Is ‘The Gilded Age’ Good Now, Actually?

Hello, fellow opera-lovers, temperance activists, and railway barons! We return to HBO’s The Gilded Age to find it has transformed. The first two seasons cemented the series as a god-tier, Smash-level so-bad-it’s-good mess with its inability to see plotlines through, its allergy to dialogue that doesn’t clunk upon delivery, and its wobbly attempts at shining a narrative light on social justice. The show was so consistently messy that viewers could tell time by it. Who could have predicted that for its third season premiere, The Gilded Age would not only reach for competence but actually grasp it?

The third season’s first episode (“Who Is In Charge Here?”) made the impressively sensible choice to focus on a tidy handful of interlocking plotlines with space for characters to develop actual motivations. Bertha Russell (Carrie Coon), is moving full speed ahead on her plans to marry her daughter Gladys (Taissa Farmiga) off to the Duke of Buckingham. As Bertha waxes rhapsodic about the power and influence Gladys would have as a Duchess, her daughter is sneaking off to see her secret beau, Billy. Prodigal son Larry (Harry Richardson) is aiding Gladys in her tryst while working on the invention of the alarm clock with the Van Rhijn footman Jack (Ben Ahlers). This dovetails two plots together with surprising elegance: the mixed reaction from fellow servants at seeing one of their own going above their station and the strongly hinted possibility that Larry might claim credit for the clock himself. It’s what his foxy, evil father, George (Morgan Spector), would probably do!

In other secret-lovers news, Larry and Marian (Louisa Jacobson) are biding their time until they can make their coupling official. Marian is worried about making a third mistake dating the wrong guy, and for once, her plotline isn’t a total dud. Her best friend and actual star of the show, Peggy Scott (Denée Benton), gets word that a newspaper will publish excerpts of her unfinished novel and struggles to keep writing when a mysterious sickness strikes and forces her to spend half the episode in bed. You better not kill her off, Gilded Age! Sudden cancer taking Robert Sean Leonard away was enough.

Anyway, when Agnes Van Rhijn (Christine Baranski) calls for a doctor, she’s furious to see the doctor refuse because Peggy is Black. Everyone is incredulous, except Armstrong (Debra Monk), who is no longer alone in her racism. The inevitable power clash between Agnes and Ada (Cynthia Nixon), now that the latter has inherited Robert Sean Leonard’s secret riches, was a little repetitive, but nonetheless fun to watch. The downstairs folk can’t track who gives them their orders. Poor, sad Oscar (Blake Ritson) is depressed in his room in the wake of losing his mother’s fortune to that scammer Maude Beaton, and so he orders a constant flow of booze while he rots. He’s not meant for work, just meant to be rich. Relatable! Maybe he could win an Adrien Brody look-alike contest for some extra cash?

The noticeably improved plotting isn’t exactly setting the world on fire, but The Gilded Age is nonetheless operating at a higher level of quality and competence than it has ever before. There are signs of the old, goofy series throughout the episode, though. George Russell takes a trip out to a frontier set leftover from Westworld to pressure a handful of hardscrabble mine-owners into selling their land so that he can build a railroad through it. The owners just want to be paid well for the sale, but of course, George would sooner die. Morgan Spector does his smoldering best, but the story and George as a character remain pretty shallow.

Elsewhere, Ada is hosting a meeting of the Temperance Society, which The Gilded Age thinks is simply hilarious. As with past stabs at historical commentary, this falls pretty flat. There’s also an interesting plotline with Aurora Fane (Kelli O’Hara) being pressured by her robotic husband for a divorce. He strolls in and matter-of-factly informs his wife that he’s met someone, blinking in confusion when Aurora gets upset. It plays like vintage Gilded Age with its rushed, unearned, and stilted emotional reality. Mr. Fane is barely a character, let alone one we care about, and the actor’s alien mannerisms make the scene feel surreal. It seems like the intention is to outline another facet of society where women were marginalized, and that’s great, but it plays gracelessly.

The season is young, so there’s plenty of time for excellence or disappointment, but this is easily the most promising start The Gilded Age has ever had. The camera moves with more style, the editing is tighter and less elliptical, and the direction feels much stronger. The dialogue is still heavy-handed and blunt, but the characters have greater depth than before. More impressive still, the series doesn’t sacrifice its sillier aspects in its upgrade. Past hate-watches, like Smash, sacrificed their fun for improvements, but The Gilded Age doesn’t lose its goofy charms. There are reports that The Gilded Age comes into its own this season and might actually be good, but for now, it’s worth celebrating the series becoming competent.