This article contains spoilers about The Gilded Age Season 4 Episode 1.
In today’s media climate, it’s rare for a TV show to build its audience across multiple seasons. If a debut season of eight to ten episodes fails to draw viewers in, networks and streamers cancel the show, leaving it long forgotten despite any potential it showed. The Gilded Age is one of the few to break that curse, steadily building its audience across three seasons as the best of Broadway wage war on either side of the divide between Old and New Money. Now entering its fourth season, the stakes have never been higher – or more entertaining. Not that you’ll be able to see them, given how poorly lit the series remains; even the brightest screens will struggle to showcase the era’s gauche extravagance.
The series continues to place Agnes (Christine Baranski) and Ada (Cynthia Nixon) at its heart, with sparring wit and sisterly dissatisfaction driving much of their conversation. Season 4 wastes little time returning to their lived-in dynamic, as Agnes prepares to entertain United States President Cleveland in her capacity as Vice President of the Heritage Society (the society’s president is conveniently bedridden, so the honour falls to her in a classic Julian Fellowes move). With Ada now the head of the household, the considerable cost of the dinner falls on her shoulders, much to Agnes’s frustration. After all, the family’s entire reputation depends on its success, and now is no time to pinch pennies. “Especially when they’re not your pennies to pinch,” Ada responds, reminding viewers why their relationship is such a delight to watch.
Much of the premiere centres on legacy, particularly Agnes’s determination to preserve the Livingston family name in American history. It gives Baranski plenty of room to deliver articulate one-liners for viewers to gawk at; though beneath her sharp tongue lies a woman desperate to reclaim her place in society after Oscar’s (Blake Ritson) financial ruin. Oscar, meanwhile, looks to secure a legacy of his own through his marriage to Enid (Kelley Curran). Agnes may be eager for grandchildren, but their lavender marriage looks set to produce only a salon, as the French or Italians would, full of artists and musicians. Ritson and Curran are delightfully camp, making them an easy couple to root for as they plot to cement their place in society.
The Gilded Age, however, has few relationships worth caring about. George (Morgan Spector) and Bertha (Carrie Coon) remain the show’s best, with their failmarriage providing one of Season 4’s most compelling storylines. By comparison, Marian (Louisa Jacobson) and Larry (Harry Richardson) remain one of the show’s more monotonous pairings, even if the premiere finally gives them something worth talking about. Their unexpected overnight stay at a hotel after a night of dancing at Webster Hall threatens Marian’s reputation after they sleep together. Her panic the following morning gives Jacobson some of her strongest material, although their will-they-won’t-they romance still lacks the spark it desperately needs.
By now, fans of The Gilded Age have likely acquired enough Broadway knowledge to recognise a star-studded cast when they see one. The premiere reunites Peggy (Denée Benton), Dorothy (Audra McDonald), and Elizabeth (Phylicia Rashad), with the latter taking charge of wedding preparations despite Peggy and Dorothy’s apparent disinterest. Benton, McDonald, and Rashad are sublime, though Peggy’s ambitions beyond marriage remain far more interesting. Having completed her book, Friends in These Times, much to the delight of Agnes, Ada, and Marian, Peggy provides a welcome contrast to the social ambitions of those around her. Her earlier reporting on the violence facing Black citizens in the South, alongside President Cleveland’s failure to take a stand for the Globe, packs the premiere with welcome political introspection, inspiring Ada to reconsider the presidential dinner, much to Agnes’s horror.
This all leads to another wonderfully sharp disagreement between the sisters. There is a delightful irony to Agnes’s obsession with propriety, given that her closeted son is unlikely to produce any grandchildren with his former lady’s maid bride, while her niece is ‘ruined.’ Though it all but guarantees Baranski and Curran enunciating alongside each other as they play in cahoots, each eager to come out on top against Bertha. Ada’s growing political awareness also marks a welcome step up from Season 3’s fascination with the temperance movement, and Nixon’s performance is all the better for it.
Elsewhere, Fellowes is no stranger to devastating births. Many will recall Lady Sybil (Jessica Brown Findlay)’s death in Downton Abbey, and it’s no surprise that Gladys (Taissa Farmiga) faces a similarly harrowing ordeal. Complications during the birth of her breech baby force the doctor to confront the prospect of saving either mother or child. Bertha insists that her daughter must survive, even as everyone but Hector (Ben Lamb) prioritises the arrival of a male heir. Coon reaffirms that no performer on television is quite like her, with a presence few can match.
George remains in New York, where his precarious business dealings threaten to consume him. With Rockefeller’s Standard Oil essential to his railroad’s survival, George finds himself in an impossible position, unable to survive with or without the company’s business at the current rates. The ongoing investigation into his would-be assassin only adds to the pressure, while his strained relationship with Larry suggests he risks pushing away those closest to him. News of Gladys giving birth to a son offers a sweet moment of relief, but his preoccupation with business leaves him even more isolated from his family. It may be obvious where George is headed, but Spector excels as the lonely man hellbent on forgetting who and what makes him.
Downstairs, the van Rhijn/Forte/Brook staff continue to deliver some of The Gilded Age’s most endearing moments, especially as Jack (Ben Ahlers) navigates the unfamiliar world of business after the success of his clock invention. His latest venture, an electric mixing machine, brings new opportunities, though his discomfort among businessmen who assume he shares Larry’s privileged background makes his eager return home to 61st Street and 5th Avenue all the more touching.
For all its uneven romances and all-too familiar twists, The Gilded Age remains a delight. Fellowes and Sonja Warfield know exactly how to explore tensions between reputation and family, while its ensemble continues to elevate even the less compelling material. The premiere may not offer anything new, but with Baranski and Nixon exchanging barbs and the Russells threatening to implode, it’s difficult not to enjoy the spectacle.
