“Downton” is mostly free of political correctness. It rejects Hollywood clichés (for example, that all affluent people are evil) in favor of a richly human story that is by turns amusing and heartbreaking. Mr. Fellowes finds the good in his characters, rich or poor, and shows sympathy for those who have done wrong and repented.
Americans adored “Downton Abbey.” Now, Mr. Fellowes has returned the favor. His new show, “The Gilded Age,” takes place in New York in the 1880s, when the city’s old-money families tried to keep wealthy newcomers out of the upper class.
The theme is made concrete—literally—by two Fifth Avenue mansions facing each other across a still-unpaved 61st Street. One belongs to Agnes Van Rhijn (Christine Baranski), a widow who lives with her spinster sister, Ada (Cynthia Nixon). The Van Rhijns were blue bloods before the American Revolution, and their name traces back to the 17th century, when the town was still New Amsterdam.
The brand new, bigger, and even more magnificent house across the street is erected by George Russell (Morgan Spector), a railroad tycoon. He moves to New York for business, but his wife, Bertha (Carrie Coon), has her eyes on something money can’t buy: entrance into high society.
The trouble is, the Russells’ fortune was earned, not inherited, and their background is provincial and middle class. Agnes has nothing but disdain for them. “We only receive the old people in this house,” she decrees. “Not the new. Never the new.”
When Agnes’s niece Marian (Louisa Jacobson) befriends the Russells, she sets the families on a collision course. “Downtown” fans will notice similarities with the earlier show—a good-hearted cook, an unhappy heiress, a scheming lady’s maid—but this time, Mr. Fellowes gives familiar situations different and often surprising outcomes.
Real historical figures mix with the fictional characters in “The Gilded Age.” Booker T. Washington, Clara Barton (founder of the American Red Cross), and even Oscar Wilde and Thomas Edison make appearances.
Another real personage is Mrs. Astor (Donna Murphy), the upper crust’s reigning queen and gatekeeper. No one rises socially without her approval. You don’t approach a queen directly, so Bertha charms a trusted friend of the Astors (Nathan Lane) who makes the introduction.
Building a veritable Versailles on Fifth Avenue and invading Mrs. Astor’s circle is only the beginning of Bertha’s campaign to elevate her family to gentility. She pursues her goal with careful planning and overwhelming force, like the Allies storming the beach at Normandy.
An obstacle in Bertha’s way is New York’s only opera house, the Academy of Music. It’s Mrs. Astor’s domain and her old-money friends fill all the boxes—newcomers need not apply. Undaunted, the Russells underwrite the building of a spectacular new venue, the Metropolitan Opera House. By boldly setting its opening on the same night that the Academy’s season begins, they force the elite to choose: stay loyal to Mrs. Astor or migrate to the glamorous new Met.
This “Opera War” really happened. Mrs. Astor faced off against nouveau-riche Alva Vanderbilt, whom Mr. Fellowes has said Bertha is based on.
Aside from Ms. Murphy, the cast includes Douglas Sills, Kelli O’Hara, and other musical theater stars from Broadway who give fine performances without singing a note. Ms. Jacobson, daughter of Meryl Streep, is a little tentative at first as Marian, but she gets better with each episode.
Viewers may be unfamiliar with Ms. Coon, but she dominates every scene she’s in. She shows us many sides of Bertha: her conflicted love for her husband, her controlling coldness with her children, and the insecurity hidden beneath her fearless social climbing.
Mr. Spector excels as George Russell. He shows us the disconnect between his aggressive business practices and his pure love for his wife and children.
Ms. Baranski has long been one of our best comediennes. With just a raised eyebrow, she makes viewers laugh out loud. In “The Gilded Age,” she smartly underplays her role—a woman whose patrician dignity masks a nature as willful and controlling as Bertha’s. Agnes is bossy, judgmental, heedlessly insulting, and dismissive of anything new, but from time to time, we get a glimpse of a caring, generous heart beneath her intimidating exterior.
Ms. Nixon is best known as Miranda, the workaholic lawyer in “Sex and the City.” After a few years’ flirtation with lefty politics, Ms. Nixon makes a welcome return to the small screen. Her Aunt Ada is the polar opposite of Miranda: shy, gentle, unworldly, and cruelly ridiculed by her sister Agnes, yet more observant and perceptive than anyone gives her credit for. It’s a beautiful performance.
For decades, Hollywood has given us exactly two types of African American characters: poor, helpless victims and raging militants. “The Gilded Age” gives us Peggy (Denée Benton), an ambitious young writer who befriends Marian and becomes Agnes’s secretary. The show doesn’t sugarcoat the hostility, restrictions, and dangers that black Americans faced in this period; instead, it reveals more.
“The Gilded Age” shows us a middle-class black community thriving, just 20 years after Emancipation. Peggy’s father is a pharmacist; her mother is a respected matron. Their neighbors have professions and businesses. The men wear suits and ties. The women wear tailored Victorian gowns, just like the white ladies.
Peggy, her parents, and their friends know that education is the key to black progress. When the school board closes “colored schools” without even informing parents, Peggy joins a group that protests the decision so politely and persuasively, the board votes reluctantly to keep two of the schools open.
Too many movies give the impression that black Americans were helpless and accomplished nothing until white liberals swooped in to save them. Rejecting this false notion, “The Gilded Age” inspires us with the courage of these early black New Yorkers—their grit, their hopes, and how much they achieved.
The production is a riot of ornamentation in a rainbow of colors. The luxurious interiors put European palaces to shame, and the fashions are even gaudier. The ladies appear in so many elaborate, eye-popping frocks and hats, they must have warehouses to hold them all.
“The Gilded Age” is a worthy follow-up to “Downton Abbey.” Season Two ends with an apparent victory in the Opera War, but there are enough loose ends to whet our appetites for Season Three, which is now in production.
