REVIEW: ‘The Gilded Ageʼ Season 3 Shines Through Its Flaws

Disclaimer: This review contains spoilers for 'The Gilded Age' Season 3.

Julian Fellowes' The Gilded Age returns for a third season on HBO on June 22, and if you thought the drawing rooms and dinner parties couldn’t get any sharper, you were mistaken. From the opening frames of a snow-swept New York spring, it’s clear this season isn’t here to dawdle as the war between new and old money rages on.

At the center of it all is Bertha Russell (Carrie Coon), society’s most determined social climber, whose ambition has never been so direct or so divisive. Coon plays her with restraint, all posture and control, though cracks do begin to show in both herself and her marriage. The Russell household is noticeably less united this season, with George (Morgan Spector) off on business and the rest of the family navigating rifts of their own. The family drama is commanding, even if not always well-paced.

As Bertha tries to engineer her daughter’s future, their conflict becomes as much about autonomy as status. Gladys gains as much agency, voice, and fight as a woman in her position is allowed (so, not a lot for the modern-day viewer, but watching her come into her own, as much as she can, is a delight). Larry (Harry Richardson) has things easier, but this doesn't mean he doesn't have a rough go of it. His will-they-won't-they with Marian (Louisa Jacobson) is the focal point for each, with plenty of drama to come between them. Whether or not you'll be invested will depend on whether you care for either character. Both lack development as individuals and as a pair, but they are sweet.

Coon is never better than when Bertha begins to sense she might have finally gone too far, not in society, but with her own family. Her need to dominate every room begins to clash with the dawning realisation that her victories come at personal cost. The season’s most powerful moments aren’t at balls or dinners, but in the devastation that passes between her and George, or in the distance between her and her children as they begin to leave her grasp.

Carrie Coon © HBO

Meanwhile, Agnes Van Rhijn (Christine Baranski) remains the show’s crown jewel. Every cutting remark is a gift, and her sparring with Ada (Cynthia Nixon) reaches new comedic heights. Whether she’s objecting to the use of her silver by commoners or declaring she is discerning, not petty, thank you very much, Agnes is an unrelenting delight. Her disdain for Ada’s temperance antics is as hilarious as it is biting, with 'Luke drank wine and served it at communion, just like Jesus’ being a particular gem.

But what elevates their squabbling beyond comic relief is the unspoken love that runs beneath it. This season finally gives Ada something of her own, a purpose, and at times, the upper hand as the head of the household. Watching her surprise both her sister and the household staff with uncertain but growing authority is richly satisfying. Agnes, naturally, resists every change tooth and nail, even as she gradually acknowledges Ada’s influence. Whether battling over charitable causes or the meaning of a well-lived life, their relationship becomes a touching exploration of grief, regret, and interdependence. Baranski and Nixon remain the series’ best asset, whose every shared scene feels like a masterclass. If only they were utilised more.

And then there are Ada’s séance scenes, which initially feel like throwaway comic relief but quietly blossom into something far more poignant. Grieving and searching for meaning, Ada is drawn into spiritualism with wide-eyed sincerity, hoping to contact her late husband, Luke. It’s faintly ridiculous (and Agnes certainly treats it as such), but Nixon plays it without a shred of irony, which makes it land. What could’ve been played for laughs becomes a look at loneliness and longing that will tug at the heartstrings.

Another highlight of the season is Denee Benton’s Peggy Scott. Her professional ambitions continue to bloom, as does her personal life. While I don't want to spoil much, a slow-burn connection with Dr. Kirkland unfolds with tenderness and nuance you won't be able to look away from. While the romance builds gradually, it’s all the stronger for it.

The season also continues to engage with the realities of race and racism in 19th-century America. Through Peggy's interactions with the Kirklands, a newly introduced black family of status and education, and Kirkland's position as a doctor in the city, the reactions they face from white society and within their community allow the show to explore respectability politics and the precariousness of advancement. A moment involving a refusal of medical treatment is a stark reminder that wealth and virtue do not protect against prejudice. Gossip surrounding Peggy's traumatic past, revealed last season, further provides Benton and Audra McDonald (Dorothy Scott) with some of season three's best material.

Audra McDonald and Denée Benton © HBO

That said, The Gilded Age remains chronically overstuffed. The cast is enormous, and characters often flit in and out with life-changing developments (or deaths) in tow, as if handed to them by an offscreen telegram that Fellowes served to let them know their time in the ensemble is up. New characters are introduced, namely Merritt Wever as Bertha's sister Monica, and disappear as quickly as they arrived. Some romances blossom without build-up, while others end in a single scene. Major plot twists land without fanfare. Kelli O'Hara, in particular, is underused in a storyline that should have placed her at the forefront of the show. We also say goodbye to a character we didn’t know well enough, despite the pain their absence causes to those left behind. At times, it feels like Fellowes is trying to write six shows at once, and while some threads are thrilling, others are frustratingly neglected.

The show continues to overestimate our care for the Russells’ downstairs staff, while underestimating our care for those across the street. Despite generous screen time, the Russell servants remain thin, often relegated to gossiping about their employers or fighting to discover who is leaking private information to the papers. It’s not that they aren’t capable - the talent is stacked with the best of Broadway - it’s that they’re rarely given material beyond function. There’s an obvious interest in building a Downton-style dual world, which worked in its British counterpart, but the writing just doesn’t commit to giving the downstairs half of the Russell house any real shape or substance here.

At the Forte/Van Rhijn house, however, it’s another story. Their household staff are far more engaging, despite a lack of storylines for many. Jack stands out among them, whose continued subplot involving the invention of his clock is one of the most engaging storylines of the season. Ben Ahlers is a delight in the role, charming and entirely believable as a young man toeing the line between service and self-determination. His scenes, whether downstairs or with the women of the household, are among the show’s most human. It’s a rare example of the series letting a character rise organically rather than being thrust into melodrama for the sake of it.

Season 3 of The Gilded Age is rich in drama and well performed, but it rushes too much, sometimes never quite earning its stakes. It seems to run on instinct, not structure, and while that can be exhilarating, it can also be infuriating when you can see its full potential there.

Still, when it works, it works. The season builds toward several satisfying climaxes, each personal, social, and romantic, and the final two episodes deliver some of the most lavish visual sequences the series has produced.

Rating: ★★★★☆

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© HBO

About The Gilded Age

Premiere Date: June 22

Episode Count: 8

Executive Producer/Showrunner: Julian Fellowes, Gareth Neame, David Crockett, Michael Engler, Bob Greenblatt, Sonja Warfield, and Salli Richardson-Whitfield

Writer: Julian Fellowes and Sonja Warfield

Director: Michael Engler and Salli Richardson-Whitfield

Production: HBO and Universal Television

Distribution: HBO

Cast: Carrie Coon, Christine Baranski, Cynthia Nixon, Morgan Spector, Louisa Jacobson, Denée Benton, Taissa Farmiga, Harry Richardson, Blake Ritson, Ben Ahlers, Ashlie Atkinson, Dylan Baker, Kate Baldwin, Victoria Clark, John Ellison Conlee, Michael Cumpsty, Kelley Curran, Jordan Donica, Jessica Frances Dukes, Claybourne Elder, Amy Forsyth, Jack Gilpin, LisaGay Hamilton, Ward Horton, Simon Jones, Celia Keenan-Bolger, Ben Lamb, Nathan Lane, Andrea Martin, Audra McDonald, Brian Stokes Mitchell, Debra Monk, Hattie Morahan, Donna Murphy, Kristine Nielsen, Paul Alexander Nolan,  Kelli O’Hara, Patrick Page, Rachel Pickup, Taylor Richardson, Douglas Sills, Bobby Steggert, Erin Wilhelmi, John Douglas Thompson, Leslie Uggams, Merritt Wever, with Bill Camp and Phylicia Rashad.

Synopsis: The American Gilded Age was a period of immense economic and social change, when empires were built, but no victory came without sacrifice. Following the Opera War, the old guard is weakened and the Russells stand poised to take their place at the head of society. Bertha sets her sights on a prize that would elevate the family to unimaginable heights while George risks everything on a gambit that could revolutionize the railroad industry — if it doesn’t ruin him first. Across the street, the Brook household is thrown into chaos as Agnes refuses to accept Ada’s new position as lady of the house. Peggy meets a handsome doctor from Newport whose family is less than enthusiastic about her career. As all of New York hastens toward the future, their ambition may come at the cost of what they truly hold dear.