The Cutprice Guignol

I have been waiting for a show like Rivals for so long.

Not because it’s blowing the doors of the medium of television, or anything like that – no, if anything, this adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s novel series embraces its daftness and camp, from the overzealous 80s styling to the overblown interpersonal drama. While the cast is genuinely brilliant (David Tennant! Claire Rushbrook! Aidan Turner! And so on!), none of them are turning in the performances of their careers here, as they navigate the scandalous world of British television, with all the class, race, and gender implications that come with it. No, while I think the show is pretty damn fun for a lot of reasons, the reason I love it is because it is unashamedly and utterly horny.

I write erotica for a living, in case you didn’t know, and I have bemoaned, both on this blog and in real life, far too often about the state of romance and sex in pop culture. Because it’s there, fair enough, but so much of it is so completely and utterly chemistry-free, joyless, and unconvincing that it might as well not be. So much of romance and especially sex in pop culture seems to consist of two conventionally attractive people mashing their lips on each other until the BBFC steps in to make sure that the woman isn’t reaching orgasm, and then calling it a day.

But, as an adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s enormously horny novels (who amongst us didn’t see one of those vaguely suggestive covers featuring a pair of be-jodphured legs and a title like “Riding Hard” and get some confusing feelings about it, after all?), Rivals is anything but that. It’s a show that centres sex to an almost comical degree – there’s barely a twenty-minute stretch where someone is touching someone else’s bits – but that does it in a way that I haven’t seen in way too long in a mainstream show like this.

Rivals’ approach to sex is one of both curiosity and a genuine commitment to just having a bloody good time – the way all good sex should be approached, as far as I’m concerned. There are a myriad of sexual dynamics on display here, from Aidan Turner’s toxic cuck partnership with his wife, to a simmering romance between a never-better Katherine Parkinson and Danny Dyer (fresh from Henpocalypse!), and the show approaches them all with the same level of curiosity. With sex being such a taboo topic, it’s rare to see something approach the topic with such a diversity of experience. As someone who genuinely finds sex really interesting, it’s great to see a show that approaches it with the same curiosity I feel for the subject.

And, on top of it all, Rivals is here for a bloody good time. Sex isn’t limited to people who look a certain way, it doesn’t dodge the inherent humour or silliness that underpins so much of human sexuality, it isn’t trying to arrange itself just-so to make sure its stomach doesn’t look saggy in this light: it’s unashamedly horny and hot in a way that feels decidedly more real than so many other pieces of pop culture that take on this topic.

It might be ridiculous, but Rivals is a show that is fascinated by and genuinely enjoys a good old-fashioned roll in the hay. What did you think of the show? How did you find its approach to sex and sexuality? Let me know in the comments!

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(header image via Guardian)