Flashback Feuds in Rivals: 80s England Has Never Been So Addictive (Review)

Flashback Feuds in Rivals: 80s England Has Never Been So Addictive (Review)

In Disney+’s high-energy dive into the 80s, "Rivals" brings back all the glamor, grit, and larger-than-life drama we’ve been nostalgic for, served with a side of unapologetic hedonism. This isn’t just a TV series—it’s a revival of 80s indulgence where power meets privilege, and nobility squares off with the nouveau riche. Whether it’s champagne at brunch or a drag-you-through-the-mud TV feud, “Rivals” is here to remind us why that era, with its shoulder pads and swagger, was the height of TV-worthy spectacle. Ready to revel in the retro?

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Reintroducing the Bonkbuster: Rivals Revives Jilly Cooper’s Classic

The 80s were, let’s face it, a decade of excess—from oversized blazers to unapologetically teased hair, an era when television channels were multiplying like gremlins and social stratification was worn with pride. In Rivals, we return to that era, where England’s green countryside serves as the backdrop for high society’s battles of wit, sex, and societal hierarchy. Set in a fictional Cotswold county, Rutshire, Rivals paints a picture of England’s upper echelons with such fervor and flair that viewers feel they’re right there, sipping champagne at a late-night party, or perhaps eavesdropping as Rupert Campbell-Black, the ultimate playboy, plots his next victory.

For fans of 80s nostalgia, Rivals takes careful steps to ensure each scene is a love letter to the era’s most iconic markers. The lush countryside juxtaposed with ambitious new commercial ventures, the big hair, even bigger egos, and smoking cigars indoors—all are playfully presented without apology. The landscape alone feels imbued with memories of Thatcher’s Britain: a place of ruthless competition and conservative values clashing against the flamboyant tastes of the time. There’s even a sense that the 80s love affair with melodrama and camp thrives here, making Rivals a true time capsule that captures not only an era but also the thrill of simply being unapologetically… extra.

The Bonkbuster Genre: Sex, Power, and Drama

The bonkbuster genre—the English answer to America’s scandalous soap operas and sultry bestsellers—embraced and amplified the grit and glamour of the times. But what makes a bonkbuster so uniquely magnetic? Simple: it goes all in on the desires, dramas, and downright decadent lives of its characters, capturing a world where passion takes precedence over prudence, and power plays out in bedrooms and boardrooms alike. This genre doesn’t shy away from the “bonk” part, either; it revels in it, making each flirtation and fling an event worth savoring. Cooper’s novel was both a product and celebration of this genre—a pulpy, juicy feast that unapologetically explored power dynamics, lust, and betrayal, with each page practically sizzling with its next scandalous development.

Rivals brings that same raw energy to life onscreen, throwing its characters into the mess and madness of what the 80s stood for. In the world of Rutshire, no one is simply “good” or “bad”—they’re all beautifully complicated, shaped by their social status, personal ambitions, and often scandalous tastes. Here, Cooper’s characters aren’t afraid to pursue their desires, nor do they hold back their judgments on others’ choices. In a humorous exchange between Rupert Campbell-Black and his rival Lord Tony Baddingham, Rupert mockingly sneers, “Well, Tony, it seems even old money runs dry sometimes.” Baddingham, nonplussed, raises his cigar and retorts, “Perhaps, but we still know how to choose our friends wisely.” This dialogue is classic bonkbuster—a sharp, flirtatious jab that manages to reveal more about these two men than a monologue ever could.

Modern Adaptation with a Contemporary Skew

But can an 80s bonkbuster survive the lens of 2024 without feeling like an outdated relic? Rivals cleverly adapts to modern tastes without losing its original essence, blending the charm of old with the skepticism of new. There’s a freshness in the way it handles themes of feminism, class, and social change, bringing depth to the archetypes that Cooper popularized. Cameron Cook, an American producer brought in by Lord Baddingham, adds a powerful and necessary contemporary perspective on the world of Rutshire’s elite. Played with an understated strength by Nafessa Williams, Cameron challenges the casual racism and misogynoir of the time, and in one memorable moment, she points out to Rupert: “You think this all just came to you? Not everyone has the luxury of ignoring where they came from.”

This added nuance makes Rivals a reflection of both the past and present, capturing a time when indulgence was king yet updating it for an audience that won’t turn a blind eye to casual bigotry or sexism. The humor remains deliciously sharp, but there’s also an acknowledgment that the world has moved on, even if Rutshire’s nobility hasn’t entirely caught up. Rivals isn’t just a story about the Cotswold elite—it’s a reminder that the bonkbuster genre, with all its guilty pleasures, can be reborn for modern audiences in a way that embraces the nostalgia without abandoning what today’s viewers demand from a good story.

A Stellar Ensemble: Diving into the Cast of Rivals

Alex Hassell as Rupert Campbell-Black: The Aristocratic Playboy

Rupert Campbell-Black, portrayed by the charismatic Alex Hassell, is the classic aristocratic playboy who wears privilege like a second skin. Rupert doesn’t simply walk into a room; he dominates it with his presence, leaving a trail of captivated onlookers in his wake. Hassell brings a playful arrogance to the role that’s endearing even when it’s outrageous, balancing Rupert’s charm with a dangerous edge. Watching him, you feel the magnetic pull of a man who knows his every word is an event. “Power isn’t taken,” Rupert quips with a glint in his eye. “It’s given by those who think they’ve no choice.” Hassell’s Rupert doesn’t just live by this line; he embodies it.

David Tennant’s Lord Tony Baddingham: Old Money vs. New Money

Then we have David Tennant as Lord Tony Baddingham, the old-money mogul whose very existence bristles with an air of entitlement. Tennant’s performance is laced with sharp wit, a seemingly calm demeanor masking the storm of competitiveness lurking underneath. His Tony is as cutthroat as Rupert, but his tactics are subtler, preferring the long game over quick wins. When confronted by Rupert’s flashy moves, Baddingham smirks, saying, “The thing about old money, dear Rupert, is we never need to flaunt it.” Tennant’s portrayal here is gold, bringing an almost Shakespearean quality to a character embroiled in 80s feuds with all the deadpan disdain only old money can muster.

Aidan Turner’s Declan O’Hara: The Ambitious Irish Newsman

Aidan Turner’s Declan O’Hara, the ambitious Irishman who enters the fray at Corinium television, is a refreshing wildcard. Declan has the scrappy energy of a man used to clawing his way to the top, a newsman who understands both the power of persuasion and the importance of grit. Turner’s Declan is sharp, charming, and painfully aware of the uphill battle he faces amid the aristocratic elite. When Declan tells his actress wife, Maud, “We didn’t come all this way to stay quiet, love,” there’s an unmistakable fire in his eyes that reveals Turner’s ability to balance Declan’s ambition with vulnerability. Turner infuses Declan with a mix of integrity and a burning desire to prove himself—a dangerous combination in Rutshire’s world of ruthless ambition.

Supporting Stars: Katherine Parkinson, Nafessa Williams, and More

The supporting cast of Rivals is an ensemble that deserves its own round of applause. Katherine Parkinson brings a delightful mix of neurotic wit and raw honesty to Lizzie Vereker, whose insecurity and social missteps make her a character viewers can’t help but root for. Her portrayal of Lizzie isn’t just about comic relief; it’s a fully fleshed-out look at a woman caught between ambition and self-doubt in a world that isn’t kind to vulnerability.

Nafessa Williams’ Cameron Cook stands out as a powerful American producer who arrives at Corinium like a force of nature. Her character isn’t here to bow to British class structures; she’s here to shake things up, and Williams’ portrayal of Cameron is both elegant and tenacious. When Cameron warns Baddingham that “television is only loyal to one thing—ratings,” you sense her unwavering determination to succeed in a world that would prefer to ignore her. The cast is rounded out with Danny Dyer, Emily Atack, and Claire Rushbrook, who each bring a layer of complexity and life to their roles, turning every scene into an engaging tapestry of ambition, jealousy, and hilariously underhanded tactics.

The Rivals cast not only breathes life into Cooper’s characters but also offers a masterclass in balancing humor and drama, showcasing characters who aren’t easily categorized as heroes or villains. In a world where everyone’s vying for power or prestige, these actors manage to make each role unforgettable, each interaction filled with tension, wit, and an addictive charm. David Tennant, Alex Hassell, Aidan Turner, and the rest of this stellar ensemble make Rivals a series that revels in the 80s’ best (and worst) qualities, bringing Jilly Cooper’s vision to the screen in the most spectacular fashion.

Power Plays and Rivalries: The Central Conflicts

Media Wars: Corinium Television’s Battle for Dominance

In Rivals, Corinium Television isn’t just a studio; it’s a battleground. The concept of media rivalry might seem straightforward in an era of limitless streaming, but in the 80s, it was a ferocious world where the power lay in a few hands, all grappling to captivate the limited TV-watching public. Lord Tony Baddingham, a man who views every challenge as an affront to his aristocratic status, is relentless in his pursuit to make Corinium a media powerhouse. “This isn’t the BBC,” he sneers to his American producer Cameron Cook, making it clear that his brand of television demands pizzazz, power, and a touch of the personal vendetta.

To Baddingham, every rating point is a small victory over the more culturally “refined” networks. His competition isn’t just about controlling the airwaves; it’s about controlling narratives, massaging the truth to suit his agenda, and waging war in a space where influence equals power. Baddingham has even gone as far as recruiting Declan O’Hara, an ambitious and sharp Irish news anchor, away from the BBC to give Corinium an edge. For Declan, it’s a jump into the fire—he’s as passionate about journalism as Baddingham is about dominance, but their philosophies clash. “Corinium isn’t about truth,” Declan points out to his wife, Maude, shaking his head as he reads through the network’s programming guidelines. Yet, he stays, drawn by the thrill of high-stakes broadcasting where ethics and ambition clash in equal measure.

The tension at Corinium is palpable, as every executive decision and every new program feels like a step in Baddingham’s private war against the Establishment—the snooty institutions he thinks have held people like him back. This isn’t just a workplace; it’s a theater where personal egos and professional ambition battle for supremacy, a seductive game where ratings are the ultimate proof of victory. Declan, too, realizes that working at Corinium means selling not just stories but his soul, albeit with his own unique blend of charm and Irish sarcasm.

Class Warfare: Old Money vs. Nouveau Riche

If you thought Downton Abbey had its class battles, Rivals amplifies it to a spectacular showdown between “old” and “new” money. At its core, Rivals is a study of class warfare as much as it is a story of ambition and desire. Rupert Campbell-Black, representing the elite aristocracy with his unapologetic charm and bottomless arrogance, embodies old money in every conceivable way. His rival, Lord Tony Baddingham, is nouveau riche—though married into money, his rise to prominence has been paved by sheer ambition, not pedigree.

These two men are like opposing forces of nature, with Rupert’s unspoken disdain for Baddingham’s commercial ventures coloring every interaction. When Rupert quips, “Some of us didn’t have to buy our way in,” it’s more than a snide remark. It’s a dagger aimed right at Baddingham’s insecurities, exposing the deep-seated tension between the privileged and the self-made.

For Rupert, money is a birthright, a concept so ingrained that he’s almost blasé about it. Baddingham, on the other hand, has fought tooth and nail to gain respect and is keenly aware of every slight and every sneer. His ambition to outshine the aristocrats isn’t just about wealth but a deep-rooted need to prove he’s earned his place at the top. Their conflict is a richly drawn reflection of Britain in the 80s—a society caught between preserving the old guard and embracing the new wave of wealth generated through media, technology, and corporate ventures.

Even as Baddingham seeks to rise, Rupert has no intention of relinquishing his throne. Their rivalry spills over into every interaction, creating an atmosphere thick with unspoken resentment and caustic humor. Their battles are laced with condescension, as each man tries to assert his dominance. “Respect doesn’t come with a price tag,” Rupert drawls at one point, making it clear that in his world, wealth without heritage is little more than vulgarity dressed up in a bespoke suit.

Personal Vendettas and Professional Ambitions

In Rivals, power struggles aren’t just confined to corporate boardrooms and country estates—they seep into personal lives, turning friendships, marriages, and alliances into pawns in a high-stakes game. Baddingham’s decision to recruit Cameron Cook, an American producer with a fierce independence, isn’t merely about securing ratings; it’s a strategy to irritate his British counterparts and assert his own vision of what television should be. For Cameron, navigating these aristocratic waters is as much about protecting her identity as it is about her job. “I didn’t come all this way to be a silent partner,” she insists to Baddingham, who has long operated under the assumption that everyone at Corinium owes their loyalty to him alone.

Then there’s Declan, whose drive to outshine his old employer, the BBC, has more to do with his bruised ego than his career. For Declan, joining Corinium means finally getting the respect he believes he deserves, even if it means abandoning his journalistic principles for a network where every story is spun. His wife, Maude, a celebrated actress, watches with a mixture of admiration and fear as Declan immerses himself in this world. She recognizes the ambition that has always driven him but fears that Corinium might just break him. Declan, though, can’t resist the allure of Corinium’s promise of prestige. For him, this is more than a job—it’s his ticket to influence, power, and, if all goes well, the respect of an audience he’s been chasing for years.

In Rivals, personal vendettas fuel professional ambitions, each betrayal adding layers to the intrigue that keeps viewers hooked. Every character, from Rupert to Baddingham, to Cameron and Declan, is caught up in a whirlwind of ambition where loyalty is as disposable as yesterday’s headlines. Their entangled lives offer a fascinating, voyeuristic thrill—a glimpse into the relentless pursuit of success that defines them, even as it threatens to destroy them.

Behind the Scenes: Crafting ‘Rivals’

The Vision of Dominic Treadwell-Collins and Laura Wade

Bringing Jilly Cooper’s novel to life was no small feat, and Dominic Treadwell-Collins and Laura Wade took on the challenge with a blend of reverence and cheeky audacity. Treadwell-Collins, known for his ability to infuse drama with a sense of character depth, understood that Rivals had to be more than a campy throwback. His vision was to stay true to the gritty, gloriously indulgent world Cooper created while adding a layer of sophistication that would resonate with modern viewers. “The secret to Rivals,” Treadwell-Collins mused, “is that it never shies away from the absurdity of privilege while recognizing the vulnerability beneath.” He saw the characters not merely as caricatures of wealth and power but as flawed individuals, whose insecurities and ambitions gave them universal appeal.

Laura Wade, with her sharp eye for social dynamics, was the perfect partner in crime. She approached the adaptation with an almost anthropological curiosity, dissecting every relationship and social stratum within Rutshire’s elite. Wade saw Rivals as an opportunity to comment on society’s obsession with power and privilege, without stripping away the fun. Her input gave the series a grounded feel, even amidst the theatrical excess. Together, Treadwell-Collins and Wade created a world that was lush, layered, and unapologetically dramatic, a space where viewers could revel in the chaos of aristocratic life while seeing glimpses of modern social dynamics in every interaction.

Direction under Elliot Hegarty: Bringing Drama to Life

Elliot Hegarty, the visionary director behind the first three episodes, brought a distinct energy to Rivals, transforming Cooper’s narrative into a visual feast that’s as compelling as it is outrageous. Hegarty’s approach was to bring the Cotswolds to life, turning the scenic landscapes into a stark contrast to the cutthroat world of Corinium Television. He wanted viewers to feel the clash between the pastoral beauty of the countryside and the savage ambitions of its inhabitants. “Drama lives in the contrast,” Hegarty said, with his signature dry humor. “The more serene the setting, the wilder the storm brewing within.”

Hegarty didn’t just direct Rivals; he choreographed it, crafting each scene to maximize tension while highlighting the absurdity of the characters’ opulent lifestyles. His direction pushed actors to explore the nuances in their characters, ensuring that every look, every pause, and every line dripped with subtext. For instance, his work with Alex Hassell (Rupert) involved emphasizing the subtleties of Rupert’s disdain, capturing his expressions with close-ups that turned his smallest smirk into a seismic statement on class arrogance. Hegarty’s direction gave Rivals a rhythm that keeps viewers glued to the screen, aware that every scene might just tip over into the kind of scandal that made Cooper’s novels so addictive.

Filming in the Cotswolds: Setting the Scene in Rutshire

The choice to film Rivals in the Cotswolds was not just a nod to Cooper’s original setting but an essential ingredient in capturing the essence of Rutshire, the fictional playground of the elite. The Cotswolds, with its quaint villages and sprawling estates, provides a perfect juxtaposition for the drama that unfolds. The Bottle Yard Studios and Tetbury in Gloucestershire served as the primary locations, giving the production a rich, atmospheric backdrop that feels both timeless and rooted in the charm of 80s Britain.

The decision to film in these authentic settings added an undeniable texture to the series. It’s one thing to imagine the Cotswolds, but it’s quite another to see characters like Rupert and Baddingham traipsing through manicured gardens and ancient estates, engaging in power plays that seem both natural and utterly outrageous. The Cotswolds lend an air of legitimacy to the high society shenanigans, turning the picturesque landscapes into a silent character within the story. Watching Rupert stroll through a perfectly manicured lawn or Baddingham glancing over his estate from a private terrace, viewers are reminded that, in Rutshire, appearances are everything—even if it’s just a veneer over the chaos lurking underneath.

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Thematic Exploration: Sex Positivity and Feminism

In the bold world of Rivals, where desire and influence often collide, the theme of consent and power dynamics emerges with striking relevance. Set in the indulgent 80s, Rivals doesn’t shy away from exploring the complexities of human relationships, where ambition and lust dance precariously close to manipulation. Characters like Rupert Campbell-Black and Tony Baddingham wield their power with an unflinching sense of entitlement, often treating boundaries as minor inconveniences in their quests for satisfaction and influence.

Rupert, in particular, embodies the tension between charm and chauvinism. With a wink and a perfectly arched brow, he’s quick to brush off objections, viewing resistance as part of the seduction rather than a boundary. In one scene, he leans in to a female colleague, “Come now, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy a little danger.” Here, Rivals lays bare the darker edges of the romantic chase, where the allure of authority can cloud the lines of consent. Yet, amidst this power play, the series carefully frames Rupert’s entitlement as a product of his environment rather than a universally accepted norm.

Meanwhile, female characters in Rivals often navigate these imbalances with an acute awareness, balancing desire with an understanding of how easily power can overshadow pleasure. This series isn’t a fairy tale but a reflection of the compromises women often make, both in the boardroom and the bedroom, to maintain autonomy while navigating a world eager to confine them to passive roles. Here, Rivals steps up to dissect how power can complicate even the most consensual exchanges, forcing viewers to confront the fine line between genuine attraction and coercion.

Female Agency in a Male-Dominated World

If one thing is clear in Rivals, it’s that women aren’t waiting for permission to assert themselves. They’re at the heart of this male-dominated world, not as trophies or tokens but as architects of their own destinies. Take Cameron Cook, for instance, the fiercely driven American producer whose very presence at Corinium is a challenge to the status quo. Her introduction isn’t just an aesthetic choice; it’s a seismic shift, a breath of fresh (and distinctly un-English) air that rattles the boys’ club of Rutshire’s aristocracy. Cameron knows exactly how far the men around her will go to assert control, and she’s prepared to outmaneuver them every step of the way. “I’m here for business, not your approval,” she tells Baddingham with a no-nonsense gaze, firmly establishing her agency in a world that would prefer her silent or sidelined.

Similarly, Lizzie Vereker provides a unique perspective on female agency in the context of marriage. Unlike the confident Cameron, Lizzie is riddled with insecurities, yet she persistently resists her husband’s attempts to mold her into the “ideal” wife. Lizzie’s journey isn’t grand or dramatic, but it is deeply relatable. She’s a quiet revolutionary, chipping away at her husband’s expectations, refusing to be a mere accessory to his ambitions. The series doesn’t position her as a heroine, but rather as an ordinary woman refusing to compromise her identity—a subtle, realistic portrayal of everyday feminism in the 80s.

What Rivals masterfully accomplishes is illustrating the strength and adaptability of these women as they navigate a landscape designed to contain them. They’re not depicted as overtly rebellious but as resilient, using wit, charm, and sometimes subversion to protect their autonomy. Through them, Rivals comments on the resilience required of women to retain control over their lives in an era still wrestling with the concept of female agency.

Balancing Pleasure and Exploitation

The bonkbuster genre has always danced on a fine line between celebrating sensuality and bordering on exploitation. Rivals acknowledges this tension and deliberately plays within it, exploring how pleasure can coexist with agency while remaining mindful of its pitfalls. In the series, female characters are not denied their desires. Rather, they pursue them actively, with an audacity that feels both liberating and empowering. Sex isn’t a commodity here; it’s a tool, an experience, a choice—sometimes even a declaration of independence.

But Rivals doesn’t ignore the reality that pleasure can often be manipulated into exploitation, especially within the intense world of media and power politics. This is seen most starkly in the interactions between Declan and the female colleagues he tries to charm, a dance where admiration and objectification are only ever a hair’s breadth apart. In one scene, Declan tells his wife, “This isn’t just about work, Maude; it’s about proving my worth.” Yet, Maude can see the toll this need for validation is taking, as Declan risks objectifying his ambitions as much as he does his colleagues.

This theme of balancing pleasure and exploitation ultimately positions Rivals as a self-aware entry into the bonkbuster genre, a story that challenges its own indulgence by reflecting on the personal costs behind the allure. Rather than romanticizing desire, the series interrogates it, capturing the era’s sex positivity without ignoring the inherent risks that come with unchecked appetites.

Social Issues Unveiled: The Dark Side of the 80s

Homophobia and LGBTQ+ Representation

In its portrayal of the 80s, Rivals delves into the undercurrents of homophobia, revealing a society still entrenched in prejudice and suspicion. In this era, being part of the LGBTQ+ community often meant navigating a minefield of judgment, ostracism, and whispers that were as loud as they were unspoken. Characters in Rivals experience this cultural disdain firsthand, exposing the devastating emotional toll of having to hide one’s identity to fit into a rigid societal mold.

One of the supporting characters, who quietly struggles with his orientation, is forced to maintain a façade, aware that any misstep could spell disaster for his personal and professional life. For this character, even close friendships are laced with caution, and moments of connection come at the cost of vigilance. The absence of overt LGBTQ+ storylines reflects the invisibility many felt during the Thatcher era, where “tolerance” was often little more than polite bigotry. By capturing this tension, Rivals offers a subtle yet powerful commentary on the suffocating impact of homophobia, rendering it all the more painful by illustrating how acceptance was often a distant hope rather than a reality.

Racism and Misogynoir: Nafessa Williams’ Cameron Cook

Perhaps the boldest choice Rivals makes is through Cameron Cook, an African-American producer navigating not just the power plays of Corinium but the racial prejudice that runs deep in Rutshire’s society. Cameron is a study in resilience; her mere presence in the Cotswolds rattles characters who cling to antiquated views of both race and gender. As a Black woman in a predominantly white, male industry, Cameron embodies the struggles of misogynoir—where sexism and racism intersect in particularly brutal ways. When a male colleague dismissively tells her, “Maybe you’d fit in better if you tried being a little less… assertive,” Cameron’s sharp retort, “Maybe I’m just right for the job because I know how to work twice as hard,” is as much a declaration of self-worth as it is a survival strategy.

Williams’ portrayal of Cameron brings an additional layer of tension to the series, as her character must constantly prove her competence while contending with the double-edged sword of being both Black and female in a space that values neither attribute. Her interactions are riddled with microaggressions and veiled dismissals, and yet Cameron holds her own, challenging stereotypes with a fortitude that is as subtle as it is powerful. Her presence underscores Rivals’s commitment to exploring racism in a way that feels relevant to the era yet uncomfortably familiar to modern audiences.

The Excesses and Inequalities of Thatcher’s Britain

In the 80s, Britain under Thatcher was a land of stark contrasts. Prosperity and poverty existed side by side, often with little empathy bridging the gap. Rivals taps into this dichotomy, peeling back the glitzy surface to reveal the less-than-glamorous realities lurking beneath. Characters like Rupert and Baddingham are oblivious to the struggles of the lower classes, sipping champagne and throwing lavish parties as economic disparity reaches record highs.

The show doesn’t shy away from showcasing the ugly face of the Thatcher era’s inequalities. While the privileged few bask in indulgence, those outside the gates of Rutshire’s estates are grappling with cuts to public services, skyrocketing unemployment, and a government that prioritizes profit over people. This indifference to hardship is captured in offhand remarks and casual disdain. At one point, Rupert scoffs, “It’s not my fault if people can’t keep up.” It’s a line that epitomizes the detached elitism of the time, and Rivals uses it to chilling effect, showing how the privileged rarely feel the sting of policies that impoverish those less fortunate.

The series uses the lavish lives of its characters not to glamorize, but to critique the moral vacuum left by unchecked excess. By setting these social issues against a backdrop of opulence, Rivals paints a sharp picture of an era defined by both prosperity and prejudice, highlighting how easily the privileged turn a blind eye to the injustices surrounding them. Through this, Rivals doesn’t just recreate the Thatcher era; it dissects it, offering viewers a raw glimpse into a world of dazzling decadence tempered by a biting undercurrent of inequality. 

Style and Substance: The Aesthetics of Rivals

Fashion Flashback: Denim, Dungarees, and Power Suits

The 80s were not a decade known for subtlety, and Rivals leans into that aesthetic extravagance with all the gusto of a Duran Duran music video. Fashion in Rivals isn’t mere wardrobe; it’s a powerful character that steals the spotlight just as shamelessly as Rupert Campbell-Black himself. From stone-washed denim and oversized dungarees to double-breasted power suits in every imaginable hue, the Rivals costume design is a vibrant, unabashed tribute to the sartorial excess of the time.

Every outfit on the show is a deliberate callback to 80s fashion tropes—each piece almost a defiant statement against the minimalist styles we’re used to seeing today. The infamous power suit, shoulder pads puffed to the heavens, dominates the screen like a personal fortress. It’s the attire of choice for Rupert and Baddingham, worn as a badge of social status and as a sign that subtlety was, indeed, considered anathema to the upper class of Rutshire. For Rupert, a power suit isn’t just clothing; it’s armor. He once scoffed to Declan, “If you’re not dressing like a threat, you’re not dressing at all.” The suits, in their larger-than-life confidence, mirror the swagger of these characters, underscoring how image and identity are inseparable in a world where perception is everything.

The female characters, however, turn the fashion game into a battlefield of their own. From Cameron’s structured blazers to Lizzie Vereker’s floral prints and clashing pastels, each outfit is a deliberate rebellion against the old-fashioned gender norms embedded in their world. Cameron, with her fierce American style, steps into Corinium as if to say, “Yes, I know exactly how much space I’m taking up, and I intend to take up more.” It’s no accident that she towers over her male counterparts in her high heels, every inch of her outfit tailored to assert her presence in a space reluctant to welcome her ambition. By dressing the women in outfits that are as bold as their characters, Rivals turns fashion into a visual language that makes each scene as much a statement on gender as it is a celebration of 80s fashion.

Musical Nostalgia: The Soundtrack of the Decade

What would the 80s be without its music? For Rivals, the soundtrack isn’t just background noise; it’s an intoxicating blend of nostalgia and rebellion that underscores the decade’s chaotic charm. Expect the iconic notes of Wham! or the haunting melodies of The Smiths to sneak in just when the tension hits a breaking point, adding a layer of emotional resonance to the scenes that even dialogue can’t capture. The soundtrack is a lovingly curated playlist that brings viewers right back to a time when synthesizers ruled and every lyric felt like a personal anthem.

The show’s creators didn’t simply settle for pop hits; they embraced the full spectrum of the 80s soundscape, moving fluidly from post-punk to glam rock. There’s a scene, for instance, where Declan O’Hara contemplates his future at Corinium against the backdrop of Bowie’s “Heroes,” the lyrics hinting at his inner turmoil and determination in a way no amount of introspection could. When Lord Baddingham throws a lavish party, Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” blares, a cheeky nod to his predatory ambition and his penchant for grandiosity. The music selection is masterful, capturing the emotional highs and lows of each character while remaining a faithful tribute to the soundtrack of the 80s.

For viewers who lived through the decade, the music evokes memories of cassette tapes, rebellious nights, and a world where every song was a piece of personal history. For younger audiences, it’s a glimpse into a time when music was as much about self-expression as it was about social commentary. The musical nostalgia in Rivals is a love letter to the 80s, inviting viewers to revel in a past where melodies carried more than just a tune—they carried the weight of a generation.

Visual Storytelling: Set Design and Cinematography

The aesthetics of Rivals extend far beyond clothing and music. The set design and cinematography transform the Cotswolds into an elaborate stage where every hedge, estate, and parlor is meticulously crafted to evoke the era’s excess. The setting is not just a backdrop; it’s a visual diary of the characters’ inner lives and ambitions, adding richness to the world of Rutshire that words alone could never capture.

The camera doesn’t just observe; it revels in the details, capturing every intricate pattern on Baddingham’s vintage wallpaper, every line of Rupert’s marble fireplace, and every blade of grass on the perfectly manicured lawns where socialites stroll, oblivious to the storms brewing in their lives. The set pieces tell a silent story about the hierarchy in Rutshire. The boardrooms of Corinium are sleek and modern, filled with glass and metal, contrasting with the dark wood and classical décor of Baddingham’s estate, where tradition reigns supreme. The series plays with light and shadow, illuminating characters in moments of vulnerability while casting shadows that hint at the secrets each one harbors.

One particularly stunning shot sees Cameron standing alone at the edge of a grand, empty room, a solitary figure against a backdrop of decadent opulence. The camera lingers, as if to say, “Here is a woman who has intruded into this world, and yet somehow she belongs.” In these moments, Rivals doesn’t need dialogue or plot twists to convey the tension; the visual storytelling does all the talking, using framing and set design to elevate every scene from mere drama to pure cinematic art.

Critical Acclaim: Reception of ‘Rivals’

Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic: High Scores Explained

The numbers don’t lie—Rivals is a hit, and critics have been swift in their praise. On Rotten Tomatoes, the show boasts an impressive approval rating, solidifying its status as a bonafide crowd-pleaser. Critics highlight the show’s audacious take on a well-worn era, lauding its fearless embrace of the bonkbuster spirit. With an average rating that sits comfortably in the high 80s, it’s clear that Rivals isn’t merely nostalgic fluff; it’s a carefully crafted series that resonates with audiences on multiple levels.

Metacritic, known for its more measured scoring, echoes this acclaim with a high average, signaling “universal acclaim.” These high scores reflect more than just viewer satisfaction; they reveal an appreciation for the series’ layered approach to 80s excess. Rather than settling for simple caricature, Rivals has created characters with depth, dialogue with wit, and drama with relevance, making it a standout in a sea of reboots and adaptations. The critical reception on both platforms underscores Rivals’s unique appeal—a throwback that doesn’t sacrifice quality for nostalgia.

Critics’ Consensus: Addictive Viewing with Swagger

The critics’ consensus is resoundingly clear: Rivals is as addictive as it is audacious. Reviews praise the series for its confidence, noting that it manages to bring swagger and satire in equal measure. Critics agree that the show’s strength lies in its refusal to hold back. Rather than sanitizing the 80s, Rivals embraces the decade in all its messy glory, offering viewers a taste of a world where morality was often as fluid as the cocktails and as sharp as the shoulder pads.

One critic aptly described Rivals as “the perfect blend of nostalgia and novelty,” noting that it achieves the difficult balance of honoring the original material while updating it with a fresh perspective. Another lauded the show for its wit, stating, “Rivals isn’t afraid to poke fun at its own characters, giving us a cast that’s as flawed as it is fascinating.” The consensus reveals a shared appreciation for the series’ bold approach, applauding its willingness to revel in the 80s while providing viewers with characters and storylines that are both humorous and heartfelt.

Audience Reactions: Balancing Nostalgia and Modernity

Perhaps the greatest compliment Rivals has received is the overwhelming audience response. Viewers from every generation have found something to love, whether it’s the nostalgic fashion, the brilliant soundtrack, or the complex characters. For those who lived through the 80s, Rivals is a trip down memory lane, a chance to revisit a time when glamor and grit coexisted with wild abandon. One fan posted, “Finally, a show that doesn’t apologize for the 80s! Rivals captures it all—the good, the bad, and the fabulously tacky.” It’s this unapologetic embrace of the past that has endeared Rivals to a generation that remembers the era fondly.

For younger audiences, however, Rivals offers a glimpse into a world they know only from movies and history books, and the response has been just as enthusiastic. Many appreciate the show’s modern take on the characters, with one viewer commenting, “This isn’t just a period drama; it’s a reminder that ambition, love, and rivalry are timeless.” The blend of nostalgia and relevance has struck a chord, creating a series that transcends generational divides.

Rivals has achieved that rare feat of resonating across ages and cultures, a testament to the universal appeal of good storytelling. With each episode, the show masterfully balances the pull of the past with the sharp lens of the present, allowing audiences to revel in the 80s’ excesses while reflecting on how much, or how little, has changed. In the end, Rivals isn’t just a period piece; it’s a show with swagger, humor, and a deeply satisfying love for the ridiculous—and it’s that perfect mix that has audiences, critics, and fans eagerly awaiting every episode.

Witty Exchanges: The Sharp Dialogue of ‘Rivals’

In Rivals, conversations aren’t just fillers between action; they’re the beating heart of the series. Every exchange is laced with wit, sarcasm, and a touch of barbed charm that turns even the most mundane interactions into a verbal battleground. When Rupert Campbell-Black and Lord Tony Baddingham share the screen, their words are as meticulously crafted as their suits. Baddingham, never one to miss an opportunity for condescension, tells Rupert at one point, “You know, Rupert, I’ve often thought that charm without intellect is as useless as tea without gin.” Rupert raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Good thing I never waste mine on the likes of you, Tony.”

These moments aren’t just for laughs; they’re a window into the characters’ personalities, histories, and even grudges. Every sarcastic jab, every coy compliment, is a piece in the puzzle of character dynamics that makes Rivals so addictive. Whether it’s Cameron Cook’s dry wit or Lizzie Vereker’s subtle, self-deprecating humor, the dialogue adds layers to characters who might otherwise feel like mere symbols of their social class. Dialogue here isn’t just a means of communication; it’s a weapon, a shield, and an identity. In a world where appearances are everything, the way these characters speak says more about them than any action ever could.

Relationships Explored: Love, Lust, and Loyalty

The relationships in Rivals are as tangled as they are compelling, each one teetering between affection and rivalry, trust and betrayal. Love isn’t a straightforward affair here; it’s colored by jealousy, ambition, and, at times, a sense of duty rather than true passion. Take Rupert’s relationship with his many romantic interests—he treats love as a game, a conquest to be won. One of his more fleeting flings quips, “With you, Rupert, every ‘I love you’ sounds like a business transaction.” Rupert doesn’t even blink, simply responding, “Good thing I’m an excellent negotiator.” In his world, love isn’t about vulnerability; it’s about maintaining control, about getting what he wants without giving too much in return.

Then there’s Declan and Maude O’Hara, whose marriage balances on the knife’s edge of loyalty and self-interest. Declan’s ambition often overshadows his affection, while Maude, a talented actress, finds herself both enamored with and exasperated by her husband’s relentless drive. She confides to a friend, “It’s hard to compete with his career, especially when it feels like it’s the one thing he truly loves.” The loyalty in their relationship is a complicated dance, held together as much by shared history as by genuine affection. They’re committed, but that commitment is constantly tested by the demands of a world that rarely rewards devotion over ambition.

Each relationship in Rivals offers a unique blend of love, lust, and loyalty, reflecting the messy realities of human connection. It’s this complexity that elevates Rivals beyond mere melodrama, showing that relationships aren’t just romantic escapades—they’re alliances, power plays, and sometimes even quiet rebellions against the constraints of society.

Character Development through Interaction

In Rivals, characters aren’t defined solely by their backgrounds or ambitions; they’re shaped by their interactions with others. The series masterfully uses character interactions to reveal depths and dimensions that would otherwise remain hidden. Rupert, for instance, appears as the quintessential playboy, a man driven by charm and privilege. Yet, when he interacts with Cameron Cook, a woman who has neither time nor patience for his entitlement, a different side of him emerges. Her straightforwardness disarms him, and though he would never admit it, there’s a flicker of respect that forces him to rethink his usual bravado. Cameron, in turn, sees through his veneer, and in one telling moment remarks, “You act like nothing matters to you, Rupert, but that’s just because you’ve never had to fight for anything real.” This exchange isn’t just about the two characters; it’s a commentary on how privilege can breed a kind of detachment that is as isolating as it is empowering.

Similarly, Declan’s interactions with his colleagues at Corinium reveal his desperation for approval. He tries to assert authority with his sharp wit and relentless drive, yet his eagerness to please often undermines him, leading to moments of vulnerability that humanize his otherwise prickly demeanor. Through these interactions, the show paints a nuanced portrait of a man who wants respect but is unsure how to earn it without compromising his values.

Rivals excels at using dialogue and interaction to develop its characters, illustrating how each relationship, whether hostile or affectionate, serves as a catalyst for personal growth—or downfall. These dynamics make Rivals a deeply human story, a series where every interaction is a stepping stone in the characters’ journeys toward self-discovery, redemption, or ruin.

Controversies and Critiques

Depiction of Sensitive Topics: A Double-Edged Sword

Rivals doesn’t tiptoe around sensitive topics; it dives into them with the same audacious flair it applies to fashion and scandal. This willingness to engage with complex issues is both a strength and a sticking point, as the series grapples with subjects like sexism, racism, and class disparity. The show’s portrayal of these issues is layered but not without controversy. While some applaud Rivals for tackling uncomfortable truths, others argue that its treatment of certain topics veers dangerously close to glamorizing the very prejudices it seeks to criticize.

The portrayal of sexism, for instance, is intricately woven into the characters’ lives. Rupert’s interactions with women are frequently tinged with condescension, a reflection of the 80s culture that allowed men to dismiss women with a casual smirk. Yet, the series stops short of outright condemnation, leaving viewers to interpret whether it’s a critique or a mere reflection. Cameron’s experience as a Black woman in a predominantly white, male-dominated industry adds another layer, highlighting the compounded struggles of misogynoir. While her resilience is inspiring, some critics argue that the show could do more to unpack the emotional toll of her experiences rather than just showcasing her defiance as a trait of strength. It’s a delicate balance, and Rivals walks a fine line between depiction and critique, sometimes blurring the boundaries in a way that sparks debate. 

The Debate on Nostalgia vs. Glorification

When it comes to portraying the 80s, Rivals is unapologetically nostalgic. From the glitzy costumes to the pulsating soundtrack, the show revels in the excesses of the decade. But nostalgia is a double-edged sword, especially when it risks veering into glorification. Critics are quick to point out that while Rivals captures the decade’s fashion and music with flair, it often presents the wealth and privilege of its characters without enough critical lens, potentially romanticizing an era that was rife with social inequality.

The series walks a tightrope between celebrating the aesthetic and critiquing the ethics of the 80s. While fans argue that the nostalgic elements are an essential part of the show’s charm, detractors worry that it risks sending the message that wealth and privilege were, and perhaps still are, the ultimate markers of success. The show’s creators have defended their choices, with one stating, “Our aim was to portray the allure and the absurdity of the 80s, to show that it was as much about the flaws as it was about the fun.” Yet, for some viewers, this justification doesn’t quite dispel the uneasy sense that Rivals occasionally leans too heavily into the glitz without enough of the grit.

The Series’ Place in Contemporary Discourse

In an age where television often serves as a mirror to society, Rivals occupies a curious space. It’s both a love letter to a bygone era and a subtle critique of the values that defined it. But where does it fit in contemporary discourse? For some, Rivals is a refreshing escape, a series that dares to revel in indulgence without constantly nodding to modern sensibilities. For others, it’s a missed opportunity—a show that could have gone deeper into the issues it touches on, exploring not just the superficialities of privilege but also its repercussions.

In one particularly telling moment, Cameron, confronted with a racist remark from a colleague, simply raises an eyebrow and delivers a sharp retort. For some viewers, her response is the epitome of resilience, a powerful act of defiance. Yet, others argue that the show’s reluctance to dwell on such moments feels like a cop-out, an avoidance of the very conversations that modern audiences are eager to engage with. This approach places Rivals in a peculiar position, at once applauded for its confidence and critiqued for its perceived hesitancy to engage more deeply with today’s social issues.

Rivals doesn’t aim to be a moral compass; it’s a reflection of a time when opulence and ruthlessness were virtues as much as vices. It invites viewers to enjoy the ride but leaves the interpretation of its message open to debate, making it both a celebration of and commentary on the 80s. For fans, this ambiguity is part of its charm—a show that respects the audience’s intelligence enough not to spell out its stance. For critics, however, this hands-off approach can feel like a missed chance to connect more meaningfully with today’s climate. In the end, Rivals serves as a fascinating study in the balance of nostalgia and relevance, offering a mirror to the past while letting viewers decide what they see in it.

Final Verdict: Is Rivals Worth Watching?

Strengths: Stellar Performances and Engaging Storyline

The heart of Rivals lies in its stellar performances and the captivating storyline that carries each scene like a tide, pulling viewers deeper with every twist. The cast, handpicked to portray a universe where ambition and luxury collide, embodies characters with a vibrancy rarely seen on television. Alex Hassell as Rupert Campbell-Black captures the aristocratic playboy’s magnetic arrogance with remarkable finesse. He strides through every scene as if he owns not just the room but the very concept of charm itself, delivering lines like, “Power is best savored with an audience,” with such ease it’s hard to tell where Rupert ends, and Hassell begins.

David Tennant as Lord Tony Baddingham, meanwhile, brings a razor-sharp precision to the role, managing to make old-money entitlement feel both infuriating and endearing. His portrayal is a balancing act of power and subtlety. “The thing about influence,” he mutters with a weary smirk, “is that the louder you shout about it, the less you probably have.” Tennant’s performance is complemented by Aidan Turner as Declan O’Hara, whose earnest, sometimes naïve ambition provides the perfect foil to Rupert’s cynicism. Turner’s charm is so effortlessly disarming that even his sharpest critiques of the establishment land with a sense of integrity rather than rebellion. Katherine Parkinson and Nafessa Williams as Lizzie and Cameron add further depth, each infusing her role with the kind of wit and warmth that makes Rivals more than just a saga of power-hungry elites—it’s a human story.

The engaging storyline of Rivals sets it apart from standard period dramas. Adapted from Jilly Cooper’s celebrated novel, it explores not only the intrigue of the 80s media wars but the personal conflicts and romances that create stakes beyond boardroom deals. It’s as much a tale of ambition as it is an exploration of loyalty, showing how alliances shift in a world where success is measured by reputation and influence. This blend of interpersonal drama and cultural satire gives Rivals an edge, making it more than just an escape into another era—it’s a reflection on the timeless game of social power.

Weaknesses: Controversial Themes and Modern Sensibilities

Yet, as with any show that plunges into the morally ambiguous waters of a bygone era, Rivals has its weaknesses. The show’s portrayal of certain controversial themes, from sexism to classism, has sparked debate among viewers who question whether the line between satire and glorification is always clear. Some argue that the show’s indulgence in 80s excess sometimes veers into glamorization, leaving it open to misinterpretation. Rupert’s unapologetically hedonistic approach to life, for instance, can feel jarring in a modern context. He struts around Corinium with an air of entitlement, tossing aside obstacles with a dismissive, “Some of us were simply born to rise,” and while it’s clearly meant to showcase his privilege, it can occasionally feel as though the narrative is letting him get away with it.

For viewers attuned to modern sensibilities, these elements may seem insensitive or out of touch, as though the series is reveling a bit too much in the decadence of the time without enough critique. Characters like Cameron Cook, while groundbreaking in some ways, can feel under-utilized, raising questions about whether Rivals fully appreciates the weight of the social issues it depicts. The series, in its attempt to blend satire with nostalgia, sometimes risks blurring the line between critique and admiration.

Audience Appeal: Who Will Enjoy ‘Rivals’?

Rivals will certainly strike a chord with fans of period dramas and those who revel in the wild, unapologetic excesses of the 80s. For viewers who love complex characters and morally ambiguous storylines where good and bad are fluid, this series is a gem. Audiences drawn to character-driven drama will appreciate the depth of relationships in Rivals, from the professional rivalry between Rupert and Declan to the nuanced tension between Lizzie and her socially demanding role as a high-society wife. These dynamics give the series a richness that will satisfy viewers who crave intricate interpersonal relationships over action-packed plotlines.

However, Rivals might be challenging for audiences looking for clear-cut heroes or a strong moral compass. Its characters are flawed, often to a degree that makes them simultaneously captivating and frustrating. For example, Baddingham’s old-school elitism is as fascinating as it is infuriating; he embodies the era’s contradictions, making him a character that some will admire and others will despise. Fans of social critique will find plenty to dissect here, though they should be prepared for a story that doesn’t spoon-feed conclusions. Instead, Rivals invites viewers to wade through the ethical murk of the 80s and draw their own judgments—a choice that some will find refreshing and others disconcerting.

Recommendation: A Must-Watch or Miss?

So, should you watch Rivals TV series 2024? If you’re looking for a drama that doesn’t hold back, that mixes biting wit with high stakes and grand gestures, Rivals is a resounding yes. It’s a must-watch for anyone who loves nuanced storytelling and doesn’t mind getting their hands dirty in the muck of human ambition and folly. This isn’t the show for those who prefer characters who are easily likable or storylines that resolve with moral clarity. Rather, it’s a series for viewers who relish the messiness of life, who understand that power and privilege come with a price, and that sometimes, to see the whole picture, you have to be willing to look at the shadows as well as the light.

For those willing to dive in, Rivals offers a rich, layered experience, one that transcends its surface-level glamour to explore the complexities of power and the peculiarities of human nature. In short, if you’re in the mood for a show that’s as smart as it is sensational, as reflective as it is rebellious, and as flawed as the very characters it portrays, Rivals will be your next obsession.

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