Dearest gentle reader, another season amidst the ton is upon us. Released Wednesday, Jan. 28, Part One of Bridgerton’s season four acts as a departure from its predecessors, focusing on the “behind-the-scenes” of the show’s hallmark opulence. The Bridgerton sibling of the season is Benedict (Luke Thompson), whose serendipitous romance with a mysterious “Lady in Silver” follows a classic Cinderella story.
Following her lifelong passion to attend a ball, maid Sophie Baek (Yerin Ha) – our Cinderella – sneaks into the Dowager Lady Bridgerton’s (Ruth Gemmell) masquerade. Meanwhile, Benedict, the rakish tortured artist of the family, evades his mother’s summons to engage in society and find a wife by indulging in debauchery. When he arrives late to the masquerade, unsatisfied with his suitresses, Benedict only finds interest in Sophie, shrouded in silver. After saving her from the solicitations of a potential dance partner and discovering that Sophie cannot dance, Benedict offers to take her outside for a private dance lesson, a scandalous proposal for a well-brought-up lady of the ton. Nevertheless, Sophie accepts.
When the clock strikes midnight, Sophie must leave the ball to protect her true identity, and the Cinderella premise, alongside the fantasy of the night, begins to dissipate. Forlorn and abandoned, Benedict has only a single white glove to remember his “Lady in Silver” by.
As an artist, Benedict devotes his time in the studio to sketches of his enigmatic lady love. Initially, the remaining glove and Benedict’s obsession with Sophie’s appearance seem significant: Sophie clings to her glove, reminiscing on her night of freedom, while Benedict keeps his glove and many sketches on his desk. Yet, by episode three, Sophie leaves her glove behind in a place of former employment, undermining the show’s adherence to telling a Cinderella story, but perhaps hinting at her pragmatic detachment from her fleeting fantasy.
For Benedict’s part, he attempts to identify the “Lady in Silver” by promenading and examining the faces of the ladies of the ton for familiar features. Yet, when he meets Sophie again, he fails to recognize her resemblance to the woman behind the silver mask because she becomes unrecognizable beneath the guise of her class. Although Benedict is unable to identify Sophie, her employer, Lady Penwood, discovers Sophie’s unsanctioned attendance at the ball after finding one of her shoes scuffed. Somehow, the state of the shoe and its perfect fit for Sophie’s foot confirm her presence that night. Among others, these plot holes dilute the otherwise well-constructed storyline.
Despite its plot flaws, Bridgerton is largely built upon and supported by its aesthetic; the grandeur of Regency balls, gowns, and mansions that draw viewers in as much as the show’s Gossip Girl-style drama does. While Sophie’s costuming is largely restricted to a maid’s uniform – a peek behind the curtain of Bridgerton’s glamour – the costuming as a whole is a highlight of the season so far. Season four’s soft, delicate, and bejeweled styles curated a visual effect close to season one’s. While the first two seasons maintained exquisite simplicity in both makeup and costumes, season three was an abrasive visual shift, featuring exaggerated silhouettes, garish color schemes, and heavy makeup. The recent return to Bridgerton’s aesthetic roots was a much-needed reprieve and came across as more feasible for the time period, despite the show’s typically imaginative interpretations.
Unlike seasons of the past, this leading lady is not of the ton, provoking a new attention to the class divide of Regency England and the oblivious abundance of the show’s main cast, thus creating a more developed representation of the era. As the camera ventures downstairs, it isn’t just Sophie’s story that gets told, but Bridgerton grants greater attention to the staff as a whole. Season four features a comprehensive tour of the downstairs servants’ quarters, engaging with other staff and their dynamics. Sophie is often placed below Benedict: she cleans up tea on the floor while he sits above her, and he ascends staircases while she is left below. Even Lady Whistledown (Julie Andrews) – London society’s infamous gossip author – turns her focus to “Maid Wars” that are wreaking havoc upon the Mayfair households, to which Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuvel) disapproves, reinforcing the insular nature of high society.
A difficult dynamic unfolds as Benedict’s ignorant blindness to Sophie’s true identity is just one of many examples accentuating the power dynamic between the two. Despite her wit and capabilities, Benedict will always have more privilege, yet fails to see this. For instance, when Benedict playfully fights with his brothers, splattering shaving cream across the room, a maid must clean the mess later. This epitomizes the imbalance of his and Sophie’s relationship: where he is afforded a frivolous, cushioned life, Sophie’s station burdens her with the consequences of the actions of nobility, such as the Brigertons. The resulting dynamic leads to a vexing watch for viewers.
These circumstances motivate Sophie’s reluctance to pursue a relationship with Benedict. Throughout the development of their relationship, Sophie refuses to admit she’s met Benedict before, despite their undeniable connection at the ball. The illegitimate daughter of a lord and his maid-turned-mistress, Sophie, understands the weight of her social status and that her relationship with Benedict is futile. As Will Mondrich sagely puts it, “We must marry according to class, but we do not always love that way.”
Despite the reason behind her hesitation, Sophie’s apathy is a frustrating delay in the romance. Sohpie finds herself in multiple situations where she has the ability to tell Benedict who she is, and yet chooses not to. This circumstance recurs throughout the season, a disappointing and irritating watch as Sophie’s character continually chooses to play the victim and refuses to believe she can give Benedict a chance. The result of this is a growing resentment from the audience towards Sophie and her passivity as season four continues.
An engaging season shared between two contrasting love interests is marred by menial side plots and provoking character development that end up diminishing the overall story arc. Episodes frequently meet the disruption of Lady Danbury and the Queen quarreling over Lady Danbury’s desire to leave the Queen and travel abroad, despite the Queen’s disapproval. Understandably, this subplot intends to enhance the overall storyline; however, it ends up watering it down. To further displease the audience, Lady Danbury, a character of wit and charm, makes the poor decision of forcing her friend Lady Mondrich into her position of Lady in waiting for the Queen. In doing so, she becomes less of a favorable character, as she forces her best friend into a position she didn’t ask for, to gain freedom herself.
However, there is still hope that Part Two of season four will promise an improvement in all of the characters and a revitalization of the plot. An aesthetically pleasing and entertaining jaunt through Regency romance creates anticipation for what the rest of the season has to offer. Despite its flaws, season four of Bridgerton provides a unique storyline different from preceding seasons, earning it a four out of five feathers.
