On the water’s edge in Newport, R.I., sit an Italian palazzo, a French chateau, a Chinese tea house and a Gothic Revival cottage. All seem to both claim association with a tradition older than themselves and assert their individuality at the same time. At a distance from this gorgeous yet eclectic grouping, I couldn’t help but wonder whether this was an architectural metaphor for the United States.

I had come to see the filming location of HBO’s “The Gilded Age,” the residences in Newport once home to the Vanderbilts and other ultra-wealthy American families. They did not disappoint. My family and I wondered in awe at Tiffany glass skylights, a heart-shaped spiral staircase, original portraits by John Singer Sargent, a children’s play cottage the size of a single-family home, a ballroom modeled after the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. Every ornate decoration teases a story to be told, which is perhaps why it’s no surprise that these homes are practically characters themselves in HBO’s “The Gilded Age.” 

The show, whose fourth season is set to air this fall, follows the private lives of New York’s elite families (some fictional, some historical), who once lived in these mansions during the opulence of the 1880s. 

The series, written by Julian Fellowes of “Downton Abbey” fame, garnered eight Emmy nominations for its third season, including Outstanding Drama Series, Outstanding Period Drama and Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series (Carrie Coon). 

In the first season, viewers meet Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson), who arrives in New York City from Pennsylvania to live with her aunts, Agnes and Ada van Rhijn (Christine Baranski, Cynthia Nixon), who come from an old money family. Their new neighbors, George and Bertha Russell (Morgan Spector, Carrie Coon, playing roles largely thought to be inspired by Jay Gould and Alva Vanderbilt), possessors of a new railroad fortune, move in with ostentatious plans to integrate into high society.

The first three seasons follow the Russells in their uniquely American struggle: that of the newcomer searching for belonging and acceptance. What particularly shines is the relationship portrayed by Spector and Coon; the Russells enter the first season both fiercely ambitious and madly in love. As the demands of the railroad industry and New York high society ramp up, both passions are tested. 

The show approaches this subject with admirable nuance; in depicting a time where men and women were relegated to different spheres of society, “The Gilded Age” portrays the ambitions of both George and Bertha as equally demanding and morally complex pursuits. George sometimes considers Bertha’s social climbing ambitions to be silly or unimportant, but the show’s writing and Coon’s fierce portrayal acknowledge that this was one of few outlets for an ambitious woman of the time and demonstrate how her ambitious social maneuvering often supported her family’s wellbeing without shying away from the more negative consequences.

Like Fellowes’s “Downton Abbey,” the monumental decade in which “The Gilded Age” is set is explored from many perspectives. The storylines are as numerous as the decorations in the series’s opulently filled sets. As a counterpoint to the Russells plotline, viewers also witness how the old establishment families like the van Rhijns and the Astors cope with the changes of modernity and struggle to keep their place in the new order. Viewers also get a window into Black American life at the turn of the century in the story of Peggy Scott (Denée Benton), a young Black woman from a prosperous upper middle class family, as she pursues her dream of becoming a writer and encounters romance. 

Nor does the show limit its scope to the lives of the elite. As in “Downton Abbey,” the staff and servants of the households are equally important characters. For example, the second season follows the footman Jack Trotter (Ben Ahlers) as he dips his feet into the patent boom after inventing an alarm clock.

One of the most enjoyable parts of the show is the way it incorporates historical events into the plotlines. Watching the illumination of the first New York building with electric lighting and the opening of the Brooklyn Bridge alongside the Russells and their peers, I found a new appreciation for just how revolutionary these changes were at the time. These details do not just appear in the background. For example, viewers follow Emily Warren Roebling, wife of the Brooklyn Bridge’s architect, as she becomes the unsung savior of the project following her husband’s illness. 

Similarly, the show does not shy away from the uglier side of the Gilded Age. While reporting on the opening of a new dormitory at the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama, Peggy witnesses racial violence in the Jim Crow South and contemplates differing strategies Black Americans used to fight for equality during the era. As George Russell expands his railroad company, the show highlights abuses of workers rights and strikes for better working conditions. Marian and Peggy get involved in the suffrage movement.

Overall, what makes the show’s portrayal of this pivotal era so rich is that it looks at the time through so many different perspectives. For a self-professed connoisseur of period dramas like me, the series’s attention to elaborate historical costumes (by costume designer Kasia Walicka Maimone) and set designs was in itself an indulgent treat. But perhaps what makes the show both truly immersive while still relevant for today’s viewers is how its characters, like the mansions where the series was filmed, negotiate their identities and search for belonging in a changing world. It is a deeply American struggle.

Chloe Hanford is a summer intern at America Media.