
I thought you'd enjoy the amount of plaid in this photograph. This show's commitment to Scottish knits is correct and admirable.

I cannot believe Morgan skipped over Anne foiling her own kidnapping AND her meeting and marrying Mark Phillips, in favor of a half-baked C plot last week about whether she still wants to be an equestrian. LAME. Anyway, we're here because poor Mark "Doesn't Merit a Story" Phillips is sitting there with his hands on her chair, holding it out, patiently waiting for her to sit in it so he can scoot it in again. Which she does without even a glance. She just knows it will happen.

This is one of those symmetrical shots The Crown loves, but for one thing: There is only one stag head, and by jove, by the end of the hour there WILL be a mate across the way.

This scene is so awkward. Diana comments that she loved the opera because Verdi is so romantic, and glances meaningfully at her date, and Charles obliviously mansplains to her all the deeper meanings to Verdi's work. "Gosh. Really?" she gushes, breathily. Conversation over. Her green opera-date gown is almost not '80s enough to be believed.

Emma Corrin absolutely nailed Diana's posture in this shot. She plays her with a bit more built-in savvy, I think? And I wonder how much of that is just that Corrin herself is 24 and Diana was 18, so it's just there whether she wants it to be or not.

This was very bare, though. I have a hard time imagining a girl being chaperoned by her grandmother -- and forbidden to sit next to her date -- would also be allowed to wear a dress with a back that revealing. Nonetheless, she and Charles are planning to reconnect after the summer, and with one last lingering look and coy smile...

... we get THE STAAAG. Crossing the river! He's on the Queen's turf now!!! DO YOU FEEL IT???

Thatcher gets not one, but two shots of herself staring into a three-sided mirror, because Peter Morgan likes for women to be contemplating their appearance while also maybe thinking about something else, but who knows.

Margaret's first photo with her government features her standing out, by dint of her hair, but only vaguely. It's all very muddy and staid.

This show also likes to smack you over the head with Thatcher's traditional ideals. Yes, she was the first PM, but gosh darnit, it's a WIFE'S JOB to unpack her own husband's suitcase. She also didn't want them sleeping in separate beds, for fear that one night apart would lead to all of them that way. I have not read that Maggie and Denis had history's great love affair, but he seems like a good-humored companion.

Well, Margaret looks smashing, but that's not the point. She and Denis had fretted about whether about whether "drinks at 6" before a black-tie dinner means coming in black tie to the drinks as well, and they decide yes. So they wander downstairs all togged up, apparently not having thought to ring the staff and ask THEM what to do?!? NO ONE ASKS THINGS. Had they, perhaps someone would have said, "Oh, they're not back from the stalking yet," or, "They'll be taking tea, come down in a kilt."

This is ABSOLUTELY not the welcome you want. The entire room fell into a stony silence. The Queen Mum sort of gasps, "What on earth is she doing?" Trying to make us feel sorry for Margaret Thatcher is quite a choice.

This is exactly how dinner begins at my house! What a fun coincidence.

This ridiculous parlor game involves stamping your face with a singed cork if you botch the wording, and is intended to be played until everyone is sozzled and can't speak. It's batshit and I suspect a LOT of people who are in lockdown with a cohort will be trying it this winter. Look for the thinkpiece on Vulture, "I Ibble Dibbled and All I Got Was a Faceful of Soot."

I find Anderson's Thatcher voice and demeanor to be verging on parody, unintentionally (I read an article on Decider about how Thatcher changed her own voice as she advanced in politics so that it would sound deeper and more authoritative, and that the hoarseness here only came later in her career), and it's occasionally absolutely agonizing. But her taking her sweet-ass time to choke out the Ibble Dibble words really was funny.

Lest you think Elizabeth didn't spend some time staring into a mirror. Philip is being cranky about how he believes Margaret is stuffy and doesn't know how to have any fun; Elizabeth thinks perhaps she is simply nervous. This is basically the only insight we get at all into how Elizabeth might perceive anything about this situation.

Maggie then is obliged to join the Queen on the hunt, but this is all she has. The Queen conveniently has a pair of boots for her but nobody could loan her an anorak or something?!? Before she manages to bail, she and the Queen talk about Margaret's humble beginnings as the daughter of an alderman, and it's one of the most excruciating exchanges because I seriously think Gillian's throat must have been raw.

Margaret is also back at the house, somehow, looking like Bellatrix Lestrange in hiding.

I don't know WHAT Thatcher's problem is. I genuinely want to watch men hurl giant sticks.

We have so few formal hats in this episode that I had to show you these.

Elizabeth and Margaret watch Thatcher leave, noting that she's the first PM ever to hate it there and bolt early. Elizabeth, with a wry twitch of the lip, wonders if perhaps they weren't very friendly. Margaret hilariously feigns innocence: "I positively gushed." So for all the talk of the Balmoral tests, WERE there any, or was Balmoral ITSELF the test? I am assuming the latter, but the way the episode set it up, I was expecting pranks or something.

Diana, in contrast, arrives in full-on posh country gear. They would probably tell her she looked sloppy if they didn't know she was Of The Manor Born and therefore rocking upper-crust shabby.

She gets this fairly innocent and frumpy tartan for dinner, at which everyone is delighted by her.

CUT TO THE STAG! THE STAAAAG, perched on a rock, under the moon, relishing its last moment before the deal is done!!!! CAN YOU TASTE IT.

Diana and Philip have a lovely old time, as he asks her about her job cleaning her sister Sarah's house (it pays badly but she enjoys ironing), and he claims to find this fascinating. They have a very easy rapport. Diana always looked so unsure of herself in public early on that it's easy to imagine she was that way with the family, too, but this seems to argue she was actually pretty adept with them.

"Can't we get closer?" Diana wonders. "No. We'll never have another shot," Philip says, before Diana helps him take an accurate one. CAN YOU SMELLLLL WHAT THE STAG. IS. COOKING.

She is so tickled by their success that for a second I thought she was going to lean her cheek on Philip's shoulder.

When they return, bedraggled, and Diana does not complain and even gives Philip full credit for their success, Philip's eyes go to Charles. Later he tells Camilla on the phone that no one has ever done better at The Balmoral Test than Diana, and indeed, they want her to marry him. Camilla seems deflated. Is... this not what you were JUST suggesting to him, Camz? I guess perhaps she never thought Charles would actually do it.

This is the worst and most awkward farewell, in the worst and most awkward sweater. Charles basically pats her on the arm and is like, "Good sport, old chum," and heads back inside. Even Diana is like, "... what now?" for a fleeting moment before waving properly.

And lest you think Elizabeth didn't observe people's feelings from a great distance and through a window: She totally did.

That dress is ghastly. This scene was funny: Liz and Maggie are basically being snitty to each other about Balmoral, with Liz saying she never quite understands people who don't absolutely love it there, and Margaret airily saying that she axed all her cabinet members because they were all brought up insanely privileged and therefore lacked grit. Message received, and Liz does not care for it. She cautions against assuming the privileged lack grit, and against making enemies...

... to which Margaret, in her assertive blouse and giant hair, replies that she's not afraid of enemies. And then, as if she knew from some kind of script that this remark was going to be posed to her, she recites from memory all ten lines of the Charles Mackay poem "No Enemies." Although her delivery takes so long, it's more like forty lines.

And her new cabinet photo is more forceful. She stands out.

Y'all, I think that's crooked.

And now that the stag has been shot, it can live in perpetuity here, staring blankly at the mate which is returning its empty gaze. METAPHORRRRR.
