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The worlds above and below in Netflix’s “Bridgerton” literally collide in the final moments of the first half of season 4 when Benedict (Luke Thompson), the second-oldest and most bohemian brother of the esteemed Bridgerton family, passionately kisses Sophie Beck (Yerin Ha), an illegitimate maid, on the center landing of the house’s back staircase.

After four episodes of unusual longing, it seems Benedict is finally in love. “The truth is that I walk away because you consume me,” he retreats to tell Sophie while the momentum of an orchestral rendition of “bad idea, right?” by Olivia Rodrigo. increases the heat of the moment. The music fades out just as Benedict asks a question that Sophie hopes will be a romantic proposal, but turns out to be a debauched request. “Sophie,” he whispers, “be my lover.”

Immediately, the music fades, the heat cools, and Sophie leaves him on the dark staircase to return to her role below. Benedict’s unanswered question and obvious disappointment serve as a mid-season climax, and recalls his brother Colin’s (Luke Newton) post-carriage proposal midway through season 3. While Benedict’s request is of an entirely different nature, it appears to be the only realistic path forward for a cross-class couple during the Regency era. Chemistry and longing aside, a maid will never be a suitable match for a socialite.

This is the dose of reality that plagues Benedict and Sophie’s love story, and it’s a reminder that “Bridgerton” is not simply a romance. After the broadcast of the first part, the program received criticism for this fact. Some argued that recent seasons have become “ensemble dramas” that have developed a distinctive universe that has left “Bridgerton” “stuck in the matrix,” unable to satiate viewers seeking the same romantic catharsis of a true romance as “Heated Rivalry.” However, “Bridgerton” has never been a show like that. It has always strived to place a passionate romance within a broader social context that parallels aspects of the viewers’ own world.

Benedict and Sophie follow this pattern. While the romantic story of one of the brothers serves as the anchor of each season, it always exists within a larger social context and the conflict that this requires because, as Shonda Rhimes constantly reminds viewers, romance is always political. This is as true of his smash hit “Grey’s Anatomy” with its “dirty lovers’ club” as it is of the extramarital affair that fuels his presidential drama, “Scandal.” The reality of what Rhimes is doing simply becomes more apparent as the show evolves and she builds on the world Julia Quinn created in the book series.

Liam Daniel/Netflix

The first season, which aired in December 2020, captivated viewers during the COVID lockdowns with its daring and passionate on-screen sex between Daphne (Phoebe Dynevor) and Simon (Regé-Jean Page). However, even in that season, “Bridgerton” was never about a romance completely removed from reality.

One of the main conflicts in the second half of that season centers on Daphne not knowing how to get pregnant and Simon purposely keeping her in the dark. He will not “shed his seed” into her because he has promised not to continue his family’s Hastings lineage. That season was criticized for downplaying the moment when Daphne forces him inside her as anything less than rape. But the program does not shy away from this conflict or the social precariousness in which many women in high society find themselves; They are married to men without understanding the basics of their biology or their natural desire because it would be unladylike to have that knowledge.

Rhimes expands on this theme in the show’s spin-off.”queen charlotte” which, in my opinion, was even more captivating than Bridgerton due to its complexity. Highlights the sexual politics of high society to explore the roles of both marriage and monarchy and the way women’s desires are limited within both and used for political purposes.

The result of the spin-off was that when the original show returned for its second season, it had already generated empathy for its matriarchs: Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuvel), Violet (Ruth Gemmell) and Lady Danbury (Adjoa Andoh). The enemies-to-lovers story between Anthony (Jonathan Bailey) and Kate (Simone Ashley) is enriched by the show’s continued exploration of the link between social duty and personal desire. The program further built on this theme in Season 3 When the main friction is not whether Penelope and Colin will be together, but how she will balance the desire to have a relationship. ring on the finger and a pen in the hand.

In other words, are you willing to make the sacrifices that the realities of marriage demand?

The second part of the fourth season puts this issue in the spotlight. While there is romance and sex, that is not the focus. It’s clear that Benedict and Sophie are a Cinderella story with chemistry. It’s clear that the most debauched of the Bridgerton brothers has finally gotten his feelings across. It’s clear that she loves him as much as he loves her. Rather, the tension is whether or not both of you can live with the reality of what it will mean to be together.

Can she trust herself enough to be his lover and live in his cabin? Will he really be okay with a life completely separated from society and its entertainments? And, most importantly, how might his decision affect the marriage prospects of Benedict’s unmarried siblings or the lives of the children who might result from all the sex he wants to have with Sophie?

Liam Daniel/Netflix

To explore these questions, “Bridgerton” adds context through its relationship subplots. Violet has finally found someone to tend her garden, but she’s not sure she wants the commitment necessary to make that “gardener” permanent. Francesca faces the reality that not everyone gets a happy ending and that some couples’ endings come too soon.

In addition to these relevant storylines that bring grief to the forefront of the show in a way that will shape Benedict and Sophie’s future, there are also non-romantic subplots about the queen, Lady Danbury, Penelope, Eloise, Hyacinth, and Gregory. These less relevant subplots highlight the risk that Rhimes’ shows always take. The longer shows go on, the more stagnant they can feel because there is less room for the romantic arc that has traditionally anchored the narrative. With “Bridgerton,” this risk is keenly felt due to the structure of each season focusing on a Bridgerton sibling falling in love.

There is a romantic notion in world-building that viewers develop their own relationship with the universe created on screen, and this fosters loyalty to the characters and the larger story being weaved. However, when viewers come to your story to experience the vicarious spark of two people who can’t help but desire each other, subplots can put out too much of the fire of that attraction.

So can “Bridgerton” find a balance between its romantic roots and its unique world? And how long will viewers give the show the grace to work this out if they increasingly want the heat of a show like “Heated Rivalry”? Only more seasons will tell and, one thing is certain, “Bridgerton” will return for a fifth season to test these questions.

“Bridgerton” is streaming on Netflix.