Bridgerton (Season 4) Review

The end of the 19th century. A story that never was. A monarch who fell in love with a commoner from afar.

Queen Charlotte of Great Britain is an eccentric dark-skinned woman who loves hosting social events, pairing young aristocrats with each other in sacred marriage bonds, and gossiping about the latest rumors from a regular anonymous column penned by a certain "Lady Whistledown."

The noble Bridgerton family, led by the dignified widow Violet and her brood of young talents, holds a special place in the queen's affections. In previous seasons, our dear reader learned about the fates of the older Bridgertons, Daphne and Anthony (and also uncovered the secret of the talented Penelope Featherington). This time, we follow the second son of Mrs. Bridgerton, Benedict, who has long sworn off seeking a romantic partner, preferring a glass of wine and the dim atmosphere of clubs to serious relationships.

But even his heart is not flawless.

And one day, at his mother's costume ball, the bewildered rake meets the one who will immediately capture his attention. The mysterious lady in a silver mask is indifferent to his name or his social standing... and the stranger's attention will become all the more valuable. But when she disappears, leaving only a vague memory of watchful eyes and lips that never received the first kiss... then, my dear reader, we will finally discover what a union between two souls—hardly meant to be together—can achieve.

A fantastic season of a beautiful show. I didn’t write reviews for the continuations of the first season, and that was a huge mistake.

From a distance, it is clear that "Bridgerton" is not just a sugary and expensive costume drama for girls, stylized as a historical series with elements of modernity and symphonic covers of Billie Eilish. No, it is a full-fledged, large-scale family saga, albeit set in a loose historical context. Behind its deceptively light and occasionally ironic tone lie serious, moving themes.

Big things are seen from a distance—and "Bridgerton" reaches its peak right here, in the fourth season. It’s almost an epic: instead of grand tales of mighty conquests, we have a constantly evolving story of conflicts, personal growth... and of course, love.

Love is above all.

It is the force that binds together scattered parts, preventing them from falling apart. It is also the center of the Bridgerton family itself. Here, there is the all-encompassing, controlling care of Mrs. Violet—who knows she can be a bit overbearing, but listens to her children, is willing to change, and genuinely wants to ensure their well-being. And the close, taciturn, and trusting relationship between the queen and her former lady-in-waiting, the wise and perceptive Lady Danbury, who is tired of being the Empress’s only confidante. Love—for children, loved ones, dear people—is the only constant, balancing everything and giving hope for the impossible.

The main story this time is built on a well-known trope. Other reviewers have repeatedly mentioned the tale of the poor girl, the evil stepmother, and two unattractive sisters, as well as the ball, fairy godmother, and carriage that will inevitably turn into a pumpkin. The resemblance is indeed strong, but here the focus is more on the vulnerable position of a young woman and issues of abuse, so one could say this is more of an attempt to depict the essence of the archetype as it would have looked in real 1820s England, with all the beauties of privileged society’s pressures and selective justice. So, while it bears some resemblance to Charles Perrault’s fairy tale, it is more in terms of shared motifs.

The main characters of this season are a young artist, romantic and rake, a favorite of both women and men, Benedict Bridgerton, and a girl of Eastern origin named Sophie Beck. Benedict is a somewhat lost young man. A convinced bachelor and free-thinker, he has long resigned himself to the role of the “second son,” who has no say in anything and is never taken seriously. Sophie, on the other hand, is strong-willed, reserved, intelligent (I’ll emphasize this separately—you’ll understand once you’ve watched more than one episode), strong, and knows her worth. She has been through hell to get to where she is now—but she still needs something she can never have in order to live the life she deserves...

And yet, there is much they have in common. Both are outcasts of sorts, hiding their true feelings and living for the moment, because dreams are impossible to realize anyway. Perhaps their sinful connection is not so hopeless, and a shared future is still possible?

What I liked: the characters are in constant motion. Every character has their own conflict, motivation, and goal. There is not a single unnecessary scene in the context of the story, and each character develops in some way. Not all arcs will be brought to a satisfying conclusion, but that’s a forgivable flaw: we’re only halfway through the journey—the show is planned to have up to eight seasons, matching the number of original books by Julia Quinn.

Not all of their storylines are adapted exactly as in the source: the fourth book (about the wonderful Penelope) became the third season, and the third novel is now being adapted, with one of the darkest and heaviest moments from the noble family’s history happening MUCH earlier—and truly shocking.

So, prepare your tissues and stay alert: a romantic fairy tale about two people from almost unrelated worlds will hurt when you least expect it.

It’s worth noting something interesting: "Bridgerton" is the most traditional and modern thing at the same time. It combines a very traditional and patriarchal message (“marriage is the highest happiness,” “love each other,” “honey bunny…”) with themes of self-care, healthy relationships, boundary protection, and so on. Through traditional morals and a wholesome perspective (as well as an abundance of bedroom scenes), it brings forth an eternal formula in a fresh way that can reconcile generations of viewers.

Also: the English language here is beautiful. You must watch it with subtitles (or without, if you're confident enough), as no dubbing, especially not a voiceover, will adapt all those old-fashioned sentence structures and pure British accents, even among the least British-looking characters. It’s truly the language of 19th-century high society, albeit slightly modernized and simplified. A pure delight.

Technically, everything is still flawlessly shot. Good lighting, adequate direction, excellent cinematography. The editing is a bit shaky (sometimes noticeable cuts), but that's the only nitpick.

The sets are as fantastic as ever, the costumes and outfits (and Her Majesty’s crazy hairstyles—different in every scene!) are above all praise. "Bridgerton" is escapism at its highest level. You immediately lose yourself in all the luxury of interiors, adorned with flowers, banquettes, frills, and other attributes of a completely different life. Especially when an important plot scene begins, or another (or obligatory—depends on how you look at it, as one grand ball every two episodes is necessary!) beautifully planned and thoughtful ball, and the actions of the characters are highlighted by a symphonic arrangement of a vaguely familiar song. A minute later, you realize that the noble gentlemen and ladies are gracefully dancing to Taylor Swift.

If this isn’t magic, I don’t know what is.

Rating: 8.2/10. And once again, in the noble house, there’s excitement and commotion... whose heart will be struck by Cupid’s arrow in the new season? I believe, dear reader, you will find out in advance, for nothing pleases the esteemed public more than fresh gossip from the city’s tongues, courtesy of your humble Lady Whistledown.