eloise Bridgerton (played by Claudia Jessie) gives a good shot throughout the first two seasons at attempting to actively shun the whole ridiculous rigmarole with her passion for books and hatred of feathered headdresses. However, by the beginning of season 3, things are not looking good for Eliose and we see her (begrudgingly) start to comply with society, so much so that even her hunky brother, Colin Bridgerton remarks that she has become a lot more concerned with the ways of society and how she looks.
There’s also Francesca Bridgerton, (played by Ruby Stokes in season one and two and Hannah Dodd in season 3) who’d rather play the piano than be presented in court, but she too eventually succumbs. “I suppose entering society means I might meet someone, it would be pleasant to have my own home,” she sighs.
“It just felt like the biggest ‘f-ck you’ to all the conversation surrounding my body.”
And then there’s season three’s heroine, Penelope Featherington, played by the ever brilliant Nicola Coughlan. Penelope, of course, we now know moonlights as the ‘Ton’s secret oracle of all gossip, Lady Whistledown - a promising, if sadly secretive career as a writer. Hallelujah! Here we have a woman who has another purpose in her life, I thought. How empowering! But, alas, as we begin season 3, Penelope is full-on realising that to have the freedom to pursue her writing, she needs to be married off and avoid spinsterhood and a life dedicated to caring for her dowager mother. There’s an undertone that Penelope is going to give up her voice and give up her passion for the sake of marriage. And it's depressing.
Now, for all you diehard fans out there, before you get all hot under the collar, please hear me out. Yes I know it’s a period drama and shit like this very much used to go down back in the Regency era. And these were the restraints women lived under back then - in that sense it seems historically accurate (minus the endless sex perhaps?)
And yes I know it's pure fiction (originally created by the author Julia Quinn and shrewdly transformed for TV by the powerhouse that is Shonda Rhimes.) But that’s the point. This, after all, is a show that has become synonymous with the advancement of representation on our screens through the casting racially diverse actors portraying all levels of society in Bridgerton. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it’s probably one of the leading TV shows when it comes to eradicating dangerous and outdated historical notions around race and white supremacy. In keeping with the show’s admirable quest to be diverse, they even have a deaf character, who is subtitled and has a sign language interpreter. It’s impressive and for this, Bridgerton is widely applauded and revered. It’s important messaging.
But what about dangerous and outdated notions around women? It seems that in the pursuit of diversity and representation, messaging around female emancipation and women’s rights and god forbid, feminism has been sacrificed. If I had a daughter, (which I don’t, for remember, dear, gentle reader, I am an unmarried, childless, forty-something spinster), I would not let her watch this. Nor my son for that matter.
Get in the carriage, dear readers, we have news.
Because, as Bridgerton creators and Netflix know only too well, messaging is crucial. Especially when it's going out to nearly a billion people. But, let's be clear, the messaging around women in Bridgerton is thus: all females should be preoccupied with finding a man, no matter what; to be ‘free’ is to be married off; to be single and unmarried is to be a failure and to live a life of misery. Oh and it’s perfectly okay to objectify all women. If Bridgerton can debunk racial representation of the Regency era, then why the hell can’t they debunk historical attitudes towards women? It is, after all, fiction.
Look at the brilliant work Disney has been doing in recent years, undoing sexist tropes in fairy tales and creating empowering, female-led stories as well as putting diversity and representation first and foremost in their globally consumed films and franchises. The list of empowering Disney female leads is long: Moana, Mulan, Merida in Brave and Elsa and Ana in Frozen.
I haven’t watched the fresh crop of new episodes of season 3 of Bridgerton yet and - you might have guessed by now - I don’t intend to. But god I hope Nicola Coughlan’s Penelope kicks it to the patriarchy, causes an almighty scene in society, shuns being married off, starts a breakaway feminist movement that realises this is all a load of bollocks and pursues a career as a writer. But I fear that’s not going to happen now is it, dear, gentle reader? But we’ve still got five more seasons to go (endure?), so I hope you're reading this Shonda Rhymes.
Bridgerton season 3, part II is streaming on Netflix now
For more from GLAMOUR's Assistant Editor and Entertainment Director, Emily Maddick, follow her on Instagram @emilymaddick.
