Who Gets to Love?
Racial Representation of Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton
This essay was written for TV and New Media Midterm
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a perfect incandescently happy romance must be in want of two able-bodied, affluent white couples. As a massive dork of the BBC 1995 Pride and Prejudice (P&P) miniseries, I, along with millions of others, have always had this preconceived notion of a period drama — a lush, twisty plot set in a huge mansion in Regency-era English countryside. Bridgerton — with its colorblind casting — came to offer an alternative, a way to confront that particular notion in 2020. Brown girls like me, finally, will be able to see themselves in mainstream period drama series. This think-piece will try to unpack the demographic shift in period drama series and relate it with the changing practice of television production and distribution.
The core debate of this phenomenon is always centered around the political implication of putting Black faces on traditionally white characters, which some deems reflects historical inaccuracy. Then the question would be: does historicity matter if the lack of historical accuracy is the point? And if so, does historicity worth sacrificing to reflect the broader audience of television series that keeps getting global?
On the one hand, making racial dynamics and oppression trivial also delegitimizes its relevance in today’s societal structure. Bridgerton is tiptoeing around this fact, while the BBC 1995 P&P miniseries is more conservative in its take, opting to play safe with its all-white casts.
A popular takeaway on this question will be based on the essence of the series itself. Numerous critics have argued that an accurate depiction of history would be too heavy for a lightweight Bridgerton. It is a frothy, silly escapism that builds itself as a fantasy (Romano, 2021). From sound mixing to aesthetic choices, Bridgerton feels contemporary. Just listen to its violin rendition of Billie Eilish’s Bad Guy and Ariana Grande’s Thank You Next soundtrack, or look at the unusually bright and vivid colored costumes. It is nothing like the 1995 P&P miniseries that mainly use classical music soundtrack and earthly toned color on its costume to reflect the historical accuracy of the Regency era. These insignia pose as distinguishing marks of Bridgerton from classic period drama series. In this alternate universe, 19th century England has black Duke and instrumental rendition of top 40 charts.
I would argue that this shift reflects the globalized nature of Bridgerton. Television series have always existed with their function as a “source of reflexivity” to their audience (Kim, 2013). BBC 1995 P&P miniseries production did not have a global audience because the British mainly watched the BBC miniseries. Bridgerton has Netflix — an international streaming service — at the helm of control. Therefore, there is a particular push for Bridgerton to reflect the globalized world where everyone has to be in the narrative because everyone is enjoying the narrative. In this sense, historicity does not matter. People need to see themselves on TV. The audience needs to see that people who look like them can find love.
As hopeful as I might be, I got more disappointed as Bridgerton progressed. Although multiple Black characters seem like dominating the show from hindsight, their identity and power are still seen in regards to other affluent white characters. The overtly sexualized and predatory mulatta, Marina, serves as a comparison — the Black Swan — to the dainty and pure woman lead, strawberry blonde Daphne. Even the infamous Duke of Hastings can not escape this Orientalist view of agency in romance. Bridgertons blatant eroticization of Simon, the Duke of Hastings — the nudity, the lingering shots of his bodies — shows the use of “imperial female gaze.” (Garden, 2021). Daphne consumes Simon with her white gaze that reduces him to a mere artifact. This fetishization must be understood as part of a long cultural history of eroticizing people of color, particularly black bodies. The practice goes back as far as dark-skinned Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. This take suggests that Bridgerton does not revolutionize anything from the BBC 1995 P&P miniseries. After all, portraying the male lead as people of color would not change the essence significantly, if white women still retain their agency in defining romance. The pure heart white lady gets to decide who gets to love and how the love will be.
With this contention in mind, Bridgerton is less progressive than we might think. Through the lens of the hegemonic process in television, Bridgerton still aims to protect the dominant notion of the virtue of white women in their romantic quest while also incorporating a small (or enough) amount of oppositional notion that includes black faces in the narrative. Enough difference is introduced to give the appearance of change, yet enough remains the same to avoid upsetting the balance within the dominant ideology (Dow, 1990). Bridgerton does not dare to present us with a complete deconstruction of the period romance genre. It retains the plot toolkit of the genre and its depiction of characters’ agency. Seeing it through this context allows us to see how historicity matters because it is not only whether there are people of color on screens, but also what does their presence means in relation to the plot structure.
Though Bridgerton has framed and marketed itself as a bastion that will change the look of period drama series, in the end I found myself disappointed in its maneuver in handling race. By only scratching the surface, and not daring itself to pierce deep into the underlying problem of imbalanced power dynamics, it does not do the genre nor the issue of racism justice. The agency on who gets to love has not shifted, and it will be interesting to see whether the next season will do anything about it.
References
Dow, B. (1990). Hegemony, feminist criticism and the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Critical Studies In Mass Communication, 7(3), 261–274. https://doi.org/10.1080/15295039009360178
Hinds, C. (2021). ‘Bridgerton’ Sees Race Through a Colorist Lens. Observer. Retrieved 9 December 2021, from https://observer.com/2021/01/bridgerton-sees-race-through-a-colorist-lens/.
Kim, Y. The Korean wave (1st ed.).
Romano, A. (2020). Netflix’s new Regency drama Bridgerton is as shallow as the aristocrats it skewers. Vox. Retrieved 9 December 2021, from https://www.vox.com/22178125/bridgerton-netflix-review-regency-romance.
Romano, A. (2020). Why we’ll never stop arguing about Hamilton. Vox. Retrieved 9 December 2021, from https://www.vox.com/culture/21305967/hamilton-debate-controversy-historical-accuracy-explained.
Romano, A. (2021). Why Bridgerton’s depiction of race is so unsatisfying. Vox. Retrieved 9 December 2021, from https://www.vox.com/22215076/bridgerton-race-racism-historical-accuracy-alternate-history.
Salam, E. (2020). ‘Bridgerton’ Is Nowhere Near Perfect on Race, but It’s Still a Step Forward. Cosmopolitan. Retrieved 9 December 2021, from https://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/tv/a35180762/bridgerton-review-race/.
Tillet, S. (2021). ‘Bridgerton’ Takes On Race. But Its Core Is Escapism.. Nytimes.com. Retrieved 9 December 2021, from https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/05/arts/television/bridgerton-race-netflix.html.
