The Buccaneers (2023)

We’re left with a group coming-of-age adventure, something that feels as if it could easily be set, instead, on an undergrad semester abroad, in 2023. And yet—the romance is compelling, and the wisteria is wisteria. I watched all eight episodes of the series in a white heat, and I am ready for more.

The series calms down as it goes, growing in storytelling confidence and laying off its inner “Gossip Girl,” and the production design is first-rate, from a garden maze made out of hedges to scenes at a massive country estate during Christmas.

It is also largely a romcom rather than a fully Whartonly astute piece of social and proto-feminist commentary. But we are allowed some nonsense now and again, and there is nothing more joyfully restorative than when it is done as well as it is here. It is enormous fun without being unresonant with today’s concerns.

Though the performances overall can sometimes be a bit rough due to such a casual, modern approach to dialogue, “The Buccaneers” prevails with its equally giddy and righteous depiction of women realizing high society isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

Ms. Frøseth, who carries most of the dramatic weight of "The Buccaneers," and whose character is most divorced from the marriage-minded obsessions of her fellow New Yorkers, is first-rate, as are Josie Totah and Aubri Ibrag as Mabel and Lizzy Elmsworth, the members of the female quintet that comes to conquer Great Britain.

If the Netflix drama was a blushing bride dreaming of happily ever after, The Buccaneers might be her worldlier cousin — more skeptical and more pragmatic, but with an intriguing sharpness that feels all her own.

Taken on its own terms and not as an adaptation, "The Buccaneers" is a well-turned object, pretty to look at and evidently expensive. ..... As a drama it comprises a busy, somewhat tiring eight hours as it veers hither and yon — there is a lot of veering — and characters fall out of and back into accord with remarkable speed and regularity, to keep things interesting.

The Buccaneers is still incredibly watchable. The characters are endearing, the story never drags, and, despite the tropes, it often chooses to zag where we might expect it to zig (especially in its heart-shattering finale).

While The Buccaneers also explores matters of race, it mainly focuses on these young American women overcoming sexual assault, violence, and humiliation from a horde of royal elites. Ultimately, it’s a feminist manifesto for girls eager to find love and adventure, free of the restraints of traditional society. But particularly, it’s that scene in the opening episode where five gals clink their glasses ahead of Conchita’s wedding that resonates the most: We always come first.

The Buccaneers has its flaws, but those flaws become easier to forgive the more you spend time with it and realize it knows exactly what it is and isn't afraid to show it.

A frenzied and delightful examination of the culture clash between American and British aristocracy. It also showcases how women have always sought to save themselves and each other while lacking societal powers or autonomy.

Purists might recoil at the soundtrack, the slang and the sexiness, but all in all this is a fabulous way to reintroduce Wharton to the world. Especially when compared to Julian Fellowes’s lavish but dreadfully dull The Gilded Age, here is a period drama that has managed to hit the sweet spot between modern whimsy and actual intellect.

Romance isn't the main objective, even if the series might flirt with it on occasion by incorporating a range of scenes from hands subtly, illicitly touching to characters falling into each other's arms with passionate abandon. Instead, the finishing touches here are more realistic, and often more cynical, but whether they'll leave a sour taste in the mouth depends entirely on what viewers are hoping to see from the story itself.