Bridgerton less steamy and more relatable
Bridgerton
Season 2, Netflix
The bodice-ripper got a feminist makeover with the first season of Bridgerton, the merrily ahistorical courtship soap set among London's pretty and pedigreed. Adapted from Julia Quinn's novel series, the Regency-era romance imagined for its female protagonist, Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), a new kind of happy ending — not her wedding to the Duke of Hastings (series breakout Regé-jean Page), but her negotiations with him for a sexually and emotionally fulfilling ever after.
The post-racial period drama from producer Shonda Rhimes returns sans the debut season's male lead (Page), its most compelling updates to its genre, or the steaminess that made it a pop-cultural phenomenon during the touch-starved pandemic. Season 2 offers in their stead a more conventional (and, sadly, far less horny) followup. It centres on Daphne's imperious older brother Anthony (Jonathan Bailey) and his pursuit of the perfect-on-paper Edwina Sharma (Charithra Chandran), despite his irrepressible attraction to her marriage-phobic older sister Kate (Simone Ashley).
One of the most promising character dynamics of season 1 was the mother-son tension between Anthony and his sometime confidante Violet (Ruth Gemmell), who was forced to relinquish her prerogatives as the family matriarch when her husband's sudden death left her priggish eldest the legal head of the household. The development of that relationship is one of the highlights of the new season, with the characters' inability to bond over their shared grief over the previous Viscount Bridgerton intriguingly expanding the family's backstory.
In contrast, the push-pull between Anthony and Kate feels overly familiar, even for a historical romance.
Like the Duke of Hastings, Anthony eventually gets the Mr. Darcy treatment; his outward callousness is revealed to belie an inner softness and a misplaced ethical rectitude. But sparks don't exactly fly between Bailey and Ashley; the latter, especially, is a depthless addition to the cast.
The esthetics, too, strike just the right balance between girlie and grand, even if the twinkling fairy lights have been jettisoned. We're still treated to string quartet renditions of Miley Cyrus and Alanis Morissette, never-ending parades of sequins, jewels and lace, and hairdos so decadent they make Marge Simpson's mutant beehive look sensible.
Each of Quinn's books follows a Bridgerton heir's path to romance, and with the TV series renewed for two additional seasons, chances are good they'll centre on bookish, sarcastic Eloise (Claudia Jessie) and restless, adventure-ready Colin (Luke Newton).
Despite a slow start, there's a great deal more narrative polish and visual splendour to this season. And yet all the crowded balls, deer hunts and horse races in the world can't distract from the second iteration's greatest disappointment: its utter expectedness.