Review: 'The Gilded Age' is must-see TV
There's nothing like watching the rich enjoying their privileges. And "The Gilded Age," on HBO, is an American version of "Downton Abbey," with the same creator -- Emmy- and Oscar-winner Julian Fellowes -- spinning his magic around the feuds between old money and new.
If "The Gilded Age," set in little old New York around 1882, lacks the upstairs/downstairs appeal that Fellowes brought to the loyalties and rivalries of masters and servants on "Downton" and "Gosford Park," it comes close enough to make the series must-see TV.
It also helps that the cast is sheer perfection, starting with the brilliant Christine Baranski as Agnes van Rhijn, a monied widow with a razor-sharp wit. When someone foolishly tells Agnes that money isn't everything, Baranski fills the syllable "ha!" with a lifetime of delicious disdain.
Agnes shares her aggressively tasteful mansion on Central Park East with her spinster sister Ada (Cynthia Nixon). On a break from playing the sexually fluid Miranda on "And Just Like That," Nixon artfully reveals the quiet rebellion roiling inside Ada's surface show of obedience.
Everything changes when Agnes and Ada take in a niece they barely know. She is Marian Brooks, played by Louisa Jacobson, Meryl Streep's lookalike daughter, and an actress with the skill and strength to illuminate the secret heart of a character whose late father was responsible for the financial ruin of his estranged sisters.
The penniless and homeless Marian now depends on the kindness of her aunts despite their lingering hatred of Marian's adored father. You can't blame Agnes for feeling bitter. To survive, she took a husband of enormous wealth, though he is scarily described as "a man you would never want to be alone with." Ouch!
And, wait, we're just beginning. On a train from Pennsylvania to New York, Marian befriends Peggy (a terrific Denée Benton), a Black woman and wannabe writer who, with Marian's help, snags a job as social secretary to Agnes.
Racism gives way to the class bias as Agnes recoils in horror from the new money that moves in across the street. He is George Russell (Morgan Spector), a railroad baron who uses money to gobble up the competition, much like today's tech billionaires.
Still, it's George's wife Bertha, played by the miraculous Carrie Coon, who launches the class revolution by trying to horn into a society that doesn't want her or her family until economic pressure becomes an indisputable leveler.
There's enough plot here to launch several seasons of gossipy, gritty soap opera. On the basis of the five episodes, of nine, sent to critics, there's no telling how well these strands will develop into a cohesive whole. Surprisingly for Fellowes, the servant set -- so sublime on "Downton" -- gets short shrift. More please, and quickly.
What an inspiration to recruit so many Tony-winning stage actors to the team. From Donna Murphy as snob supreme Mrs. Astor to Nathan Lane as Ward McAllister, her social arbiter, to Audra MacDonald, Michael Cerveris, Kelli O'Hara, Bill Irwin, Simon Jones and Celia Keenan-Bolger in juicy support, the cast Is a who's who of theatrical royalty.
"The Gilded Age" is a glittering feast for the eyes and ears. Still, it's the actors who dig beneath the pretty surface and bring flesh, blood, laughter and tears to the characters Fellowes created. Is it more playful than profound, more froth than substance? Maybe. It's also totally irresistible.
