The Gilded Age Season 3 (2025) Parents Guide

The Gilded Age is rated TV-MA for mature themes, including power struggles, social manipulation, implied intimacy, and emotionally intense relationships.

The Gilded Age Season 3 Review:

The Gilded Age has never been a show that was unaware of its good bones, it just took a few seasons to find the right way to strut in its own corset. It was a lovely, and yet stiff as a corset history lesson when the first season aired in 2022, with too many characters and a self-seriousness that drained all the fun out of its lace-decorated world. Season 2 was a bit more relaxed, playing into the operatic, soapy ridiculousness of the upper classes squabbling over actual opera houses.

However, this time in Season 3, something incredible has occurred: the show has finally discovered what it is. And what is even better? It is enjoying every moment of it.

It is a lavish treat of a show-a full-on period drama soap opera with as much drama, style, and family feuds as you could want. It is silly, sloppy, theatrical and perfectly unhinged. It still has the parade of jaws-dropping gowns and historical name-drops, of course, but now those period trappings are like frosting on a cake instead of a crusty old museum display.

The Story & What It Tries to Say

The story picks up right where we left off. Bertha Russell (Carrie Coon), newly crowned queen of the Metropolitan Opera, is riding high on her social victory. But of course, Bertha being Bertha, she’s already hunting for her next conquest: marrying her daughter Gladys (Taissa Farmiga) off to the Duke of Buckingham. It’s peak Gilded Age ambition—a brash new-money American trying to force her way into old-world nobility. And if you’ve seen Downton Abbey, The Buccaneers, or literally any Julian Fellowes show before, you know exactly how this game works.

Gladys, naturally, wants to marry for love (bless her heart), but her mother is steamrolling full speed ahead with her plans. Meanwhile, George Russell (Morgan Spector), perhaps the most sympathetic railroad tycoon in TV history, is off brokering deals in Arizona and popping in now and then to argue with Bertha in ways that make you realize just how deeply compelling their marriage has become.

Their strained yet loving relationship adds emotional weight to the show that it previously lacked in its earlier seasons.

Across the street, Agnes van Rhijn (the ever-glorious Christine Baranski) is struggling to make sense of a world that is slipping out of her grasp. Her sister Ada (Cynthia Nixon) now controls the purse strings, and Agnes is no longer the boss in her own house, which she does not love.

It is a more subdued arc, yet Baranski extracts every last drop of dry humor and suppressed anger. Ada, in the meantime, is adrift–mourning, flirting with temperance movements and spiritualism, and generally attempting to locate herself in the wake of her brief marriage.

The series also provides Peggy Scott (Denee Benton) with something she long deserved: a storyline with emotional depth that does not feel like it belongs in a PSA. Her love story with the dashing Dr. Kirkland (Jordan Donica) is a breath of fresh air, with genuine chemistry and warmth. The plot remains a bit disjointed with the rest of the series, but with Audra McDonald and Phylicia Rashad going at it in high-society Black Newport, you can hardly complain.

What The Gilded Age ultimately realizes is this: it does not need to be a history lesson. It is melodrama. An extravagant, character-based melodrama of money, power, love, and position-and when it embraces these things, it glows.

Performances & Characters

Carrie Coon continues to be the show’s secret weapon. Her Bertha is part villain, part visionary, part momzilla—never quite evil, but always scheming. This season gives her even more room to be ruthless, and Coon leans in with relish. She’s domineering without being cartoonish, and her scenes with Farmiga’s soft-spoken Gladys are brimming with quiet desperation beneath the luxury.

Morgan Spector, as George, continues to bring surprising nuance to a character who could easily be a one-note capitalist cliché. His love for his family—and his concern over Bertha’s more aggressive tactics—grounds the show emotionally. And then there’s Harry Richardson as Larry, who somehow makes pining for Marian feel both sweet and a little sad, considering her long trail of romantic misfires.

Over at the van Rhijn household, Christine Baranski is still the reigning queen of deadpan cruelty, delivering biting lines with the weariness of someone constantly surrounded by fools. Cynthia Nixon plays Ada’s evolution with vulnerability and grace, and it’s a welcome shift for a character who’s often been sidelined.

And then there’s Denée Benton, finally getting a proper romantic arc with Jordan Donica’s charming doctor. It’s romantic, it’s swoony, and it lets Benton do more than deliver exposition. Watching Rashad and McDonald play clashing matriarchs? That’s Emmy bait, plain and simple.

Direction, Visuals & Pacing

Director Michael Engler and the creative team haven’t changed much in terms of visual style—it’s still lush and grand and absolutely drowning in gilded excess. But that’s the whole appeal. The costumes are just as jaw-dropping as ever (honestly, half the fun is just watching what Bertha wears next), and the lavish interiors are so rich you can practically smell the furniture polish.

What has changed, thankfully, is the pacing. Season 3 trims the fat, ditches extraneous characters and storylines, and focuses on what actually matters: relationships, ambition, betrayal, and power plays. Sure, George’s railroad subplot is still a bit of a slog (and the rogue’s gallery of interchangeable bearded businessmen doesn’t help), but those segments are shorter now, and the show’s stronger for it.

Even the “downstairs” storylines—long a weak spot in the series—have been reduced. Fellowes just can’t seem to let go of his Downton Abbey instincts, but at least The Gilded Age now knows the real drama lives upstairs.

The Gilded Age Season 3 (2025) Parents Guide

Language: If you’re hoping to worry about profanity, rest easy. You won’t hear any flair for curses here—it’s more about classy, cutting remarks. Think diplomatic snipes, polite put‑downs, and the kind of verbal sparring that’s refined… until it stings. Violent expletives? Not part of this world—but emotional stingers are front and center.

Sexual Content & Intimacy: Expect romance and tension, not risqué displays. There’s kissing—some steamy glances—and quite a bit of emotional manipulation wrapped up in the romances. But you won’t find graphic love scenes or nudity (sorry, HBO fans—shirtless glimpses don’t earn much screen time here) The show leans hard on emotional entanglement over physical sensationalism.

Substance Use & Mood: Alcohol is everywhere—champagne at parties, whiskey after tense dinners—and smoking is casually present too. But none of it becomes an issue; no misguided portrayal of alcohol abuse, no drug escapades. It’s part of the ambiance, not a cautionary tale.

Violence & Intensity: Season 3 injects a bit more grit and physical danger than earlier chapters—yes, there are a few serious incidents—but it’s not a gore-fest . The violence is sudden, jarring, and rare—but powerful enough to remind you this lush world can still be harsh.

Conclusions & Recommendation:

The Gilded Age Season 3 is the season in which everything comes into place. The show has given up on being serious and has just accepted the high drama, the lavish spectacle and the delicious scandal that has been its true selling point all along.

It is not flawless yet, as there are too many characters and some of the storylines are still dead weight but it is the most confident, compelling and outright fun the series has ever been.

In case you dropped the show after Season 1, then it is time to give it a second chance. Season 3 is your payoff, though, if you have persisted to this point: a champagne-drenched soap opera with a modicum of bite to keep it interesting.

Highly Recommended: