Hot Labor Summer Continues on The Gilded Age and For All Mankind

On paper, For All Mankind and The Gilded Age don’t have a lot in common. One is a decades-spanning alt-history exploration of the space race on Apple TV+; the other is a lavish HBO historical drama set in the 19th century from Downton Abbey creator Julian Fellowes. But it doesn’t matter if you are the commander of a mining colony on Mars in another version of 2003 or own a Pittsburgh steel mill in 1883; if workers are mistreated, they will organize.

Collective action isn’t only relegated to a TV storyline this year as “strike culture” took hold from Hollywood to the auto industry. It was a summer defined by the overlapping WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes that spilled into fall, with other walkouts hitting medical care, teaching, journalism, and the service industries. A recent New Yorker article notes, “Though union membership is at a historic low, in the past few years, the number of striking workers has reached its highest level in decades.” It is unlikely that Fellowes or For All Mankind showrunners Matt Wolpert and Ben Nedivi predicted quite how topical either work stoppage plot would be in the current climate. Instead, these storylines tap into the cyclical nature of how the wealthy few demand a high return while treating their employees as disposable. How do robber barons and tech companies mining asteroids fare in the fictional version of strikes?

The Gilded Age has upped its game in its sophomore outing, mostly balancing heightened melodrama and grounded character moments. However, there are still occasions when scenes swing wildly from petty drama over a British duke that everyone wants to be their bestie to racist tension in the South. Giving the large ensemble a range of arcs leads to this whiplash, covering everything from the season-long opera wars to George Russell’s (Morgan Spector) union woes. Even George switches between strategizing to stop the strikes and negotiating an opera box for his wife Bertha (Carrie Coon) at the drop of a top hat.

It can be hard to catch your breath when Fellowes burns through storylines at such a rapid pace, such as the swift wooing-to-wed-to-dead arc for Ada Brook (Cynthia Nixon) and Reverend Luke Forte (Robert Sean Leonard). In contrast, the threat of labor action is the rare storyline bubbling beneath the surface for most of the season. Nevertheless, while building to the moment workers stand on the picket line is slow, the resolution is swift.

Making George our entry point underscores how his cutthroat nature has taken him to the top. It also shows the other like-minded, mostly white-haired factory owners who care more about their profit margins than a safe environment for their workers. “They want an eight-hour work day, for God’s sake,” laments one comically outraged man.

Watching George’s attempts to union bust has been a fascinating lesson in the line between repulsion and charm. Of course, the sympathy is with the workers, but it is almost impossible not to be sucked into George’s alluring gaze even when he flexes his nefarious plans. Plus, Fellowes lets George play the temporary hero when he calls off the armed militia, and it doesn’t turn into the 1892 Homestead strike bloodbath that provides the historical basis for this storyline.

“My moment of tenderness” is how George describes this decision that allows him to lay the foundation of future division. His union-busting tactics should make you forget every nice thing he has done for his wife, yet Spector’s charisma is beguiling. Luckily, union leader Henderson (Darren Goldstein) has more willpower and can read between the lines of George’s long-term plan to pit workers against each other. But because George called off the guns, he accepted the terms. Money couldn’t buy Henderson off, yet he did have a price after all.

With so many different threads, the show paints guest stars in broad brushstrokes, and Henderson’s role is to represent all workers. The Gilded Age might not be the right series to go deeper than it has, but this story is ripe for exploration. The wave of strikes during this era is rampant, with George citing the Great Railway Strike of ’77, which saw the public side with the workers after they came under fire.

Public opinion is a valuable commodity. When a newspaper political cartoon shows George crushing a worker between low wages and foul conditions, it causes him to openly whine, “Why must I be the villain in every story?” While 140 years separate George’s Pittsburgh steel factory and the Happy Valley mining colony on Mars, For All Mankind knows the value of press coverage. Each season jumps significantly ahead of the events of the previous finale (usually around 10 years), and a montage fills in the historical, political, scientific, and pop culture gaps. Season 4’s opening package revealed an agreement known as the Mars 7 Alliance that will govern events on this planet. The M7 includes the USA, USSR, and private tech company Helios. Some of these clips are fun insights into past characters; others are breadcrumbs leading to the main narrative thrust about to unfold.

One newspaper headline dated Friday, October 8th, 1999, reveals JFK Jr. is running for the Senate (in reality, he died in July of that year), then zeroing in on a smaller story on this front page that reads, “Moon Workers Strike Goes Into Second Week.” This strike is referenced in the sixth episode, “Leningrad,” when the Helios workers on Happy Valley discuss the significant difference in leverage they possess over those on the moon who tried to unionize. After all, it only took a couple of days to get replacement workers to Jamestown on the moon, and it will take three months to send scabs to work on Mars.

The moon has been mined for precious materials, and now For All Mankind is digging into asteroids containing high amounts of iridium. Like gold and oil rushes, making substantial sums is only possible with a large workforce. The setting has changed, and the challenge to extract the spoils is higher, but this tale is as old as time, asking low-paid employees to stretch themselves thinner with little or zero additional compensation for their efforts.

Even before labor action is on the table, the Happy Valley colony has similarities to the upstairs-downstairs Gilded Age setup. Revered astronauts, scientists, and pilots live in single-occupancy rooms with a surface view and first-class facilities, including video transmissions that never cut out and chef-prepared meals. Three floors below, the living quarters are cramped with subpar food and video mail that has been out for weeks. Discontent over inequality kicks in when Tom Parker (Mac Brandt) dies on a mission and is considered a footnote; news of the incoming “Goldilocks” asteroid escalates tension further.

It doesn’t help that the mineral-rich object is worth at least $20 trillion, and the Helios employees know they will have to work around the clock with very little concern about their safety — this is already a show with a high body count. There is already a 30 percent increase in accidents, and while it is already risky, Goldilocks is “flat-out dangerous.” Labor organizer Samantha Massey (Tyner Rushing) refers to it as a “recipe for f*cking disaster” because they will get tired, lose focus, and get hurt (or worse).

Like The Gilded Age, For All Mankind juggles multiple storylines and perspectives that don’t always land. Here, the downstairs scenes are hampered by an entirely new cast of characters that don’t hold a candle to the ones we previously lost. It is hard to connect when someone like Miles (Toby Kebbell) is entitled and complains about everything. Massey’s rage is valid but also her only defining trait. Happy Valley’s M7 power structure makes loyalty a slippery concept, as Helios controls the money and the majority of workers tasked with mining the materials.

Across four seasons, For All Mankind has killed off much of its original lineup, and now it is pitting two of the remaining characters against each other. Danielle Poole (Krys Marshall) is in command of Happy Valley and is still part of NASA, whereas the astronaut who was almost the first on the moon, Ed Baldwin (Joel Kinnaman), switched to the private sector last season. Ed’s maverick attitude has gotten him far, but hiding a health issue underscores his arrogance, and he has been removed from flight status. Boredom leads him to the speakeasy bar underground, which is full of people who think he represents everything they are struggling against. But this isn’t George Russell swinging by Henderson’s house for a cup of tea, as Ed’s anger at the powers that be ends gives them a new ally.

Technically, Ed is still the Happy Valley project manager, so he has to sign off on the new pay scale and bonus system. Instead of just signing it, he childishly snatches the clipboard, claiming he wants to review the details. In fact, Ed does read it, and he goes to the belly of the base to tell the riled-up workers, “Y’all are screwed.” Not only is the asteroid getting taken straight to Earth, killing their chance for bonuses, but Helios has also revamped its system. The amount of points they need is higher while the money is lower. Ed shifts the focus back to Massey, telling the workers to listen to her. He suggests they should organize and unionize. Ed also suggests they “shut this place down,” which leads to the masses chanting this word. Only a few episodes ago, he was bitching about those interested in coming to Mars to make money, and now he is playing chief strike whisper. His motivations are not altruistic, and his antagonistic streak continues.

The workers are right to be furious at Helios, but Ed uses his grievance against Dani to stir the proverbial pot. It is messy on Mars in the divide between corporate greed, scientific advancement, and workers' rights. Throw in deep-rooted resentment, ego, and trauma, and it is a tinderbox waiting to explode. For All Mankind offers a layered that is mostly absent from the two clear sides debate in The Gilded Age. In part, the Apple TV+ show digs deeper because this storyline splinters in various directions, whereas the steelworker's strike mostly plays out as a sideshow to the opera plot. While the resolution appears swift, turning George into a pariah in his robber baron community (they must make minimal improvements, too) is an unexpected development.

This dangling thread is left unresolved, leaving room to explore further. It also remains to be seen how the strike on Mars will play out (and how quickly), but labor action is a hot topic, no matter the year or what planet you work on.

Emma Fraser has wanted to write about TV since she first watched My So-Called Life in the mid-90s, finally getting her wish over a decade later. Follow her on Twitter at @frazbelina.