(Minimal) spoiler alert: At the time of writing, I’d seen ONLY Episode 1 of Season 4; there are a couple of very light spoilers relating to said episode here. This blog post is more pertaining to Bridgerton and period dramas generally, rather than exploring the new season.
Read time: 4 minutes
I’ve just had the (immense) pleasure of finally delving into Season 4 of Bridgerton, and before I even got halfway through the first episode, I found myself mulling over the entertainment recipe that makes this series so damned delicious.
The escapism is one of the most obvious appeals. Period drama offers a special brand of immersion, in that, unlike fantasy and sci-fi, it only asks us to take a little step back in time – not to suspend our disbelief far enough to be transported to another world entirely. It’s much less of a leap compared to those other escapist genres, the places and people are more recognisable, and ultimately, it’s easier to imagine ourselves into the protagonists’ pointy buckled shoes.
Then there’s the fact that the world Bridgerton is transporting us to is an undeniably beautiful one. The “ton” is bright, colourful, clean, and aesthetically delightful in every detail (just look at that wisteria); the light is always lovely and the music never misses; pretty much everyone on screen has the face of an angel; and my God, those dresses. Sure, the characters have their concerns, but they’re by and large such different problems and priorities from our own that it’s hard to feel much second-hand stress about them. It’s just the right level of unrelatable to be a relaxing watch.
And finally – probably most potently – there is, of course, the unique flavour of romance. Here, period dramas also deliver something different to their contemporary counterparts. In stark contrast to a world in which sex not-infrequently precedes the exchange of names, the courtship dance of the Regency era (as well as plenty of other periods besides) demands a degree of patience and self-restraint that are almost non-existent in secular Western society today.
To those who wait…
Don’t get me wrong, I am not advocating for abstinence until marriage. Whilst I respect different perspectives on the matter, I personally wouldn’t want to commit my life to someone without exploring such an important facet of our relationship first. BUT. I’m also a big proponent of delayed gratification, and how (I believe) it enhances pretty much every experience. We don’t need a scientific study (although there are many on the subject) to tell us that the anticipation itself is a substantial part of enjoying whatever it is we’ve been anticipating – whether it’s a dessert, a gift, a holiday, a new season of a favourite Netflix series… or pretty much any aspect of a romantic entanglement. It is an undeniable truth that having to wait for what we want powerfully heightens the experience of getting it. In fact, how often is the anticipation actually better than the anticipated thing itself? We’ve all been there.
Between a talented cast and stellar cinematography, Bridgerton does an excellent job of ensuring we feel every ounce of the anticipation experienced by the characters on-screen – to the extent that the simple act of one adult placing their hand in another’s becomes positively thrilling. (Violet Bridgerton, I’m looking at you.) Between the fleeting glances and averted eyes, the artful camera angles and suggestive shots, not to mention the music, every detail conspires to generate heightened excitement around moments that might otherwise seem very innocuous to a modern (read: woefully desensitised) audience.
Simpler times
Apart from the whole anticipation thing, this excitement also recalls simpler times. I don’t only mean in history – although anyone who’s spent much time on Tinder probably has experienced the wistful longing for days when the process of procuring a partner didn’t entail flicking through a human catalogue of copy-paste quips and endless, similar selfies. No, I also mean simpler times on our own individual timelines. I’ve heard more adults than I can count lament the loss of kissing simply for the sake of kissing — an activity too many of us leave behind in our teenage years. Perhaps it’s because of the prevalence of the opposite opinion, which I’ve also heard cited countless times: once you’ve “progressed” to sex with someone, what’s the point of passionate kissing, unless as a precursor… to more sex?
Meanwhile, I remember a time, as a teenager, when the “will-he-won’t-he” question of whether my (first ever) date was going to hold my hand in the cinema repeatedly filled my stomach with such a deluge of nervous butterflies, I couldn’t eat a thing the whole rest of the day. A couple of years later, I recall the thrill of a parting kiss on the cheek from a prospective flame; a friend recently mocked me mercilessly for saying I thought something so simple could be very sexy in the right context. I’d literally just made a note about that second memory whilst watching Episode 1 of the new Bridgerton season, when Benedict kissed the cheek of his mysterious masked “ingenue”, before removing her glove to kiss her hand. Thanks to this context – the social constraints, the taboo – the gestures are palpably charged. As a viewer, you can practically feel the sensation of his lips on her skin; the rush of the moment, the tension, is visceral. It is, in short, incredibly sexy.
“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet”
Of course, there are plenty of more explicit sexual encounters in Bridgerton. Even in the scene I just described between Benedict and the woman at the ball, she does actually go ahead and kiss him fully on the mouth just after the glove manoeuvre. But that’s not the point. The point is, that I suspect a huge part of the appeal of this series, and the many others like it, is the socially-imposed delayed gratification that a lot of us, whether consciously or not, are feeling a lack of in our lives. It’s not just about sex and romance. To live in a wealthy city (and plenty of other places besides) in this day and age is to have near-immediate access to almost any want or whim that tickles your fancy, often around the clock. Whether you’re bored, aching, lonely, hungry, horny… There’s an app for that. A service. Something you can buy, or order; someone you call. I think it’s easy to forget the deliciousness of indulging a desire after a wait in this era of instant gratification. Perhaps period drama serves to remind us.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve waited quite long enough for this gratification – I’m off to watch some more Benedi- I mean, Bridgerton.
Adventures of an Anglaise 
Leave a comment