When Apple TV+ announced The Buccaneers, viewers braced themselves for a Regency romance that would rival Bridgerton. Well, dear readers, this romp does boast swoon-worthy dukes, lavish balls and a wardrobe to die for, but true love – the unwavering, heat-racing, bane-of-my-existence kind – is found in female friendship.

Series creator Katherine Jakeways hurtles us into a world of pink poodles and plush extravagance, as our girl gang assembles for Conchita’s (Alisha Boe) wedding day to a handsome British lord. From the off, it’s clear this series isn’t about romantic love, as the bride raises a champagne toast to her bridesmaids who will “always come first”.

Shrouded in an infectious giddiness, these women confide in each other, dance together at weddings and leap into the same bed at the end of the day, to tease one another with a genuine sisterly affection.

However, this beautiful bubble begins to burst when the daughters of America’s new money arrive to be presented in London’s season. Arm in arm they descend on the stiff-upper-lip society with one goal: to find themselves a rich husband with an impressive title.

Nan (Kristine Froseth) has the misfortune of overhearing men degrading and objectifying her friends as they’re paraded like “cattle” to the prospective gentlemen. Enraged by their remarks, Nan stands up for her friends who are “funny and smart human beings” and deserve to be treated as such.

This chivalrous and improper outburst is one of many demonstrations that no rules or social expectations will prevent these women from expressing their instinct to defend each other.

Though Nan has no interest in finding a suitor, her unmarried friends are desperate to secure a lucrative and stable future, whatever the cost. Swiftly the “whirlwind of fun” that surrounds them dissipates, as they attempt to fit in with the “other species” of women, the reserved, quiet, embroidery-loving English girls, that are more palatable to British men.   

Jinny (Imogen Waterhouse), who has always been defined by her staggering beauty, descends into ugliness of underhand behaviours, as she suffers with the pressure to ‘find a husband’ in this competitive environment. Her first fatal sting is letting slip to Nan that they are only half-sisters, as their father had an affair with another woman, who is Nan’s mother.

The most rational member of the group – our informal leader, Nan – is then shipped away after Jinny suggests that she is distracting potential partners away from her by being “funny and smart”. Ironically, Nan spends a delightful month on the Cornish coast, cooped up from London’s eligible bachelors, and still manages to accidentally bag herself the richest man in England, Theo aka the Duke of Cornwall (Guy Remmers).

Later, Jinny turns her poisonous tongue towards Lizzie (Aubri Ibrag), who after Nan is the next closest thing to a sister. The duo are pitted against each other to win over the disgusting “monster” dressed as a gentleman, James (Barney Fishwick), Jinny tells Lizzie that his decision will depend on “whether he’s interested in beauty and charm or whatever it is that [she’s] offering”. 

Within a matter of weeks, the trust and respect these friends have established over decades (we assume), has crumbled into an age-old rivalry as they battle for men’s affection.

The genuine concern they have always shared for each other is set to one side, and any warnings about their fiancé’s problematic behaviour (especially from Lizzie to Jinny) are viewed as a jealous attempt to sabotage their friend’s happiness. In a Pride And Prejudice fashion, it seems the true threat to female friendship is when they are viewed as rivals to men.

After the dust settles on these new romances, the women gravitate back to each other, reiterating that their “friendship comes first” before their marriage to men who expect them to shrink their loud, complicated personalities. Qualms are set to one side, as it seems the only way for any of them to survive the new role as dedicated wives in repressive 1870s England is to let their true selves out with their friends. It’s the only time there’s no expectation for them to behave in a certain way, where they can exist in their wild raw form without judgment.

To play their part, these women have to rely on each other to sustain their “light” in this compromised half-state where they find themselves in marriage. Conchita tells Nan: “If we all got what we wanted, I’d be in New York with a house full of men and cream.” Instead, she settles for an “unchaperoned” weekend with her girls, as it’s enough of a tonic to keep her sane when faced with the alternative of the stifling silence at her husband’s house.

Sisterly love between friends is an enduring form of love in the series. The girls don’t try to change each other or themselves to be accepted by their friends. It leads to brutal arguments and brief periods of them not talking to each other, but they always come back to each other. They embrace and accept each other in their loud, raw, ridiculous form, as true friends always do.

The Buccaneers shows that regardless of what is said or done, true friendship is grounded in an unconditional love that triumphs over marriage, petty conflicts and even the biggest of secrets and betrayals. 

Images: Apple TV+