If you’re anything like me, you’ve been waiting for the latest season of “Bridgerton” for two years, one month and 21 days. The series, co-produced by Netflix and Shondaland, probably needs no introduction, given that season three has enjoyed six consecutive weeks on Netflix’s top 10 list, with five weeks in the number one seat.
When I finally got the chance to press play on the first four episodes, I thought I knew what to expect. With a steady stream of promotional material and context from Julia Quinn’s “Bridgerton” book series, I was confident that the small screen’s third season would deliver.
It did. Too much so.
Season three focuses on Penelope Featherington — played by Nicola Coughlan — as she blossoms into Mayfair society for a third and final time. She holds high hopes of marrying, mainly to avoid growing old with her mother. Enter Colin Bridgerton, played by Luke Newton, Penelope’s long-time friend and longer-time unrequited love. Oblivious to her resigned feelings and his own dormant sentiments, Colin offers to assist Penelope in her mission to marry. As the pair set off on their story, complications, jealousy and carriage sex scenes ensue.
Season three also follows Francesca Bridgerton, Colin’s sister, as she debuts in society and tries to engage with romance on her own, more reserved, terms. With a cliffhanger to close the season’s first half, I had a month to negotiate a pressing question. What just happened?
As the title implies, “Bridgerton” follows the namesake family and its eight siblings — each with alphabetical names corresponding to their birth order. In Quinn’s novels, the development of each character’s romance is told somewhat individually. For the screen, however, the writers of “Bridgerton” grapple with the difficult task of weaving in the protagonist of the season, maintaining the continuity of plotlines and protagonists past and beginning the stories of leads in seasons to come.
While the transition between season one and season two felt seamless, season three struggled to reconcile past and present threads. By the time I sat down to watch episodes five through eight, I was mostly sure that everything had happened in episodes one through four; the plot seemed finished. In this season, pacing poses a big problem.
Which leaves us with my central concern: season three has too many cooks in the “Bridgerton” kitchen. The oversaturation of the season with main characters meant B-plots, C-plots and D-plots, many of which resolved with little-to-no effect on the circumstances of the greater story arc.
All the while, our A-plot (or C-plot, if we’re to base it off of the Bridgerton sibling in question) gets lost. Colin and Penelope feel much like the supporting characters we watched in seasons one and two, despite their supposed centrality. In the rush and resolution of their story, the audience is unable to truly connect to their development as a couple. Moments of tension and uncertainty feel inorganic at best and unnecessary at worst.
Season three’s makeup and costuming also distract from Penelope and Colin as leads. The show’s first season instantly received praise for its bold fusion of modernity and historical accuracy as a unique take on the period-piece format. However, in the latest eight episodes, the regency-period setting feels more like a mad-libs suggestion than an intentional background.
Penelope sports dramatic lashes and bold lip colors. Her fingers are decorated with light pink acrylic tips. By the end of the season, her hair flows freely past her shoulders in long waves that harken to 1950s pinup styles more than the curled updos of the regency era.
Personally, I am not usually a stickler for strict adherence to historical canons in media. Much of the show’s appeal lies in its fantastical quality, the stories that become possible when the rules are bent. But “Bridgerton” established a universe where women cannot touch men without silk gloves — where women wear regency style, empire-line dresses in soft pinks, blues and occasionally a garish yellow. Penelope’s transformation dress is a deep teal, her gloves a translucent black and her eyes are smoky.
The rules aren’t just bent in season three; they’re broken.
Unfortunately, the same goes for the social conventions that once ruled the narrative. Penelope and Colin publicly stroll without the presence of a chaperone — with little-to-no consequence. Two seasons earlier, the mere rumor of Daphne Bridgerton alone with her love interest was a great, pressing threat to the protagonist’s reputation and place in society.
As a viewer, I spent more time adjusting to the show’s new reality and admiring elaborate wardrobes than I did investing in the development of relationships and characters. When the established rules of society are blatantly violated or ignored, it’s difficult to establish meaningful stakes.
If I had to chalk up these missteps to one culprit, I’d point the finger at fan service. After reading “Romancing Mister Bridgerton,” the fourth book in the “Bridgerton” series, it’s clear that the winks and nods to the show’s source material were littered throughout for the most attentive and dedicated fans. A specific line here, a nostalgic anecdote there. In this season’s adherence to the specificities of the book series, it creates moments of interest for only a select few. A dialogue that is otherwise flat and seemingly random without context weighs down the already jam-packed narrative.
The season’s ending wraps up as expected, especially given the number of loose ends there were to tie. Penelope and Colin are a pair just about as compelling as that couple that you know of through mutual friends. Francesca’s story leaves off on a note that slightly diverges from Quinn’s original narrative, and I enjoyed the idea of something fresh growing out of a season that left things more or less where they started.
Though season three left me wanting, I can’t denounce the pull of the series as a whole, with its leaps and bounds in creativity, diversity and the sheer talent of the cast and artists. Those factors are what garner “Bridgerton” millions of viewers; none of those things were impacted by some haphazard writing and strange wardrobe choices. At most, I can say this season is a net neutral. Hopefully, season four will cut its laundry list of narratives and truly center on the central couple.
Rating: ★★
