A tale of three queens, not one.
Welcome back, dear reader. Much has changed since our last visit to The Ton yet, by and large, these changes have been most delectable indeed.
Ahead of Queen Charlotte’s unveiling, Digital Spy put quill to paper in a review that highly commended Netflix’s first Bridgerton spin-off, proclaiming that “it lives up to its promise and then some”.
A bold claim, if we do say so ourselves, but not one entirely without merit. As coronations go, this has been a highly successful one. Not only does Queen Charlotte add some intriguing new fodder for viewers and readers alike, the spinoff goes one better and actually improves things at the palace, much like Charlotte herself.
Chief among these changes is the prequel’s desire to finally dig into race and explore how the equality usually taken for granted in Bridgerton actually came about in the first place. Strides for inclusion are also made in another key area too, but with some big caveats, as is often the way in circles such as these.
Queen Charlotte’s introduction to society positions the show as a royal love story with all the usual drama and scandal you might expect. If we were to speak on such matters, we would perhaps draw one’s eye to the love shared between two queens of a different kind that first came to our attention towards the start of episode two. Thirteen minutes in, to be exact.Up until this point, Brimsley and Reynolds (#Remsley) are simply portrayed as servants who assist their queen and king, respectively, in all manner of affairs. But then, towards the start of episode two, the pair suddenly assist each other instead in a rather physical manner. You know. They put the Pope into Rome. They ride a dragon upon St George, if you will.
Anyone who’s spent but a moment in The Ton will be no stranger to amorous congress. And to paraphrase Lady Violet Bridgerton herself, the gardens are in full bloom this season, but never before has this franchise blown the grounsils with two men on screen. Not properly, anyway.
Up until this point, there has been barely a whisper of, dare we say it, homosexuality in Bridgerton. The closest we’ve come, so to speak, was back in season one when Benedict made friends with a closeted gay man who openly discussed his desire for men, and why he had to hide these desires within a straight sham marriage.
Scandalous, we’re sure you’ll agree. But what’s even more scandalous is that season two ignored this plot thread, and indeed, homosexuality as a whole, with a second run that somehow ended up being even straighter than the first. And that was already quite a low bar indeed.
Throw in that queer-baiting trailer from the first season and it wouldn’t be improper to suggest that Bridgerton’s relationship with queerness has been rather concerning, particularly when you bear in mind how integral horizontal refreshment is to the show’s appeal. Ignoring queer love up until now has stung this viewer even more than the bee that took Lord Edmund from us far too soon.
On the face of it then, Brimsley and Reynolds’s cheeky rendezvous is long overdue and very much welcomed.
