![]() So you’d think we’d have plenty to say about the second series … except, well, here’s the thing. We also interviewed Hallie Rubenhold, whose first book, Harris’ List of Covent Garden Ladies: Sex in the City in Georgian Britain, was the real-life source material for some of the fictional Harlots setting. ![]() We did write several articles about the first season, discussing the hairstyles, the recycled costumes, some weird costumes, and the historically accurate treatment of race in Georgian London. Ignoring them, like almost all period dramas do, would just be erasing history.People keep asking us to review the second season of Harlots (2018), which premiered on Hulu over the summer and has been renewed for a third season. ![]() It just shows that people like them existed, which is all they need to do to be worthy of portrayal. Harlots never pretends that its characters’ lives are easy – they’re still at the mercy of a legal system that wasn’t designed for them. Sapani in particular ( pictured above) is a great grounding presence, making sure the show doesn’t run away with its own cleverness. Morton and Sapani are the beating heart of the whole thing – they convey so much with their faces that they hardly need words, beautifully delivered though they are. The dialogue is mostly sublime (“You’re a brave slut, Emily Lacey”), occasionally ridiculous (“You killed a superior in class?”), and always entertaining. Harlots never feels overwhelming in its richly-peopled world it’s one of those rare shows that’s equally good whether you dip in and out or watch religiously. It’s a tribute to Buffini and Newman, and the uniformly strong cast, that they can keep all of the plates in the air. Here be murderous nobles, miscarriages of justice, and more three-dimensional characters than you can shake an eighteenth-century condom at. Charlotte’s taken over the family business and new entrepreneurs of the flesh are circling like vultures. Series Three picks up a year later, and things aren’t looking much better for either of them. The climax of Series Two saw both bawds the worse for wear: Quigley shut up in Bedlam and Margaret bound for the colonies, having narrowly avoided the noose. Margaret and her partner Will (Danny Sapani, consistently excellent) are the proprietors of a brothel in Greek Street, and Margaret’s feud with Quigley runs up a body count in more ways than one. You can’t really blame her: Quigley bought a ten-year-old Margaret from her mother for a pair of shoes, as Margaret constantly reminds her two daughters, Charlotte (Jessica Brown Findlay, giving her best cockney accent) and Lucy (Eloise Smyth). ![]() Margaret is our tragic hero, her fatal flaw her obsession with Mrs Quigley. ![]() Coincidentally, all the episodes are directed by women. Whole scenes go by without a peep from a male character. It doesn’t so much pass the Bechdel test as crash out of the reverse Bechdel test spectacularly. Instead, this is a nuanced portrayal of life in Georgian London for those who don’t fit in, whether by dint of skin colour, gender, or financial situation. The rate of heaving bosoms per episode is almost as high as the breeches, but the first series made it clear it wasn’t going to waste time on the well-trodden period path of the many-varied sufferings of rich white men. Harlots, created by Moira Buffini and Alison Newman, is billed as a bodice-ripping yarn about the rivalry between arch-bawds Margaret Wells (Samantha Morton) and Lydia Quigley (Lesley Manville, pictured below), and it certainly lives up to the label: nary a bodice survives intact. The third series, showing weekly on Wednesdays on BBC Two and available in its entirety on iPlayer, is less easily related to 2020, but it’s still a rollicking ride. ![]()
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