![]() ![]() But you rarely find a rapist without excuses – the current horrifyingly low prosecution rate (about 3% of all accusations make it to court, down 40% in three years) should be enough to make that clear. None of these details are intended to excuse Daphne or to cast what happens as anything other than assault. There is also the fact that Simon never bothered to make clear to Daphne that his aversion to procreation was a conscious choice, not a physical impairment, and that sexually he is by far the more experienced of the two. This victim is not a helpless virgin – he’s a six-foot hunk of virility who has spent the last 60 minutes of screen time loudly enjoying sex with his attacker. This attacker is not a masked man in a dark alley – she’s the vulnerable young woman in whom the viewer has already made an emotional investment. Chris Van Dusen, who adapted Julia Quinn’s novels into Bridgerton, deserves some credit for resisting such absurd clarity. We all wish rape followed the clean contours of ethical absolutism, of good versus evil, of victims and villains, but that is rarely reality. “Consent issues in general, and rape in particular shouldn’t be plot points – and they especially shouldn’t when they aren’t going to be dealt with at all” was one viewer’s assessment.īut perhaps part of the reason the characters’ minimisation of the assault makes for such uncomfortable viewing is that it mirrors back to us an unpleasant contemporary reality. ![]() The moment is immediately airbrushed out of the narrative: Daphne accepts no responsibility, Simon makes only the briefest accusation, and they remain the romantic and sexual ideal of the show. Some have focused their criticism not on the show’s decision to tackle female sexual assault but on how it chose to do so. While it seems unlikely that the diminutive bride could have physically forced her husband into anything, Simon’s obvious distress and cries of “Wait!” constitute a clear withdrawal of consent. When Daphne wises up to the strategy, she chooses a position that puts her in control and the act is completed as she intends. The assault is strange and specific: traumatised by a loveless childhood, Simon is insistent that he “cannot” have children and so – regency birth control presumably not extending to a friendly Boots pharmacist – insists on the pull-out method during sex with his new bride. Viewers have responded with confusion and distress to a scene in which horny heroine Daphne (played by Phoebe Dynevor) appears to rape her new husband Simon (Regé-Jean Page) by coercing him into finishing inside her. For anyone serious enough about self-care to respond to a Covid Christmas by inhaling a family-sized Celebrations tin and then Bridgerton – the absurd, addictive, candy-coloured regency romance series that dropped on Netflix on Christmas Day – the end of episode six brought a nasty surprise.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |