(Warning: Spoilers ahead.)
That is why you always look both ways before stepping off the curb—even in 1884.
Divorce is a specter looming over The Gilded Age’s excellent third season, but it is a horse and carriage that proves to be the most significant danger so far. Or at least it is for Oscar Van Rhijn’s (Blake Ritson) ex-boyfriend and recent champion, John Adams (Claybourne Elder).
It is far from the first time The Gilded Age’s co-creator Julian Fellowes has dispatched a character with a freak accident. Just ask Downton Abbey viewers who are still mourning the loss of Matthew Crawley (Dan Stevens) more than a decade after the fan-favorite died in a car crash.
Fellowes is happy to swing the melodramatic ax once more. Rather than repeating that set up, John is an unsuspecting pedestrian waving farewell when a horse—and/or the carriage wheel—hits him at speed. While John is not a main character, the juxtaposition between the sweet interaction with Oscar and the unexpected nature of this tragedy ensures it is a jaw-dropping end to this week’s jam-packed episode.
Director Deborah Kampmeier turns the camera mere seconds before the horse and carriage knock John from his feet in a way that is reminiscent of Final Destination (no, really). It is fair to assume he is dead. Okay, Regina George survived something similar in Mean Girls, but even if John doesn’t die immediately, emergency medicine is still in its infancy, and the chances of him getting up are slim.
Even with this visual cue hinting something bad is about to happen—and knowing Fellowes’ fondness for killing off love interests—I still let out a loud gasp the moment John flew through the air amid crates of apples. The look of shock on Oscar’s face matches my own. I have watched this scene multiple times, and the combination of John turning his back to the oncoming traffic and another horse and cart turning around leads to catastrophe.
Everything up to this point was as it always is between the two men, other than Oscar opting to bare his soul as they say goodbye: “You are my savior. I thank you with all my heart.” It is another example of intimacy in a public space, with Oscar stripping away his usual sardonic tone for a rare display of sincerity. The next thing that happens is a valuable PSA about the dangers of New York traffic in any era.
Factoring in Oscar’s poignant farewell makes it likelier that the Grim Reaper has once more come knocking on the door of the Forte-Van Rhijn residence. Last season, Oscar’s Aunt Ada (Cynthia Nixon) lost her husband to cancer after a short marriage; it is a house accustomed to mourning. Still, the closeted Oscar won’t get to play the weeping partner dressed in black because the depth of his relationship with John is a closely guarded secret. Even the c---y sunglasses he wears whenever he is plotting won’t do much to cover his tears due to their small size.
Oscar might ask what he has done to deserve heartbreak on the same day he acted selflessly (maybe for the first time) toward the woman who upended his life. Since we first met Oscar, his long-term goal has been to land a wealthy bride to bolster his old-money chest. When the beautiful heiress Maud Beaton (Nicole Brydon Bloom) came into his life last season, it seemed too good to be true. Of course, it was all part of a long con to ensnare greedy men wanting a bigger piece of the railway pie. Oscar lost everything, and his mother, Agnes (Christine Baranski), constantly reminds him how much he f---ed up.
Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth is a matter of pride for Oscar, who wears his wealth with as much ease as the sunglasses he favors. Hard work is not something he relished when Ada refused to give him an allowance, but it is John who got him back on his feet by investing in him. While the two didn’t sleep together again, tenderness flowed both ways. Whether or not they would have found their way back into each other’s beds remains unclear, but the love runs deep.
John’s wallet isn’t the only thing having an impact; his kindness is rubbing off on Oscar. Instead of letting Maud rot at the hands of more terrible men, Oscar gives her money and a train ticket to freedom. Ritson is equally at home playing Oscar’s rare compassion as he is serving dry humor. But how much will this loss see him reverting to a spiky demeanor?
Before the accident, Oscar continues to fire off witty, droll observations, but he isn’t the devilish gay villain of the first season who could twirl his mustache if he wanted to. His relationship with John ended when Oscar upped his quest for a wealthy wife, and John wanted to live as openly as a gay man could in the 1880s.
Oscar even teamed up with Bertha’s (Carrie Coon) then-lady’s maid, Turner (Kelley Curran), to aid his quest to marry a rich heiress. Now, Turner’s wealthy husband is dying, leaving a vacancy for Oscar. How I long to see them back together, scheming in the park.
Still, it is notable that John has always been as comfortable in his skin as someone in his position could be in 1884, making this conclusion even sadder.
In its third season, The Gilded Age has found its stakes, swinging between extremes of silly and substantial plotting. Perhaps Oscar will nurse John back to health in the same way as John nursed Oscar’s work life back to health. That feels like even more of a fantasy. Instead, John’s accident is a cautionary tale; a reminder of how quickly circumstances can change and to never turn your back when there is oncoming traffic.
