Buttocks and bosoms! Sex in the dining room! Quickies in the servants’ quarters! JACI STEPHEN’s breathless review of the Bridgerton bonk-a-thon Netflix spin-off that’s – ahem – turning on millions of viewers
Hot steamy sex is back – and who knew it had gone anywhere?
But, after clocking up nearly 400 million ‘viewing hours’ in little over three weeks since airing on Netflix, the new shag-tastic Queen Charlotte: A Bridgeton Story is fertile proof that we’ve all been yearning for some binge-worthy bonking.
Ostensibly, the 6-episode drama is billed as a prequel to the streaming service’s beloved Regency romance. It charts the origin story of Bridgerton’s Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuvel) and the forces that shaped her into the no-nonsense matriarch of the series proper.
We also get a welcome peak into the young lives of fan-favorite characters: Ladies Agatha Danbury and Violet Bridgerton.
But really the whole thing’s just a grand-old excuse for some not-so-soft porn – all set in the gloriously over-wrought Bridgerton fantasy land of camp color palettes, ridiculous wigs and palaces aplenty.
A veritable blur of bodices, brocades, buttocks and bosom.
Ostensibly, the 6-episode drama is billed as a prequel to the streaming service’s beloved Regency romance. It charts the origin story of Bridgerton’s Queen Charlotte and the forces that shaped her into the no-nonsense matriarch of the series proper.
But really the whole thing’s just a grand-old excuse for some not-so-soft porn – all set in the gloriously over-wrought Bridgerton fantasy land. A veritable blur of bodices, brocades, buttocks and bosom.
Clearly, then, producer-extraordinaire and show-writer Shonda Rhimes heeded the criticism of the second Bridgerton season, which some fans derided as boring and relatively prudish compared to the sex-mad first series.
(Interestingly, Queen Charlotte is entirely Rhimes’s brainchild, while the main show adapts author Julia Quinn’s novel series).
Certainly, it has a Netflix-sized mega-budget – and there’s no time wasted.
Within minutes, we’ve met the then 17-year-old Princess Charlotte (India Ria Amarteifio), who hails from an obscure German principality, and learned that she is to marry Britain’s strapping King George (Corey Mylchreest).
Really, their union is a trade deal between the two nations – orchestrated by Charlotte’s elder brother and George’s fearsome mother – that neither bride nor groom wants any part in.
Hunky George resents his Kingly duty to nation and Empire, hopelessly yearning instead to live out his days hoeing the land. That is, alone, topless and covered in mud, with a horse-drawn plough out on his estate.
He insists he’s ‘Just George… Farmer George’, that he doesn’t care for pomp and pageantry, and that instead he’s interested in the sciences and developing cheap solutions to large-scale crop production. It’s all terribly worthy and ahead of its time.
And then there’s 18th-Century feminist forebear Charlotte, who’d rather not have her future decided for her, thank you very much.
‘How joyful it is to be a lady,’ she sarcastically whines from her London-bound carriage.
‘There are worse fates than marrying the King of England,’ snaps brother Adolphus (Tunji Kasim). Quite right! Marrying the Spare, for one.
But, of course, this sexless petulance can’t last long. And, soon enough, it’s sex in the dining room, sex in the bath, steamy sex dreams, extra-marital affairs, quickies in the servants’ quarters, bare bums in the rose garden. You name it, they do it.
Within minutes, we’ve met the then 17-year-old Princess Charlotte (India Ria Amarteifio), who hails from an obscure German principality, and learned that she is to marry Britain’s strapping King George (Corey Mylchreest). But, at first, neither bride nor groom wants any part in it.
We also get a welcome peak into the young lives of fan-favorite characters: Ladies Agatha Danbury and Violet Bridgerton (played by Adjoa Andoh, left, and Ruth Gemmell, right, pictured with Golda Rosheuvel).
The problem is, though, it’s often a tad too unbelievable – even in the make-believe world of Bridgerton.
One moment, Charlotte’s hoisting up her wedding dress and clambering over the wisteria to escape the imminent ceremony. The next, she’s staring dizzily into George’s eyes and kissing him at the altar like it’s her first McDonald’s following a burger famine.
But then it’s his turn to go cold. She’s well up for it. But he isn’t, slinking off instead to his private residence on their wedding night.
Charlotte feels trapped. Terribly alone in a castle stuffed to the brim with servants; like Princess Diana without even a landline for company.
What’s wrong with him, Charlotte wonders? Does he just not fancy her? Is he impotent? Is he diseased? Is he too busy playing which that giant telescope in his observatory? And is the telescope actually a euphemism?
Later we learn the truth of hapless George’s mental health struggle. He’s patently mad and wants to spare his new wife from a life tied to his seemingly incurable illness. But, spoiler alert, brave Charlotte loves him despite it!
This is where the show truly starts to come off the rails. Because, dare I say it, do we really care?
The whole point of the Bridgerton universe is that this is fairy-tale fun for adults, couched oh-so-loosely in a real historical period, and certainly free from all the achingly modern concerns now forced into every damn TV drama.
It’s a formula that’s proved highly successful. So why now try to have the best of two entirely incompatible worlds?
The result is a bit of a mess.
But, of course, the sexless petulance can’t last long. And, soon enough, it’s sex in the dining room, sex in the bath, steamy sex dreams, extra-marital affairs, quickies in the servants’ quarters, bare bums in the rose garden. You name it, they do it.
The whole point of the Bridgerton universe is that this is fairy-tale fun for adults, free from all the achingly modern concerns now forced into every damn TV drama. It’s a formula that’s proved highly successful. So why now try to have the best of two entirely incompatible worlds?
For instance, we have the trailblazing doctor of inexplicable vision who somehow understands George’s mental health issues centuries before penicillin was even invented, only for him to then be cast out and trashed as the villain.
Or there’s Charlotte’s bizarrely misplaced women’s rights activism. She won’t dare let a man tell her what’s what, yet in the next breath admits she’s totally content in her arranged marriage.
And then there’s the problem of race.
Up till now, Bridgerton has arguably been the most successful ‘color-blind’ show around. And that’s because it’s not trying to be real.
Whatever anyone says otherwise, the majority of people don’t find it convincing when, for example, they see a black actor play the role of Abraham Lincoln. It just doesn’t make sense historically.
But Bridgeton is joyously and knowingly fictional. And, as lords and ladies of every creed and color mix happily along, we’re all the better for it.
In Queen Charlotte, however, that’s changed. Suddenly, we’ve been brought back down to reality, and racial divisions are at play.
The Royal court and George’s mother look down on the mixed-race marriage (Charlotte’s black, George is white) as ‘the great experiment’. Some of the white members of society are painted as racists who fail to move with the times. And Charlotte’s brother lectures her on how ‘no one who looks like you or me has ever married one of these people’.
Yet, there’s no great race reckoning. No protests. No statues pulled down. And by the end of the series, it’s almost as if the issue has melted away entirely.
It feels half-baked. Lazy even.
And the same can be said of Bridgerton’s first gay romance – between the King’s right-hand man, Reynolds (Freddie Dennis), and the Queen’s, Brimsley (Sam Clemmett).
The problem is, it’s often a tad too unbelievable – even in the make-believe world of Bridgerton.
The show features Bridgerton’s first gay romance – between the King’s right-hand man, Reynolds (Freddie Dennis, left), and the Queen’s, Brimsley (Sam Clemmett).
Their secret love affair – played out in snatched moments while off duty – is hugely entertaining. They’re at it so often, you feel an incompetent terrorist with a defective musket could take out the royal couple and it would be a week before this pair notice.
But, again, their storyline feels a tad tokenistic.
Clearly, Rhimes has had her woke way with the script – and I’m not buying.
Nonetheless, viewing figures don’t lie, and fans are obviously lapping up Queen Charlotte in their multi-millions. But let’s not kid ourselves: they’re here for the bathtub romps and the breathless bedroom scenes – not the virtue-signalling.
Next time, stick to the sex!
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