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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Lucy Mangan

The Gilded Age review – Julian Fellowes’ stinky rich New Yorkers are sheer agony

All of human life is here. Not in any credible way – just here … The Gilded Age.
All of human life is here. Not in any credible way – just here … The Gilded Age. Photograph: Alison Cohen Rosa/© 2021 Heyday Productions, LLC and Universal Television LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Boost your vaccinations, don whatever PPE you have to hand – the new variant Julian Fellowes has breached our shores. This time, his typing is set in late 19th-century New York. Yes, it’s Brownstone Abbey. Its official title is The Gilded Age (Sky Atlantic), but we all know what we are dealing with. There are posh people – the old families who have been in New York since it was a glint in a Dutchman’s eye. Then there are the upstart types who made buckets of stinky new money building railroads and are now busy building mansions all over Manhattan and trying to lay down tracks into smart society. We’ll call them the Shamderbilts. And then there are servants, who live beneath these posh people and bitch about them whenever the restraining influence of the butler is absent.

We lay our scene in Central Park. It is 1882 it’s full of sheep. They turn and run from the camera. It is a wise move, all things considered.

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