If you’ve read A Clash of Kings, the second book in the epic fantasy series that Game of Thrones is based on, you know that it mainly involves moving people into position, and then it all pays off in book three, A Storm of Swords (where we get the Red Wedding). “Head to Head” is a very second-book sort of episode, except I doubt that Ada and the reverend will be stabbed by Bertha Russell at their wedding. (Unless …?)
In other words, not a lot happens in this episode. We learn that the Duke of Buckingham is on his way and that Peggy is going to go to Alabama. Something dramatic will likely occur with George Russell’s workers in Pittsburgh, but mainly, people stand or sit in rooms and chat. Make everyone go back to Newport and watch tennis!
Okay, but one big scene does happen this week, and my soap-opera-loving self is delighted to get into it. I am speaking, of course, of the Naked Woman in George’s Bed That He Neglected to Mention.
You can try to put yourself in the mindset of an 1880s robber baron with few principles but putting his family first, but can one ever truly identify with that if you don’t have the top-hat collection to back it up? George fucked up. Bertha discovers this at her opera tea, where Miss Turner, now the enriched Mrs. Winterton, essentially says, “Oh, George never told you about us?” Damn you, Turner. And there stands Bertha in her dress, the trim of which looks like something Fräulein Maria made after she found some old lampshades.
Bertha goes to see George in his office, where she asks him what happened between him and Turner, and it is like pulling teeth. He finally says Turner came into his room, got naked, got into bed, and when he realized it was her and not Bertha (ouch), he ordered her to leave. George didn’t tell Bertha because he — wait for it — knew Bertha “depended on her.” What?? What?? Sir! How very much dare you! Bertha is furious, obviously. George basically says “I’m sorry you feel you deserve an apology,” which is a bullshit non-apology. Bertha calls it a betrayal and storms out. Good! Correct, Bertha! This is nonsense. You are social-climbing robber barons together. This is a Gilded Age of New York partnership, and one partner doesn’t get to pull some paternalistic card when you have been in this together since day one. SINCE DAY ONE, I repeat, with no textual evidence.
Then, seemingly later that same day, George comes to Bertha’s room because he needs her help at the luncheon for the Pittsburgh union representative, and when she’s still angry at him, he says, “You’re being jejune.” JEJUNE? Do you know who uses that word? Assholes, George! And don’t tell me it was much more common at that time because I looked it up, and the answer is “kind of.” I’m surprised Bertha didn’t punch him right in his beardy face. If my wife ever said that to me, I would never let it die. “Oh, is that too jejune?” I would ask about literally everything.
After the luncheon with the union man, Mr. Henderson, George is in a kerfuffle because Henderson didn’t immediately respond to George’s offer of “how about some money.” He goes to thank Bertha, who says she’ll be dining in her room that evening. He asks how long it will be like this, and when she basically says, “I don’t know because you did a terrible thing and emotions aren’t always predictable,” George replies, “It feels like a death sentence.” It has been like HALF A DAY, MY DUDE. Good Lord. Are you serious? A death sentence? I’m imagining George as a child being administered the marshmallow test, and after five minutes, he’s going, “Omg, does this test last my whole life? Will I die in this room?” Damnit, George. He finally admits he made a mistake, but he clearly doesn’t actually think what he did was wrong. This better get fixed next week. How are they supposed to make out in the greenhouse if George is being a turd! UGH.
But what about the ill-advised Oscar Wilde cameo? First of all, it is hilarious that this show chose to make fun of bad acting, but Wilde’s play Vera does appear to have sucked. Look, everyone gets to have one bad play before they write the monologues that casting directors will have to hear thousands of times for decades to come. That being said, I highly recommend reading the Act IV exchange between Vera and the czar. It features gems like “For love of the people I would have been a patriot. For love of you I have been a traitor. Let us go forth together, we will live amongst the common people.” I will start saying that latter sentence to my wife every time we leave the house.
Whenever a period drama chooses to include a historical figure, it’s a real gamble. Before you Google it, no, apparently Wilde did not have an Irish accent at this point in time, so I have no issue with that, but featuring people from history just seems kind of … bad, and frequently feels like the writer is trying to grab your attention by going “Look! A person you’ve heard of!” It can be done well (Clara Barton last season was fun), but this Oscar Wilde is not a delight. He’s mainly like, “Oho, I see that John Adams character is a gay one.” Get it? Because Oscar Wilde was gay. Also, according to Wikipedia, so take it with a grain of salt, Wilde didn’t even have sex with a man until three years after this. Stop reducing him to this stereotype of an arch-gay man when he was really just talking about aestheticism all the time and writing boring Russian plays.
As mentioned, Peggy is going to Alabama, a terrifying prospect for her mother. Peggy is hyped, though, because she’s going to do some reporting about the Tuskegee Institute. We get a whole lot of exposition about Tuskegee from her and her editor, Timothy Thomas Fortune, who is also going. Yes, he is a historical figure, but he’s a regular guest character, so he is allowed. Fortune says, as a by-the-way, that when he last lived in Alabama, he was enslaved. “Somehow, I have to put that behind me,” he says. Um, I guess?? Or not? Peggy convinces Fortune to let her go, and when she tells Dorothy, Dorothy rightly freaks out because Peggy has never been to the South. I wish they’d also given her a line about how it’s not like the North is that amazing for Black people either, but it definitely makes sense she’d be extremely worried about her daughter going to a post-Reconstruction former slave state. Peggy’s going anyway! Hope nothing terrible happens because I think we can all agree that real life is stressful enough.
Otherwise, Marian and Dashiell are still vibing, as are Oscar, Maud, Larry, and the widow. Ada and the reverend, a.k.a. Robert Sean Leonard, bond over clam chowder, and Bertha tells George that if he gets her the Duke of Buckingham, they can talk about a reconciliation. Love an action item. Let’s hope that next week we get a ball or a croquet tournament or something and that someone gets slapped.
Things to Gossip About at Mrs. Astor’s Next Ball
• Where does Bertha Russell buy her lampshades for her lampshade dress?
• We know we’re going to blacklist that widow who’s been sleeping with Larry Russell, but can we all agree on when so we don’t awkwardly do it at separate times?
• You know, we should really give Oscar Wilde another chance at writing plays. I know we’re supposed to be gossiping, and this is more just a supportive comment, but it needed to be said.
• Can someone arrange a Cinderella-type story with the Duke of Buckingham? Because that would be fun for everyone.
