QUEEN CHARLOTTE: A BRIDGERTON STORY Divesity Review
🐘🐘🐘/5
**contains spoilers**
There hasn’t been a season of BRIDGERTON I haven’t binged, and QUEEN CHARLOTTE is no exception. On the surface this is exactly my type of show — strong female lead, creators of color, a dash of romance, a pinch of 1700s fashion.
Now, I had an inckling that this prequel would be a bit darker than BRIDGERTON’s first two seasons given King George and Queen Charlotte’s present day relationship and George’s mental health. That being said, I don’t think I was prepared for how dark it would be.
In some ways, this darkness opened up the opportunity to shine light and bring nuance to some stark realties. The ton was still segregated prior to Charlotte’s ascent to the throne and there were disparities in access, money, and power.
On the other hand, in a content landscape which often seems to recognize only one type of black woman (the strong, aggressive, Girl Boss with thick skin) whose story is often marred with burdens and sacrifice, I wanted to see joy.
I wanted a bit more of the butterflies, the falling in love, the pining, the sly glances, the soft caresses, and the sweet murmurings that comprise the early days of love. I wanted to see the soft blooming of a passion and partnership that would eventually hold together a kingdom.
And to be frank, I don’t think that’s too much to ask for — we’re talking about BRIDGERTON for God sakes! That’s the point and appeal of the entire show.
But instead, by the end of the six episodes, I found myself not only sad for Charlotte, but also disappointed by the love story. I wanted something soft and wonderful for her, even though soft isn’t a word you’d use to describe Charlotte. I wanted something joyous for her young self, especially because she doesn’t have it now. And I had to ask myself: does what I want for this story fit the story’s characters or are my values and opinions on love getting in the way of what’s true for these characters?
Even after rewatching the show and writing this essay, I can’t say I’ve come to a concrete conclusion. The best I can say is that its likely a bit of both. I wanted softness both because who doesn’t want the characters we love to be happy. At the same time I can recognize that Charlotte is more elbow strikes than soft caresses. But that doesn’t mean she has to have a love and life filled with loneliness and strife. She could have still had a brilliant love her way. A middle ground did exist.
That’s likely where my disappointment comes from: the missed opportunity.
That being said, the show was fantastic in many ways. Its still some of the best depictions of romance on TV, particularly for POC folks, and that deserves its own credit.
From a diversity perspective, there were some clear wins, and a few clear misses. Let’s dig into it.
Starting with gender representation:
From an archetypal perspective, a woman’s journey follows the path of the divine feminine: the maiden, the mother, and the crone. In the majority of media, we get the maiden — the young, beautiful ingenuine that’s there to inspire her lover (see: Claire in the THE BEAR). If not her, we get the mother — the eternal support for her partner, the caretaker of her children (see: Molly Weasley). Even more rarely, we get the crone — a wise woman with a witty one liner (cue: “Tell Cercei, I want her to know it was me.”)
As time as gone on and advocates and activists have raised their voices, portrayals of women have changed and broadened. Its now more common to see the maiden being more than just the love interest or the crone being more than just a wise woman, but by and large, these three buckets still encompass the majority of female depictions.
One of my favorite aspects of QUEEN CHARLOTTE is that the structure allows for an exploration into the lifetime of a woman and the unfolding of one archetype into the next. You have no choice but to show her in her fullness.
Charlotte starts off as the maiden. She is not simply beautiful, but also strong, inquisitive, and intelligent. She plays chess and helps George navigate his role as king, while also making sense of what’s happening in his mind. Flash forward and she becomes the crone. Her and Lady Agatha Danbury evolve into strong pillars of the ton, grab life by the horns, control their own fate, and move through the world in ways that are true to who they are. They step in for guidance on their terms, and while they are not always kind or nurturing, they’re always real.
This allows us to see women who embody both traditionally masculine and feminine traits, and those traits allow them to move with agency in a patriarchal world. Both Charlotte and Agatha use their power and intellect to create change and they both find ways to achieve not only their husbands’ goals, but also their own. Whether Charlotte is holding a kingdom together or Agatha is negotiating with Princess Augusta to gain an estate, both women aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.
Another aspect I loved, which is rarer than it should be in female depictions, is the willingness for these characters to sit in the uncomfortable spaces — not only for themselves, but also in their relationships with other women. Because they accept themselves, they’re able to give grace to others and understand their friends even if they don’t always find themselves on the same side.
Agatha and Violet’s relationship is a perfect example. These two women have a friendship that flourishes in its ability to reconcile truths that are uncomfortable. Instead of dividing them, those truths, both present day and in regards to Violet’s father, provide the women with a better understanding of the other. They allow the other to sit in their truth without judgement and with silent understanding. They are allies, and also friends.
Before we go further, I have to talk about Agatha’s sexual awakening. Now did I want to see Agatha do the horizontal tango with Violet’s father? Hard pass.
Hard. Pass.
But I’m thrilled with Shonda Rhimes’ choice to have her explicity reject Charlotte’s brother, and thereby reject the traditional role women are relegated to in this society, and instead choose Violet’s father, who was attracted her to intellect. Even more that than, I loved her choice to ultimately reject Violet’s father as well and instead choose herself.
This vein flows into the tryst itself when Agatha takes control and switches to being on top. In doing so, she’s symbolically taking charge of her own pleasure, and ultimately, her own fate.
That being said, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how disheartening it was that the man the writers chose for this pivotal scene is a cheater. It almost felt like we were supposed to dismiss that part of his character because he’s not racist and his wife is. I don’t buy that. You can not be racist and still lack integrity.
But enough about the men.
All in all, what makes the female representation in this show so great can fully be found in two characters and one friendship. Charlotte and Agatha have differing motives. Charlotte is looking for a friend. Agatha, though kind, is looking for advancement and change. Neither is fully good or fully bad. Charlotte is a good wife, a fair Queen, and a not so great mother. Agatha is generally kind, often impatient, always quick witted, and sometimes lost.
But whatever they are in that moment, these women sit fully in their humanity by being shades of grey. They’re not perfect or one note. Their lives don’t revolve around men. They talk about things outside of men. They take over the screen with a complexity and authenticity that makes them relatable and impactful.
And for these reasons QUEEN CHARLOTTE does an outstanding job at gender representation.
Now, let’s move onto racial representation (with a bit of gender representation mixed in because women of color live at intersections).
Once again BRIDGERTON’s casting department hits it out of the park. Fun fact, Charlotte is believed by some historians to be a woman of color. Not only did they stick to that but they also slapped Eurocentric beauty standards in the face. Colorism? Where? They understood the assignment and delivered. Not complaints, only applause.
The writing however, now that has some room for improvement.
Let’s be clear — marginalized communities should not always be depicted as angels and good people because just like every human, we’re all flawed. But, the problem in representation arises when there’s no diversity in depictions — regardless of whether they’re all positive or negative.
In the former, real life people are held to ridiculous standards they can never meet, and then are harmed and looked down upon for not meeting those standards. In the latter, real life people are colored by these negative impressions, which then color first impressions, impact job and networking opportunities, cause an escalation in interactions with the police, and the list of harm goes on. Uniform representation creates a box no person can fit in and can only fail in. Creatively uniform representation is lazy writing creating boring characters.
In the Bridgerton TV universe overall, the depiction of older black men, especially in their roles as husbands and fathers, is overwhelmingly negative. Both Harmon in QUEEN CHARLOTTE and the Duke’s father in season 1 are horrible, horrible people. They lack kindness and consideration. The Duke’s father is abusive. Harmon is clearly depicted as narcissistic and unintelligent. Let’s also not forget his sexual relationship with Agatha, which was not at all okay. Also, what was the makeup department thinking when they created Harmon?!
What adds salt to this wound is that the only woman in the series whose depicted as a good mother is Violet. Agatha barely sees her children. In season one she jokes that she’s happy they’ve fled the city so she doesn’t have to see them, and in season two she has one scene where she talks to her son and its about how he navigates the world. Its clear they have no bond. She is not his place of comfort. Now its not that she doesn’t know how — she takes Kate under her wing in season two, and she steps in as the Duke’s mother in many ways during season one. So why show her as such a poor mother to her own children?
Charlotte seems to be even worse. She doesn’t seem to particularly like any of her children and she acts as their Queen, not their mother. There is one moment where her son tells her he’s scared and you see her kind heart, but overall, its clear that she not only doesn’t have a close bond with her children, but that she’s not interested in forming one. She needs an heir for the Crown. The end.
On the other hand, Violet, despite having putting too much emotional labor onto Anthony’s shoulders and not always knowing what to say to Daphne, is a good, hands-on mother. She is warm and a source of both comfort and guidance for her children. She steps in to protect them and gives them space when she feels they need it. She’s not perfect (which is a good thing because it shows her humanity) but no one can say she’s not a great mother.
She also gets to be one of the few people in Bridgerton that has a storied love, even if it ended too soon.
So why can none of the black women in the show have that? Why can none of them be good mothers?
Violet is strong. She has a backbone and stands up for her family. Yet she’s simultaneously given traits of softness and vulnerability. She’s given moments of joy that are the norm in her life.
So, again, why can none of the black women in this show have that?
Why can’t they have joyous love stories and partners who are supportive and kind?
This might be an unpopular opinion, but I’ll say it. The chemistry between George and Charlotte was lacking, and so was their love story. I couldn’t figure out why they liked each other. Daphne and the Duke had their witty banter and a mutual respect. Kate and Anthony had a love/hate can’t stand you but you give me the hots sort of passionate affair where they may not have gotten along, but they saw each other as equals duking it out.
George and Charlotte have what? He thinks she’s pretty?
She fights for him because what? Yes she’s Queen and he’s King and there’s a duty aspect to it, but I would have liked to see more instances where they seemed like a good fit, or when they liked each other for who they were as people.
The whiplash that George gives her with his hot and cold was also a mess that wasn’t truly addressed. Yes he was trying to protect her, but she also deserved some sort of apology and real accountability for his actions. Instead, she just shifted to trying to help and save him. But where was he for her? What support does she get?
Relationships should work both ways.
Truly the only aspect of their love story I really like was less about the story and more about the structure. The choice to have Episode 4 be fully in George’s perspective was jarring in a positive way and incredibly poignant.
It not only gives us insight into George as a person and character, but it shows the sacrifices he’s made for love. I mean if he had just communicated he could have probably saved himself months of torture, but every relationships has communication hurdles so I’ll let that go.
The perspective shift in Episode 4 also shows the audience how off-base we were. I loved how that flipped George’s character on its head, and allowed us to look back at the last three episodes through a completely different lens. I suddenly had flashbacks to THE CONVERSATION.
More than that, this humanization of George and insight into his personality was required since it pushed us into the real emotional meat of story. But, aside from that, they really only have hate sex, which is fine if it was like Kate and Anthony having hate sex that’s filled with angst and passion and frustration. Instead this hate sex just felt like a letdown because the emotional undercurrent necessary for it to feel delicious wasn’t there.
Add all that up and you’re left with a story of Charlotte propping up George, of her helping him become accessible to his people, and running the kingdom in his stead. A love that’s a friendship, but you never get into the nitty gritty of what makes it tick besides pure force of will.
And while that could be the point. Isn’t that so disappointing? For a show that brought us “I burn for you” and “You are the bane of my existence and object of all my desires”, what does Charlotte get?
Nothing. Instead she gives. She stands with him “between the heaven and the Earth”. She tells him where he is. She does the work. She holds the relationship together.
And ultimately she’s cheated out of the love that every other heroine in this show got, and its a damn shame.
Truthfully, sometimes I feel like even Brimsley had a better love story than Charlotte. Which makes me madder because clearly the writers knew how to write it, but instead chose to make Charlotte suffer.
Think about it — Brimsley wasn’t really likeable but his redeeming quality was his love for the Queen. Older Charlotte can be mean and petty, but her redeeming quality is her moments of kindness, those peeks behind her walls.
They both had a love filled with obstacles. They both had miscommunication and pain. Both love stories center on the idea of love in the midst of duty. But Brimsley at least got moments of connection when he was with Reynolds. He got sly glances and partnership. Their story, though a B plot, was so touching that audiences were left wanting more.
Let it be stated for the record: we were robbed of old Reynolds. That deleted scene needs to be added back. Why Jesse Marion? Why?!?!?
But, despite the ending or lack there of, Brimsley and Reynold’s story was lovely and pure. It is also a perfect example why, though I believe QUEEN CHARLOTTE does well in queer represenration, it loses two stars for race representation.
For similar reasons, I also feel QUEEN CHARLOTTE misses the mark in ability represenation.
In an interview with Entertainment Weekly, Rhimes states that QUEEN CHARLOTTE is “not a docuseries.” She states that she’s “diverging from the historical record with purpose,” but keeping King George III’s illness.
She gets an automatic one star for including this storyline, and exploring it in the first place. But there were many ways the story could have gone that didn’t require so much pain.
In terms of the illness itself, historians have numerous hypotheses on what afflicted George, both mental and physical, but no sure diagnosis. Given that, Rhimes decided to “portray what was going on with him in the same way doctors of his era saw it.” She wanted it to be honest, empowered, and respectful.
I think she does that. His illness is not portrayed in a way that is demeaning or dehumanizing. George has interests, passions, and self sacrificing tendancies. He’s more than just his diagonisis. He is a fully fleshed out character.
So then why do I feel lthe portrayal is lacking? For a similar reason to why I believe the racial representation is lacking: POC and neuro/physio-divergent stories don’t always have to be stories riddled with pain. Given that this was not a straight docuseries, George’s symptoms could have started after he and Charlotte had their honeymoon period. If their story had to center on her standing beside him in spite of the illness, they could have shown more intimate moments of them facing his symptoms together, instead of thinking it would just go away. As it stands, when they’re young George runs away from her to deal with it on their own, and when they’re older Charlotte essentially relegates him to a different castle. Where are the moments of partnership and friendship that were promised? We get one scene under the bed, but that’s really it.
I’m in no way belittling Charlotte’s work in propping up the kingdom, but I also feel I need to highlight the missed opportunities in truly showing their intimate partnership/love/friendship, just the two of them.
In fact, the more we honor Charlotte’s work in holding the kingdom together, the worse of a partner George looks to be. There could have been moments where George was Charlotte’s support as she faces the racism prevalant in the ton, or stands by her side as she goes up against Princess Augusta. He is lucid for a good part of the show, so there were ample opportunities for him provide Charlotte comfort as well, not just in her birthing their child, but her as a full fledged person.
Why don’t they play chess together? Why don’t they brainstorm how to handle a political problem together? Hell, why don’t they even gossip together?
On the flip side, I realize George’s torture was in a way a testament to his love to Charlotte, but why? Why does he have to bleed and be tortured? The Duke also feels unworthy in many ways, yet he doesn’t go off asking for shock therapy to make himself worthy of Daphne. It felt like trauama porn at worst, and gratitious at best.
Its for these reasons I feel both the racial and ability representation was lacking: because QUEEN CHARLOTTE is at its core a love story, and the elements that make it a love story were scarred and beaten down. I don’t know where we got this idea that diversity must equal pain. That in order to portray diverse characters, they must bleed in some way.
There was an opportunity to show love that flourishes between two people who happen to be POC and neuro/physio-divergent. Instead we get a love that survives despite the diversity elements. Black women do not need to be strong and saviors, neuro/physio-divergent people can have love without pain.
This was the perfect opportunity to show that, and it was missed.
Representation ratings are as follows:
Overall: 🐘🐘🐘/5
Racial: 🐘🐘🐘/5
Gender: 🐘🐘🐘🐘/5
Queer: 🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘/5
Ability: 🐘🐘🐘/5
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A little bonus: Deadline published the script for Episode 6, which can be read here!
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