“I like persons better than principles,” Lord Harry Wotton, the libertine mentor in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, tells his impressionable friend. “And I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world.” This manifesto of decadence could well serve as the county motto for Rutshire, whose randy residents form the ensemble of Disney+’s Rivals, returning this week for its eagerly awaited second outing.
In the wake of the first skirmish between Corinium Television – led by Lord Baddingham (David Tennant) – and Venturer – proposed by the ragtag trio of Rupert Campbell-Black (Alex Hassell), Declan O’Hara (Aidan Turner) and Freddie Jones (Danny Dyer) – the battle for the airwaves is heating up. “1987 is a franchise year and we are at war,” Baddingham tells his staff, as he recovers from a head injury sustained in the first series’ climax. He’s lost none of his spirit. “An eye for an eye? We’ll take their f***ing heads off!”
He’s aided by the lack of cohesion within the opposition. Rupert has shacked up with Cameron Cook (Nafessa Williams), leaving Declan’s daughter Taggie (Bella Maclean) heartbroken. And neither Declan nor Freddie’s marriage is running smoothly: Maud O’Hara (Victoria Smurfit) is away, acting on the stage in London, while Freddie is continuing his intrigue with married local Lizzie (Katherine Parkinson). As ever, there’s a bit of politics, a lot of sex, and a good dollop of sexual politics.
Adapted from the books by the late Jilly Cooper, Rivals took her impish hero, Rupert, and saw him steered towards domesticity, like Alexander taming Bucephalus. But despite the apparent consummation of his affection for Taggie, this new saga represents a hard reset and he’s back to his wild stallion ways. “I won’t break you too,” he tells her, as news of his many affairs and scandals starts to trouble his political ambitions. Really, however, it’s just an excuse to include plenty of thrusting buttocks and heaving bosoms, as Rupert returns to bachelordom, and his neighbours follow his lead. “We can’t all just do what we want Rupert,” Lizzie demurs, yet, sure enough, she’ll soon be dragged back into her own extramarital tangle.
This is Rutshire after all, a Disneyfied, sexed-up version of the Cotswolds. The appeal of Cooper’s books was pure fantasy – the dashing polo player/Tory MP, with the sexual charisma of Don Juan – onto which readers could project themselves. With the TV version, the imagination takes a backseat to Alex Hassell’s smirk, Danny Dyer’s moustache, and Aidan Turner’s arse cheeks. The sex is silly – Declan is pleasantly surprised by a roaming finger in the shower – and never overly explicit, because, at its heart, Rivals is an expensive soap opera. Tension is ramped up (“quite the end-of-series cliffhanger,” Baddingham notes of his head wound, in a meta moment) and then relieved. The plot moves forward and backward in a cha-cha-cha of delayed gratification. Will Venturer win the licence? Will Lizzie finally leave her feckless husband? Will Rupert open his eyes and acknowledge his feelings for Taggie? All of these questions stay pressing and unresolved, because therein the drama lies.
Writer Laura Wade knows that her audience is not looking for reality. This is a hyper-saturated (indeed, the colour palette is, on occasion, a bit much) alternate history of the 1980s. Just as Rutshire is not quite Oxfordshire, so too is its moral framework familiar but different. Concerns about the age gap between Rupert and Taggie have to be dispensed with, while it is, apparently, a sign of good character to cavort with your sidepiece’s kids. Who knew? Because it is such a cartoonish world, the actors feel liberated to have enormous fun.
Particular highlights of this second series include Lisa McGrillis as Val, Freddie’s haplessly vulgar wife, and Claire Rushbrook as the quietly manipulative Lady Baddingham. Joining stars – like Hayley Atwell, as the former Mrs Campbell-Black, and Rupert Everett, as her new husband – slot seamlessly into the ensemble. There is a sense, across the cast, that everyone is enjoying themselves immensely, whether they’re romping on a pony or romping on a staircase.
That’s what makes Rivals such a rare treat in today’s television landscape. It is well-written and well-acted, but it aspires to nothing more than being fun. Real, associable human emotions are kept at arm’s length in favour of stylised bucolic horniness. “You can make television without being a c***,” Declan informs his nemesis. “Not nearly so much fun though, is it?” Baddingham replies. This is a secret that Rivals knows only too well, that, in the words of Wilde again, the “only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it”.
