Review

Culture

Film & TV

26 May 2024

6 min read

When a wallflower blossoms

Unpicking Bridgerton’s complex coding.

Bex Chapman

Bex is a freelance journalist and consultant who writes about culture, the church, and both government and governance.

A young lady in Regency dress, holds a fan while looking around a garden.

Lady Penelope Featherington, played by Nicola Coughlan.

Shondaland.

Dearest gentle reader, are there any among us who do not love that most marvellous of transformations, a makeover? Something about a new dress, a new hairstyle, even a new lipstick, somehow has the power to make you feel full of potential. Maybe today will be different. Maybe today I won’t stand on the sidelines. Maybe today, I will be different. A lipstick isn’t going to dramatically change how you look of course – the power is in how it makes you feel. But what do you do when how you feel inside seems so different to how you behave on the outside? When you know that you can be witty, and funny, and charming, but somehow what comes out is shy silence, or worse, utter waffle?

And so, in series three of Bridgerton, the hugely popular Netflix show from Shondaland that brings together regency romance, pop-anthem string covers, colourblind casting and some very modern sensibilities – we see Penelope Featherington, to-date the wallflower of the show, step out from the shadows. She has given herself the most modern of regency style transformations. Her clear instructions to the modiste about her new colour-scheme, her hair, how she wants to present, brook no argument. And she pulls it off with aplomb – the gasps as she descends the inevitable staircase, looking stunning as the strings belt out a-b-c-d-e-f-u, are gratifying. It is hard not to be thrilled for her at the response elicited – the garish citrus florals are gone, and in their place is a new, soft, romantic look, complete with Rita Hayworth hair. She is owning it, finally full of confidence, and it’s fabulous. Our fan-favourite sidekick has become a compelling heroine in her own right.

This third series is full of romance, but also relationships. It is only in figuring out who we are, that we can best relate to others.

But this isn’t the end. This story is just getting started. She might look fabulous, but as Pen tries to launch herself at the town's marriage mart (third time lucky?!) she anxiously fluffs it on an epic scale. And she knows it. Flinging herself onto her bed, she throws down her fan in despair; ‘deep inside, I know I can be clever and amusing but somehow my character gets lost between my heart and sometimes I find myself saying the wrong thing, or more likely, nothing at all’ she explains subsequently. Her work is thriving – as gossip columnist Whistledown she is the talk of the town, making money, with a pen that gives her a power she never dreamed possible as she shares all of Mayfair’s secrets. But her personal life is a mess. On paper she is nailing it; in person she is a disaster.

Charm school isn’t a new concept in a romcom, but nonetheless upon Pen pouring her heart out to long-time crush Colin Bridgerton, he decides to offer a My Fair Lady approach, promising that he has picked up plenty of tips in Paris that he can share. This won’t go exactly according to plan, and the judgement of the town comes down on poor Penelope again, but this series she isn’t going to retreat in shame or fear; the Whistledown in her isn’t prepared to let her go back to just being an accepting wallflower. This series the colours are brighter, the wigs are that much higher, the ballgowns are even more brilliant, and this time, Pen is going to get herself a husband, despite the assumptions and agendas of her truly awful family. And we are here for it - 3.6 million UK-based viewers watched the season 3 premier within a week of release, outperforming the season 2 opener. 'Polin', as fans have named the burgeoning romance between Pen and the newly-buffed up Mr Bridgerton, is perfect for binging.

If the first series of Bridgerton was all about the steamy sex, the second series seemed like it was all about longing and yearning for what couldn’t be, then this third series is full of romance, but also relationships. It is only in figuring out who we are, that we can best relate to others. That might be with potential partners, as Pen rejoices as she finally pulls off a successful interlude with a suitor she concedes – ‘I was feeling so low, in fact it somehow allowed me to stop caring so much about how I was perceived and … I was simply myself’.

God knows us inside and out. He can discern our thoughts from far further away than across a crowded ballroom.

Being confident in who we are is appealing, even in the Bridgerton world, and Lord Debling (her paramour of the moment) acknowledges ‘I want to be with someone who knows who they are and embraces their own peculiarity as I do’. This isn’t purely about who we are on the outside, or on image, but about identity. And how we make that identity authentic, even when we act differently depending on who we are with. Nicola Coughlan who plays Penelope calls this code switching and notes Pen is ‘code switching a little more than most people do’ as she juggles her public role as a debutante with her private role as Whistledown. Maybe we aren’t exactly the same at work as we are with friends, or with our grandma as we are with our partner, but does this make each aspect less authentic?

We may try to choose which aspects we present to our peers or even our partners, but none of those different parts of us can be hidden from God. Terrifying though this might sometimes seem, because as humans we are prone to anxiety and awkward mistakes, God knows us inside and out. He can discern our thoughts from far further away than across a crowded ballroom, and yet he knows how many hairs are on our head (however high it is styled!) – and yet he loves us so much. He already knows the parts of ourselves that we chose to show, and those we try to hide from the rest of the world. As author Philip Yancey wrote ‘There is nothing we can do to make God love us more and there is nothing we can do to make God love us less.’

People, however, are easier to keep secrets from. Pen is still hiding the secret of her alter ego from almost all her friends and family. It’s a secret that has already ruined her relationship with BFF Eloise. Showrunner Jess Brownell has described the will they/won’t they of the wreckage of their friendship as the ‘secondary love story of the season’ noting that like any relationship, friendships just aren’t linear. Nor do all relationships develop in the same way – this series we have seen Mama Bridgerton have her own meet-cute to a Sia soundtrack, and Francesca Bridgerton has herself a very reserved romance incorporating silence and sheet music. This has led to discussions online about whether Fran’s character is on the autistic spectrum due to her introvert nature and rich internal world. Love can come in all shapes and sizes here in the Bridgerton universe – literally as well as figuratively. This reality has room for everyone. But it remains to be seen if Pen and Colin can have a future in a world where both her identities are revealed; he has sworn to ruin Whistledown… when he discovers the truth, will he want to marry his former wallflower?

Bridgerton series 3 part 2 will be released on 13 June.

Article

America

Conspiracy theory

Culture

Politics

18 September 2024

5 min read

US election: the primal stories trumping facts

Projections and polls cannot capture the power of stories shaping identity.

Jared Stacy

Jared Stacy holds a Theological Ethics PhD from the University of Aberdeen. His research focuses conspiracy theory, politics, and evangelicalism.

a map depicts US states coloured red and blue.

538 election prediction map.

ABC News.

Washington D.C. — Election throes in America are intensifying while citizens prepare to cast their votes. The last week alone has been something like a whirlwind, not to mention the entire campaign itself.

Last week, Americans tuned into the first and possibly final Presidential debate between Trump and Harris. On the heels of the debate came a flurry of propaganda leveled by JD Vance (and promoted by Trump) against Haitian migrant communities in Ohio. These claims resulted in bomb threats and school closures.

And to wrap up the week, a second assassination attempt on Donald Trump in nearly as many months. Trump and his campaign, quicker and more direct that the first attempt, quickly cast the blame towards Democrats, specifically for what they see as violent rhetoric in describing Trump as a “threat to democracy.” Trump meanwhile continues to campaign on threats and claims of election fraud, refusing to signal he’d accept the certified results of the election in the event he loses.

That’s just another week in an unpredictable American presidential election.

Americans are besieged, all of us, by a throng of pollsters, partisans, and pundits. Each trying to ride the raging bull of the election cycle.

And life goes on. For now, in this time, in my small corner of American life, I find there is this mixture of exhausted apathy and existential rage. In view of the spectacle, there’s a general exasperation of “what will happen next?” But more personally, dispersed on social media, is the existential zeal and dread—“we” have to defeat “them!”

The danger of this mixture is twofold. Just as odd as it is potent. It is also combustible. And just as it can lay dormant; it can also be summoned by a mere spark.

Americans are besieged, all of us, by a throng of pollsters, partisans, and pundits. Each trying to ride the raging bull of the election cycle with predictions and projections. Some offer prayer.

I listen in on conservative Christian talk radio. Prayers offered on air for God to intervene. What follows is a litany of slogans— “secure our borders” and “defend life” and “the economy” — and of course prayers for the salvation of those who think differently.

Then, there’s more daring outrage merchants with deep pockets. Those who try to shift the election through nefarious means. Like the case of Tenet Media, a media network of right-wing American podcasters who were recently indicted by the Justice Department for receiving Russian funds through fronted companies.

It seems to me that the heart of the matter in the midst of this election, deeper than policy and beyond the spectacle, is that none of us are entirely sure what reality another person inhabits.

A new study published last week found that most registered Republicans (at 67 per cent) trust the Trump campaign as their primary source for election information. Trump’s word, for nearly three quarters of his party, is given more authority than government certification, media-based news, or local news.

This raises the possibility that, in 50-some-odd days, if Trump refuses to concede, if he repeats claims of election fraud, his base seems ready and willing to believe it.

Our social and political worlds have been set on fire not for want of facts but by stories which overpower fact with meaning.

Alongside the debates about policy, the propaganda that stokes division and dehumanizes migrant communities, is a deeper crisis of source authority. Of not just “facts” but truth, of meaning, of reality.

The study revealed that most Americans signal they tend to trust information that comes from “data” and “facts.” But oddly enough, nothing about that statement seems to accord with the on the ground reality of America’s social fabric.

We should know by now: facts have never been enough.

100 years ago, as novelist Rebecca West reflected on the chaotic series of events that sparked World War I, she admitted, “I shall never be able to understand how it happened. It is not that there are too few facts available, but that there are too many.”

What seems “real” for many Americans is not (and perhaps has never been) rooted entirely in the all-powerful “fact.” Our social and political worlds have been set on fire not for want of facts but by stories which overpower fact with meaning. These stories are primal. They’re the kind which create identities and bind communities. They are rich in meaning and so prove entirely immune to fact-checking operations. Source authority has no power apart from primal stories. And though projections and polls tend to focus on the data, they cannot capture the power of stories which create identity and contain community. This is the stuff the vote is made of, too.

This past week, JD Vance defended his propaganda in the form of conspiracy theories of Haitian migrants eating pets by telling CNN, “If I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then that's what I'm going to do.”

Ends-justifies-means has always been ascendant in politics. Nobody is arguing that MAGA invented political expediency. But this election is careening towards deep waters which we would do well to avoid.

“Propaganda is a means to an end,” said Reich Minister of Propaganda Joseph Goebbels in 1934 before an audience at Nuremberg, “…it provides the background music...[it] miraculously makes the unpopular popular, enabling even a government’s most difficult decisions to secure the resolute support of the people.”

I do not know what the next 50 days will hold. I remain deeply concerned that the word of Trump aspires to assume an authority which sees democracy as a meddling imposition in one man’s destiny. But I do know that none of this is fated. As Augustine observed during the throes of Rome’s collapse: “Bad times! Hard times!” this is what they are saying. But let us live well and the times shall be well. We are the times. Such as we are, such are the times.

May it be so.