I said - at least I think I said - back when I reviewed The Crown a few months ago that it was sliding right in as a Downton Abbey replacement for people who loved themselves some noble British melodrama. I wasn't wrong, but now we've got an even better Downton Abbey replacement in Victoria, which aired Sunday nights on PBS from January through early March after debuting in the UK last year to - wait a second, this absolutely is the Downton Abbey heir apparent.
This one's about the young Queen Victoria, which places it somewhere in the 1830s or '40s. It's such easy bubblegum viewing, the conflicts pitting a headstrong young queen against a one-dimensionally villainous old patriarchy, mostly embodied by a bitter old uncle figure who feels like he was passed over for the monarchy even though the law's as clear as day and has been for centuries when it comes to British heredity. Vicki marries her first cousin, and it's NBD, even though his name is Prince Albert (tee-hee). She rides horses and throws parties and goes dancing and thinks late-term pregnancy is just so goddamn boring. Even when she survives an assassination attempt, she's not all "Mr. Bates is a murderer" about it; she just breathes a little heavily for a little while and then wishes everyone would get over it already. What a gal! And she has the cutest little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, too!
But seriously, this is take-it-or-leave-it viewing at its finest, a show that knows exactly what it is so far and doesn't strive to be anything else. The Crown takes itself far more seriously, which means it's got a higher ceiling but a much bigger fall should it stumble; Victoria is - so far at least - Downton Abbey at its happiest, maybe without all the sass. Like imagine if Lady Mary had Lady Ethel's attitude. Scratch that. Just imagine Lady Sybil. Swoon.
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