The Confessions Of Frannie Langton Review: Gothic Romance With A Twist

On the surface, The Confessions of Frannie Langton feels like a traditional British gothic drama.

However, like its heroine, there is so much going on underneath -- layers of richness and complexity that reveal themselves gradually.

The show doesn’t shy away from its darkest themes, and the strongest aspect (though there are many) is the deeply authentic voice of the main character.

Sara Collins, the author of the novel on which the show is based, was born in Jamaica and attended boarding school in London.

Her unique experience grounds Frannie and her story in a way that feels dangerously real. Collins was intrinsically involved in creating and writing this show, helping to ensure that Frannie’s story remained solid and unwavering.

It is vital to have a leading lady who can carry the weight of this extraordinary story. Luckily, Karla-Simone Spence is more than up to the task.

Her Frannie is quietly confident and intelligent, seething with rage and longing. Spence deftly communicates Frannie’s inner world with subtle body language, breath, and eye movement.

She portrays many feelings, sometimes simultaneously -- anger, frustration, love, lust -- on top of an unambiguous representation of who she is. The audience is forced to empathize and feels those feelings along with her.

Spence is aided by a solid supporting cast.

Sophie Cookson’s Marguerite could easily be one-note. She does come across as somewhat vain and shallow initially, but as she reveals her true nature to Frannie (and us), we can’t help but sympathize.

Her character is a tragic gothic heroine, and some of the reveals in the final episode are genuinely disturbing.

Other standouts in the cast include Jodhi May as Hepzibah, whose motivations grow clearer as the series continues, has a tremendous arc that runs a gamut of crystal-clear emotions.

Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn is wonderful in a strong, subdued performance as Sal, Frannie’s friend and confidante.

Patrick Martins’s character is a terrific counterpart for Spence’s Frannie, and their dynamic of uneasy solidarity was refreshing in how nuanced it was.

Sometimes the pacing feels slightly off. The first episode is slow to build, and the final episode feels somewhat rushed, given all the information being thrown at us.

It’s only four episodes long, though, so it’s worth investing time in. It might have been served better to add just one more episode. It would have given us more breathing room near the end to truly explore the richness of the themes and characters.

Still, it's an impressive production. There is so much to appeciate here. This show portrays sapphic romance, addiction (and detox), mental illness, sex work, and racial politics of the time without feeling muddled or preachy.

Something that sets The Confessions Of Frannie Langton apart is its positive representation of sex work.

The women here support each other and have found a way to make the patriarchal system work for them. They are in control of their bodies and empowered by their profession, not denigrated by it.

It doesn’t take up much time in the story but makes an impact. It shows that, though sex work is often portrayed as something for only the most desperate, destitute women, it doesn’t always have to be that way.

The intimate scenes themselves are beautifully done. Director Andrea Harkin has a sensitive touch has a uniquely feminist lens, and it shows.

The portrayal of the sex is as reverential as it is to Frannie herself. Though the characters have an uneven power dynamic, it doesn’t feel exploitative. It’s clearly mutual. There is heat but delicacy.

The flashback style means we get two stories interwoven throughout the four episodes. As the imprisoned Frannie writes her confessions, we see how her journey with Langton and the Benhams led her to where she is now.

It's a contrast of light and dark, reminding us that Frannie was a beacon that could have flourished in a world that recognized her brilliance.

The final episode is a riveting courtroom drama where everything comes to light. It’s a strong conclusion overall, though with all the information and reveals, a lot is going on.

It’s slightly messy, with all the pieces never fully gelling as they ought to. There is some soapboxing, but it’s forgivable because it’s frustratingly justified.

Frannie’s character evolves significantly as the truth of her past comes to light, but through it all, she remains sympathetic.

The solving of the murders that kick off the first episode is devastating. The culprit may be surprising to some and predictable to others, but I didn’t see it coming.

It’s riveting to see Black characters exist together in this period and setting in a way that feels starkly, brutally truthful.

There’s no alternate-universing like Bridgerton, where all ethnicities are accepted without prejudice, a gorgeous fantasy version of this era and world (for the record, I absolutely love Bridgerton, and that’s one of the reasons why).

However, this is a world that is in line with our own. Black people did exist in Georgian London, but this is how it would have been for them.

They were considered subhuman and had to be shrewd to figure out how they would carve out their place to thrive in a society that was hostile to them.

Bridgerton is still ground-breaking, but it feels fluffy compared to the more sophisticated and dense fare here.

Though Frannie herself isn’t real, the injustice she experiences feel well within the scope of possibility, given the way the justice system routinely continues to unfairly target BIPOC.

The Confessions of Frannie Langton truly has modern sensibilities, but in a way that feels authentic to the period, which is a rare blend and a difficult task to master.

It’s tragic without feeling like trauma porn. It uplifts the voice of a Black woman but refuses to wash away the ugliness of the era and the treatment of visible minorities.

Frannie has made her choices, and though she is stuck in a world that upholds the straight white man -- everything she is not -- she forces others to see her as a person and never loses her humanity.

Frannie is unafraid of speaking her truth, for what does she have to lose?

The Confessions Of Frannie Langton is a welcome addition to the canon of British gothic drama. It offers a unique, realistic perspective that feels so lacking in stories of this era.

It’s rife with representation but doesn’t feel pandering. It may not end happily, but that also feels historically accurate.

The Confessions Of Frannie Langton will be available on BritBox in the US and Canada on March 8, 2023. Watch the trailer here: