After almost two years, The Gilded Age has returned. Last season was filled with historical drama surrounding opera wars and the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge. This season, we’re getting to learn all about… temperance and the westward expansion of the railroads? This show has officially out-PBS’d PBS.
The season begins with a business trip to Arizona, which is not yet a state but is a crucial spot between Chicago and Los Angeles. It’s 1885 and George Russell (Morgan Spector) and his right hand man Clay (basso profundo extraordinaire Patrick Page) are in Arizona to procure the land they need to own to build more track — George wants to be the first to offer coast-to-coast travel, for which he’ll charge a premium and get even richer. The problem is that the land they want to buy is not only strategically located, it’s also copper-rich and the miners who own them know they have leverage when it comes to selling.
It may be hot and dusty in Arizona, but back in New York, an early spring snowstorm has struck, so all the downstairs-types who work at the Russell and van Rhijn homes take to the streets for a snowball fight before eventually heading back in to work. Actually, the van Rhijn home is no longer the van Rhijn home but the Forte home, because Ada Forte (Cynthia Nixon) is now the mistress of the house on account of all that money her dead husband Robert Sean Leonard left her at the end of last season.
Now that Ada’s the woman of the house, she’s calling the shots – a bitter pill for her sister Agnes (Christine Baranski) to swallow. And Agnes knows a thing or two about bitter pills, being one herself. Ada has called a meeting of temperance activists together, because nothing solves a nation’s problems like prohibition.
“I’ve been convinced that temperance can bring unique improvements to our society,” Ada tells Agnes when she explains her commitment to the cause. “Alcohol is the scourge of many families.” It’s not lost on me that Cynthia Nixon’s other HBO character, Miranda Hobbs, loves a phony Negroni. It’s all coming full circle.
Agnes is dismissive of Ada’s new cause, dismissive of Ada taking up any cause, really, but Ada explains that she finds a purpose in service, just like her husband, the Reverend Luke Forte, did when he was alive. And after months of mourning his death and feeling like she had no purpose, even wishing she was dead, she’s finally feeling alive again. I love that the only way to shut Agnes up is by invoking the most dramatic things possible, in this case, Ada’s wish to end her own life. “I wanted to die… until I discovered teetotaling.” I’m paraphrasing.
Over at the Russell’s, Bertha (Carrie Coon) is keeping a close watch on her youngest child, Gladys (Taissa Farmiga), the one whose happiness she wants to trade away for social clout. Surely you haven’t forgotten that Bertha intends to marry off Gladys to the Duke of Buckingham (first name: Hector), he who inspired more than one adult woman to stomp up to her room after throwing a temper tantrum last season. But Gladys is in love with Billy Carlton – a nobody – and even though George Russell wants his daughter to live a happy life, Bertha Russell wishes her daughter no such luxury. Billy wishes to get George’s blessing to propose to Gladys, but all of this needs to be kept from Bertha, whose only plan in life is to dethrone Lina Astor by getting her daughter to marry an actual royal.
Larry Russell (Harry Richardson), world’s most boring bachelor, has found a most suitable mate in Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson), world’s most boring bachelorette. (If ever there was a time for the wilting rose emoji…) The two across-the-street neighbors finally kissed last season after months of flirtation, but Marian has already been engaged twice, first to that cad Tom Raikes and then to her cousin Dashiell who, for obvious familial reasons, wasn’t a good fit. Marian worries about optics when Larry asks her to go out in public with him because after two broken engagements she knows she belongs in the discount aisle at the grocery store: she’s damaged goods.
Last season marked the appearances of actual real people like Oscar Wilde, Booker T. Washington, and Emily Roebling, and this season we get our first hit of “person who actually existed and is now a part of the Gild-iverse” with John Singer Sargent, famed painter of landscapes, seascapes and now, Gladys Russell.
Sargent was already an established portrait painter by this time, but he’s careful to give Bertha the heads up that his most recent work, the Portrait of Madame X, caused a real scandal in Paris because of the way he allowed the woman’s dress strap to fall onto her shoulder. Too sensual, even for the French, the painting drove Sargent out of France which is why he now finds himself at the Russells. (Bertha is savvy enough to know that scandal is a good thing and tells Sargent, “It’ll only drive up your price.” This woman knows an investment opportunity when she sees one.)
As Ada and Agnes prepare for the gathering of temperance activists, their battle for control of the house flares. Ada is the one with the money now, but the house itself is technically Agnes’s, and Agnes keeps giving the housekeepers and butlers direction that is in conflict with Ada’s instruction. Bannister isn’t even able to address the issue with them because their bickering is so constant. This scene is yet another command performance from Christine Baranski, who delivers sneering anti-temperance lines like, “If there are so many people keen on spoiling the country’s fun, you’ll need a bigger tent,” and “Let the sober circus begin,” with so much petty scorn. I love it. The meeting’s big speech is delivered by a woman who declares that anyone who drinks is destined for eternal damnation. It’s rare for Marian to side with Aunt Agnes on much of anything, but on this topic they can agree, Ada has maybe gone overboard. (In fact, while the actual temperance movement might sound conservative, the women who spearheaded it were progressive for the time, actively fighting for women’s suffrage, racial equality, and and worker’s rights. I love when Julian Fellowes makes me do homework.)
The biggest shock of the episode (let’s be real, when I say shock, I’m using a very gentle tone) is when Charles Fane (Ward Horton) tells his wife Aurora (Kelli O’Hara) he wants a divorce. (“A divorce? From me?” I imagine that if my husband ever confronts me with divorce that would be my reaction, too. Good luck living without all of this, bub.) Aurora realizes that if she and Charles divorce, not only will she lose the life she’s accustomed to, but she’ll lose her friends and social standing. (She could become friends with Mrs. Chamberlain and Mrs. Blane, the previous two seasons’ shunned single ladies? I know that thought wouldn’t comfort ole Aurora). This news has hit her hard out of the blue. It may be what Charles wants – he’s already lined up his next marriage! – but it is not what she wants so she refuses.
Aurora contemplates making her primary residence in Newport so that if she does file for divorce – only she can file a claim against him, because he is the adulterer – at least the press can’t cover it. She confides this sordid tale to Ada, Agnes, and Marian, and progressive Marian still doesn’t get why a woman should be ruined for this. “Society is not known for its logic, especially where women are concerned,” Aurora sighs. You love to see the writers dress up some relevant 2025 sentiments in some 1885 vernacular.
Oscar van Rhijn (Blake Ritson), deep in a depression since losing his family’s fortune, scarcely comes out of his room these days, but once Aunt Ada makes it clear to him that she’ll allow him to live under her roof – though she won’t bankroll his dandy lifestyle – he’s forced to reconsider what he wants to do with his life. Ironically, Agnes is mad that her son Oscar has no job, and mad that her niece Marian does have one, teaching at the, I’m sorry, what is it now? The Female Normal and High School. “Why can’t you keep teaching watercolors to nicely brought up young ladies? That was bad enough,” Agnes asks. (Agnes surprises everyone at the table by showing her support for women’s suffrage, but her feminism has its limits.)
As much as Gladys tries to keep her relationship with Billy from her mother, people talk. Specifically, Billy’s mother Mrs. Carlton. At a meeting for members of the Metropolitan Opera, Mrs. Carlton suggests to Bertha that soon they’ll have reason to celebrate, as their two kids seem smitten, and Bertha is furious that not only does she not know what Mrs. Carlton is on about, but that Gladys would be pursuing anyone but her Duke. When Larry defends his sister to Bertha, he explains that maybe Gladys doesn’t want riches and power, maybe she just wants to be happy. “Happiness as a byproduct of a well-ordered life may last. As a goal, it is invariably doomed to failure,” Bertha tells him. Bertha Russell, definitely not an owner of a “Life is Good” bumper sticker.
When Bertha and Gladys finally have it out, Bertha accuses her daughter of being a silly girl, and one with no judgment. Gladys retorts that Bertha has no values. And then Gladys packs up her things and runs away from home.
Liz Kocan is a pop culture writer living in Massachusetts. Her biggest claim to fame is the time she won on the game show Chain Reaction.