There is already enough content on Netflix which would give you a peek into the unhappy lives of married couples, of failed marriages, toxic relationships, and resultant trauma. You don’t watch Bridgerton for it. You watch Bridgerton for fun. For its light hearted, family oriented, romantic drama, when you basically want to unthink and unwind.
But Charlotte, which is a prequel to the Bridgerton series, unsettled me.
First things first. As we all know, Brigerton is not a period drama in the strictest sense of the term. This is the history of Great Britain - re-imagined and romanticised by the makers as an integrated, racially inclusive time where white and non white not just ate, mingled and danced together - but also courted and married.
The two part series of Bridgerton (and apparently many more to come) focused on the children of this aristocratic Bridgeton family and their romantic pursuits. Pursuits which always begin with conflict and end happily ever after. There were some side tracks too, which did not necessarily end on a happy note. But that does not divert our attention to the fact that the series validated falling in love as something that would give you lasting happiness, no matter what.
Charlotte is the story of the Queen of England (the eccentric Queen, one who declares the diamond of the season and sets the tone in Bridgerton). We all have a glimpse of her life in Bridgerton. We know that her husband, King George - is mentally unstable. The Queen lives alone, rules alone, and she seems to be quite good at it.
This is till we get the picture of the younger Charlotte - grappling with the understanding of what it means to be with a man who can be delusional.
Spoilers alert - but it is also actually quite predictable - Charlotte was married off to King George as a part of a great experiment to integrate the multi - racial ton in England. She has - like most royal marriages of alliance goes - no idea of what her husband will be like.
“He is the King” - is the reply she gets when she asks.
When she attempts to run away by crossing over a fence - King George stops her - and charms her back to the wedding. Having done that, he promptly abandons her in the good old Buckingham palace.
That was not the part which unsettled me, though. When we go through the entire series, we know that he leaves her because he is afraid of hurting her. Marrying her was something that he was prevailed upon to do - given that the Kingdom needed an heir to continue the royal lineage.
In academic terms, If we talk about hegemonic masculinity - his birth postulates him on the top of the ladder - and his state of mind throws him at the bottom. He must be the confident man the world wants to see when is utterly lost inside. He is respected by the ton and exploited by his own courtiers. His vulnerability moves us.
It is the burden which Charlotte had to carry that disturbed me.
She could not leave him, and it was not just the societal pressure that prevented her from breaking the marriage. She cannot leave him, simply because she loves him. Or chose to love him. It can be tricky, isn't it.
Her life was spent in supporting, hiding, validating and serving King George in his bouts of madness, so much that she had nothing but cold duty left for her own children. Her half a dozen children were only a means to prove - to the world and to her own mind - that they could have an heir who is normal and who will be carrying the lineage again.
A little research will tell us that some of the facts are indeed true (whether Charlotte is black or not is debatable, but King George’s illness is recorded). We have no way of knowing if their companionship was real - and that is what perhaps makes it even more sadder.
When I was watching Charlotte, I tried to put myself in her shoes and imagine how it would be to spend an entire lifetime with someone who might even forget your name one day. How it would be to console someone that he is worthy of you, and that you are happy - in spite of the envelope of sadness slowly consuming you.
And it is not just Charlotte’s story. Lady Danbury’s life with her selfish, insecure and abusive husband also disturbed me. Again, it was not the portrayal of the man that surprised me - we all know such men to be existing around us - it was the matter of fact in the way in which she dealt with the violence. Even rape was something taken as a given.
These are strong, intelligent women with a mind of their own. And they are not the only ones, from some bygone era. We see this around us - even now. Women trapped in abusive relationships because they do not have the resources to move out. Because they are not taught to be entitled to the resources. Women caught in the cycles of love and duty. Women enduring the trauma of living with a mentally ill person because we as a collective refuse to acknowledge mental issues.
And the cycle repeats. Queen Charlotte’s children grew distant from her - because she could never be the mother they wanted. Lady Danbury had no love for her children because they were brought into the world without her will.
Charlotte is a reflection of the past and present. But there are two silver livings to this. There is one relationship in the series which is formed, performed and lived on its own terms, even if it did not have any social or legal sanction (watch the series to know). The other is that ultimately, things get better when two women take charge of their own lives.
Charlotte is not the Crown - it can never come near it when it comes to quality or content - but for once, I am glad of its fiction. Or rather, this is the reason I prefer fiction.