Hear me out.
I’m a huge fan of the Bridgertons. And when I say that I’m not just talking about the binge-able Netflix series. Julia Quinn is my go-to romance girl, and I’m one of those snobs who will talk your ear off about the Smythe-Smiths if given the opportunity to talk Bridgerton books. One reason Quinn is great is because she’s fun and clever as a romance author, both from a plot and general writing standpoint, but the other reason her books really resonate with me has to do with the fact she’s exactly what I’m looking for in a romance author from a reader’s advisory standpoint. That is to say, I enjoy the amount of sex and the particular way she combines sex with romance in her books.
Anyone who has ever read an Avon historical romance knows they have different bents when it comes to sexy time. Some authors like to build up with some fooling around to one exciting sequence at the end of the book that goes on for pages and pages of very descriptive pleasure. Others are more puritanical, include a wait for marriage, and don’t really get into detail once the bedroom door is open for business. Still others pepper in premarital sex and set up heroines who feel contemporary in their sexual pursuits despite the corset confines of their environment, which is the Bridgerton way.
Or at least has been the Bridgerton way in the books. I’m here to declare that Bridgeton has really dropped the ball in Season 3. Frankly, it’s just not horny enough for its core audience anymore.
Why I Think Bridgerton Isn’t Going For Intense Pleasure Enough
In general, the show might as well be a YA novel for all the intimate scenes we’re getting. In fact, for much of Season 3, Benedict joining a threesome and exploring his sexuality was his main freaking plotline, which should be right on point for a show of this ilk. Yet, when it finally came to getting him into bed for a threesome, what did we get? Some light, polite making out between three people. Where were the sparks, the dirty bits?
The majority of Season 3 is about Colin and Penelope, though this isn’t about Nicola Couglan or Luke Newton’s performances. I want to make that clear, because their lovemaking sequence in which she really takes inventory of her body nude from the waist up in the mirror is compelling TV, and it’s done quite prettily.
The only problem is that it’s way less titillating than in the books, when Colin tells Penelope he wants to “crawl behind her and cup her” and “do it in front of a mirror” before going to town on her breasts. The moment depicted in the show in which Colin mentions sleeping together may “hurt” is also epically romantic when penned by Quinn in a way the Netflix series didn’t come close to covering, and I believe it’s because the scene as written simply lacks the buildup and the need and desire between the characters in the books.
Intimacy really serves the story in fiction in a way we just haven’t gotten on the show since Season 1. This is notable once again when we get a tacked on and very much lacking in nudity scene near the end of Season 3, which (assumedly) results in Penelope having a baby. It’s perfunctorily written at best.
Compare that scene to any one of many we devoured between Regé-Jean Page and Phoebe Dynevor in Season 1 and the whole thing feels wholesome and puritanical. In fact, it feels like a completely different show than the one I thought I was signing up for.
What Could Be Going On?
This could be a case where the streamer found those with a Netflix subscription would be more willing to watch Bridgerton if the sex were toned down, despite Netflix being known for sexually explicit content elsewhere. Or it could be a situation where the main cast members have worked rules into their contracts about how much nudity to show, as Emilia Clarke added a no-nudity clause on Game Of Thrones (before ditching it) as the show wore on.
I personally feel that since Queen Charlotte was released, the drama has felt like it’s trying to be more of a “serious” show than a lighthearted one. If that’s the case, it may be trying to shed the image of being a historical romance adaptation, since genre fiction often gets a bad rap. So, I’m here to declare there is absolutely nothing wrong with having good writing plus a fun, seductive bent to a show.
Because of the changes, I do feel the show has suffered. The good news is there was enough sexual tension in Season 2 between Kate and Anthony that the lack of intense sexual romps were less noticeable (though there were complaints), but the only tension this season had to do with Luke being angry with Penelope over the Whistledown secret. In fact, Penelope and Luke’s rushed plot left less room to see them as viable romantic partners and it erroneously assumed the audience cared more about Lady Whistledown being unveiled than it did about the characters developing intimately. It’s not the angle in I wanted at all.
So what though? Benedict’s journey has been intriguing right? Well, again, I practically yawned my way through his sex scenes, one of which is drawn out over two episodes –with nothing really happening – and doesn’t even align with the timeline of what’s going on with the rest of the cast. And Francesca and John’s relationship has been basically asexual, although that at least makes all the sense in the world, given the LGBTQ+ storyline Bridgerton is building toward in future seasons.
Look, if you are going to adapt one of the most popular bodice rippers, you should do it right. Instead we’re getting a PG-13 fan-fiction version of some of the best historical romances written in the contemporary era. Season 3 is hardly sexy, and that’s a problem.