sees an all-new cast take the stage, with Olivia Colman reprising the role of Queen Elizabeth II and Helena Bonham Carter taking over as Princess Margaret. They are both the main focus of the show’s third trip ‘round the sun, with the addition of Josh O’Connor as Prince Charles (who won an Emmy for his brilliant turn in the role). Each character helps embody a sort of narrative triangulation around the season’s main themes. The first is the queen, who is slowly losing control of both her children and her country. The second is Princess Margaret, who is rapidly losing her autonomy at the behest of the Establishment. The third is Prince Charles, who is slowly becoming aware that he’s a crossbreed between his mother and his aunt, unable to reconcile the heart's needs with the needs of the Commonwealth. Through the POV of Elizabeth, Margaret, and Charles, the third season’s job is both simple and yet extremely daunting: to set the stage for the emergence of Princess Diana.

Season Three swaps Matthew Goode for Ben Daniels to portray Antony Armstrong-Jones or Tony, husband of Princess Margaret. Since Season Two, the man has gone from a portraitist to the 1st Earl of Snowden and been named Constable of Caernarfon Castle in Gwynedd, Wales. When we first find Tony in Season Three, he abandons plans with Margaret to “take photos of election day” against the backdrop of Ned Miller’s “From a Jack to a King.” Without any clue where he’d headed, the obvious assumption is that he’s en route to some sort of infidelity.

While Tony galivants around town, Margaret obsessively pounds the door to his work shed as the lyrics ensue. 

I played an Ace, and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart / With no regret I stacked the cards last night / And lady luck played her hand just right

. The message is clear as day. Tony played Princess Margaret for her status, money, and palaces. This begs the uncomfortable question: If Tony went from a Jack to a King by marrying Margaret, then what did Margaret go to? Aside from going from single to married?

Feeling as though she’s failed to share the spotlight with her sister, Elizabeth tasks Margaret with going to D.C. to charm President Lydon B. Johnson into giving the UK a financial bailout. Thrilled at the notion of being given a purpose, Margaret thrives as she tours the United States in a montage set against “When You’re Smiling (The World Smiles with You)” by Billie Holiday. The episode is titled 

the term newspapers coined for studying the princess’s every move. To see Margaret thrive as a character is extremely refreshing since, up til now, we’ve only seen her ripped away from lovers, get cheated on, or develop a smoking addiction. To see her making a room full of people laugh, being photographed in a bubbly bathtub, or memorizing a guest list for an important dinner reminds the audience of how important one’s 

is. “Having no role,” Margaret laments, “having nothing to do is… soul-destroying.”

At the end of the episode, however, things revert back to how they were. Even though Margaret successfully convinces Johnson to help with the bailout, Elizabeth refuses to give her sister any more royal duties because, on some level, the queen is incapable of sharing the spotlight with anyone who exudes more charisma than herself – as exemplified previously in Season Two’s episode, 

Though this is not a licensed track, a piece of music from the season’s score titled 

deserves an honorable mention. It was composed by Martin Phipps, who composed the music for seasons Three through Six of the show. (Run, don’t walk, to one of his four 

is the fifth song on the 3rd season’s soundtrack, and it hits hard. Composed to be set against the backdrop of the Aberfan disaster 1966, this six-minute choral sweep exudes the pain of tragedy with a hint of divine intervention. Though it appears several times in this episode, the 

theme recurs constantly throughout the entire series from this point on. It is even sampled (and remixed) to accompany the very last shot of the entire series – but more on that later! In the episode, a landslide destroys a schoolhouse at the base of a mining town and kills everyone inside. It’s a horrific story that prompts nearly every character to burst into tears at one point or another – except Elizabeth. Scrutinized for her delayed response to the tragedy, both in the show and in life, Elizabeth finds herself unable to cry at the thought of the Aberfan children. It isn’t until she’s alone, in the confines of her bedchambers, that the 

score builds to a crescendo, and a single tear rolls down the monarch’s face.

Episode Five sees a character yet to be discussed in this blog series, Lord Mountbatten. His positioning in the show is confusing but put quite plainly, he is Prince Philip’s uncle. (Lord Mountbatten and Princess Alice of Battenberg, Philip’s mother, are brother and sister.) The depiction of him in the show is quite tame and demure compared to the accusations made against him in real life. Nevertheless, Lord Mountbatten is removed from his post as Chief of the Defence at the Naval Academy in Greenwich at the start of Episode Five. At this point in the narrative, he’s perceived as a symbol of erudite, unearned privilege and is therefore demoted under the order of Harold Wilson, the Prime Minister. As Mountbatten retires from the Ministry of Defence, his comrades sing a booming version of “Auld Lang Syne” by Robert Burns. The title translates directly to “times long gone,” and it has become all too apparent that Mountbatten is entirely from another era, for at the end of the episode, he joins his sister (Princess Alice) for a brief talk. There, she tells him that if you’re lucky enough to turn seventy, your job as a person is to stay out of the way.

In anticipation of his investiture, during which he’ll be crowned the Prince of Wales, Charles is sent to Aberystwyth University to study Welsh under a professor called Edward Glynne Millward. Ripped away from his studies at Cambridge, Charles is greeted by a warm welcome from everyone at Aberystwyth except Millward. The professor is a staunch republic nationalist who perceives the title of Prince of Wales to be nothing more than “a princehood imposed upon us illegitimately by an imperial conquest.” And yet, the two must work together so that Charles can deliver his investiture speech in Welsh on the 1st of July, 1969. (Ironically enough, July 1st is also the birthday of Charles’s future wife, Princess Diana, who is only eight years old when this occurs.) Charles gives his speech at Caernarfon Castle of Snowdonia, a medieval fortress where the title of the Prince of Wales was first bestowed upon Edward II, son of Edward I. The title had originally been bestowed upon the King of Gwynedd, a true son of Wales called Llewelyn ap Gruffudd, by King Henry III in 1255. Henry’s son Edward then stripped Gruffudd of the title and bestowed it upon his own son, Edward II, at the gates of Caernarfon Castle in 1301. This was 

moment in history when the title of Prince of Wales changed hands forever. No longer a title of power for Welsh natives and royalty, it belonged to the British Royal Family. The episode ends with a song called “Carlo” by Dafydd Iwan that plays behind the end credits. It’s an anti-investiture ballad (written and performed in Welsh) from the same year of Charles’s investiture, and the lyrics describe a yearning for the people of Wales to get away from “my little friend who lives in Buckingham Palace.”

introduces us to two new characters: Camilla Shand and Andrew Parker Bowels. Sound familiar? It should. They’re a young, aristocratic couple on the rocks who have their eyes set on royalty far more than each other. At the beginning of the episode, Camilla leaves Andrew Parker Bowels to attend the amalgamation ball himself as punishment for cheating on her with a woman named Ginny. While at the ball, Andrew’s friend introduces him to Princess Anne, the only daughter of Queen Elizabeth II. She’s a tough, headstrong member of the Royal Family with no time for anybody’s funny business – except perhaps Captain Andrew Parker Bowles. The duo flirt in a ballroom full of people as “Trouble in Mind” by Humphrey Lyttleton and His Band hums in the background. Anne admits that she’s spent her fair share of time “gawping” at Bowles on the polo field, and just as their flirtation hits its crescendo, the filmmakers smash cut to the next morning, where we find the two of them naked in bed. With Princess Anne, Ginny, and Camilla Shand under his belt, it appears as though trouble is most definitely on somebody’s mind – if not several somebodies.

While Andrew focuses his attention on Princess Anne, Camilla Shand shifts her focus to Anne’s brother of all people, Prince Charles. She makes her move on the polo field, cheering too loudly for the Princes of Wales in front of his entire family. They scowl at her public advances and quickly become determined to put an end to Camilla’s flirtation. This takes some scheming on behalf of the family members, namely the Queen Mother, who yearns to throw Camilla Shand to the curb in favor of someone suitable to hold the title of Queen of England. Nevertheless, Camilla manages to score a one-on-one date with the future king at Buckingham Palace, and the two enjoy a private dinner set against “Beggin’” by Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons. Between rejecting Andrew, letting him sleep with Princess Anne, and attending Charles’s polo match, it’s clear that Camilla Shand is simply begging the prince to take notice of her. 

I played it hard and fast, ‘cause I had everything / I walked away, but you warned me then / But easy come, and easy go, and it would end

Later on, Princess Anne approaches her brother, Charles, about the situation. “Just make sure things remain the right way around,” she says. “Us playing with Camilla and Andrew. Not them playing with us.”

Summoned to a meeting at Buckingham Palace, Princess Anne drives her car through the gates while singing along to “Starman” by David Bowie. It’s a song about the next generation, children who want to be set free, boogie, and party. This mirrors the mindset of Princess Anne, Prince Charles, Captain Parker Bowles, and Camilla Shand as they engage in their love square (as opposed to a triangle). Upon arrival at Buckingham Palace, Anne is ambushed by senior members of the Royal Family who make it clear they’re aware that she and her brother are romantically involved with the same couple. All they want now is a confirmation of the facts, which Anne provides them as dispassionately as possible. Outraged by the impropriety of such an affair, the Queen Mother summons the parents of both Andrew Parker Bowles and Camilla Shand to Buckingham Palace, where she insists that Andrew and Camilla marry one another to free Charles and Anne of their imbroglio. In the end, Andrew and Camilla marry, to the delight of the Queen Mother, who observes the wedding, happily smiling from the aisle. Thus, Camilla Shand is converted into the infamous Camilla Parker Bowles, a woman who would go on to do everything in her power to seize control of the British Throne – quite successfully, too, I might add.

focuses almost entirely on Princess Margaret. It’s one of the season’s longer installments, packed to the brim with excellent music moments and some hefty emotional beats. With her relationship with Tony Armstrong-Jones at an all-time low, the princess escapes London to vacation with some friends in Glen. Here, she’s welcomed as a fun, charismatic socialite. She’s the life of the party, a stark contrast to the way Tony sees her—a spoiled, clingy brat who is good for little more than some physical pain and verbal abuse. In Glen, Margaret meets a young man named Roddy Llewelyn, a garden designer and aspiring journalist. It’s then that Margaret uses her status as a princess to sweep the fellow off his feet. In order to place her stamp on him, Margaret buys Roddy a tiny Speedo with the British flag on the crotch. The duo then perform some chamber music (“Red Hot Mama” by the Bronx Sisters and Arthur Johnston) at a piano in front of a room full of people. Margaret sports a boa and a top hat for the small show, proving that, despite her age difference from Roddy, the princess is still one red hot mama.

At the time of production, Helena Bonham Carter (who portrays Princess Margaret) had broken off her relationship with Tim Burton and started dating a man half her age named Rye Dag Holmboe, a PhD candidate in Art History at University College, London. There are several interviews where Bonham Carter talks about how her character’s relationship with a younger man mirrors hers. “It’s strange, though. It was odd timing that I seem to have a similar age gap as her, but I think it would have happened whether I was playing her or not.” The princess takes Roddy to her home in the Caribbean, Les Jolies Eaux, and the duo embark upon a silly and romantic vacation of kissing, water skiing, swimming, and gardening. The entire montage is set against “She’s Not There” by the Zombies. It’s the 

song for this sequence. It answers every question everyone has about Margaret at this point in time. Where is she? Is she on a tour? Is she doing her duties? Is she in London? Is she at Kensington Palace? The answer is nope – she’s not there.

The song fluctuates between soft winds and strings and then loud, overpowering percussion that mirrors rock ‘n roll. It speaks to the peaks and valleys of new love. One second, you’re quietly lying side by side on the beach; the next, you’re globe-trotting with a party full of unfamiliar people. (It’s also a song that probably no one in Buckingham Palace would ever listen to.) Ultimately, the act of simply 

 with Roddy is an act of rebellion against the Crown. Margaret is saying to her sister and the Establishment at large, “You do not and cannot control me.” And yet, as the episode ends, the Crown forces Margaret back to London upon publication of some racy pictures of the princess with Roddy in Mustique. Forced to face the reality of life with her husband, Margaret, and Tony engage in an all-out screaming match that essentially scares Roddy into fleeing the premises altogether. Ultimately, Margaret chases him outside only to find an empty courtyard. The princess then attempts suicide. Upon recovery, she is visited by her sister, the queen.

“Of all the people everywhere, you are the closest and most important to me,” Elizabeth says. “And if by doing this you wanted to let me imagine for one minute what life would be like without you, you succeeded. It would be unbearable.”

“Then we must both carry on,” Margaret replies, unaware that in just eleven years, the queen would replace the princess with her son, Prince Edward, as Counsellor of State, effectively stripping Margaret of her title as a senior member of the Royal Family.

The Best Music Moments from Season Three of The Crown

Few pop stars have withstood the same onslaught of criticism as Ariana Grande. After all, how many singers have we watched fall from bad press, failed relationships, substance abuse, and even acts of violence or terrorism? Quite a few, unfortunately. Avicii, John Lennon, Aaron Carter, Amy Winehouse, Mac Miller, the Miami Showband, etc. The list is regrettably endless.

Which makes it all the more remarkable that Grande has survived not just one maelstrom but several — and they seem to keep coming! More than survived, however, the songstress has obviously found a way to thrive. With two Grammy wins and nine VMAs under her belt, as well as 14 songs that have surpassed a billion streams on Spotify alone, it appears as though literally nothing can take out the legs from beneath this pop diva. Her current era, which includes the rollout of her album 

, sees the four-octave vocalist explore what she describes as a “concept album” where all the music videos are inspired by pre-existing art, movies, and film that have inspired the singer since before she first topped the charts in 2013 with “The Way” featuring Mac Miller. And with the release of 

just around the corner, it feels only fitting that the pop diva be given her due. So, let’s get into it! Here are the top ten movies that inspired Ariana Grande's music videos.

has become a cult classic since its release in 2000. Yeah, you read that right. Twenty-four years ago! Anyway, in the music video, Ariana Grande takes up the role of Kirsten Dunst’s Torrance Shipman as she giddily dances on her bed with some black and red pom poms, mirroring the scene in the film where Kirsten listens to the original song made for her by her crush, “Cliff” portrayed by Jesse Bradford. It’s a cute homage to the feeling of being in love with someone, or in Grande’s case, learning to love yourself.

Everyone wants to be Regina George — even Ariana Grande. Donning a blonde wig and the world-famous burn book, the songstress remembers her various exes while writing (basically) kind things about them on its pages. It’s a subversion of the prop, being converted from something nasty to something nice. What’s more, we see a page devoted to all of her ex-lovers in the song, with the exception of Mac Miller, a Pittsburgh rapper Grande dated from 2016 to 2018, who died in September of that same year. By omitting a page for Mac, it’s as if Grande is saying that talking about him is off-limits — or, at the very least – is not something she’s ready to do. The video is not all sad, though; quite the opposite, in fact, sprinkled with cameos by Troye Sivan, Jonathan Bennett, and Jennifer Coolidge. (Oh, she also got Kris Jenner to play Amy Poehler’s cool mom in the reenactment of the 

scene.) It’s a testament to her pull in Hollywood, for only a true power player could amass such a star-studded ensemble for such a fundamentally brief piece.

Here, we see Ariana Grande portray Jennifer Garner’s character, Jenna Rink, from 

. While singing about her parent’s divorce, Grande weeps softly over the miniature house from the iconic 2004 rom-com. The house represents many things, including a longing for the fantasy of one’s childhood, which Grande has spoken about extensively in recent interviews. But it’s also emblematic of Ariana’s approach toward the song. In the movie, Jenna is given the miniature house by Mark Ruffalo’s character, “Matty Flamhaff.” At this point, Garner’s character is not romantically into him — at all. By the end of the movie, she realizes she’s loved him all along. In brief, the house symbolizes the music video’s primary theme: to try and focus on the pleasant, happy memories of exes rather than the sour ones.

there’s something wrong with you. Here, we watch Ari watch boys play football and then parade herself down Harvard’s college walk (or something similar to it) in an all-pink getup with her chihuahua, Bruiser. In case you’ve been living under a rock, 

is all about women who defy their stereotypes. Just as Elle Woods is forced to prove that being blonde and loving pink doesn’t make her innately stupid, Grande has spent upwards of a decade combating the notion that she’s nothing more than a teeny-bopper with a long ponytail.

Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery

Grande dials things up in the extremely risquée number, “34+35.” Just do the math, and you’ll know what the song’s about. As such, it makes perfect sense that she called upon the Austin Powers franchise for the song’s music video. Inspired by the fembots of the first 

which are inspired by the mélange of women at a ski resort in James Bond’s 

Grande pokes fun at the song’s salacious nature. By becoming a fembot herself, she’s attempting to reclaim control of the idea that these robots exist for male pleasure as opposed to female empowerment. There’s another interpretation, too, that Grande is resurrecting a version of herself from the 

era, a chapter of her professional life that was perhaps reminiscent of easier times.

Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery soundtrack

we can’t be friends (wait for your love)

Another adaptation of a Kirsten Dunst movie, Grande’s video for her lead single “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” is so good it’s painful. We watch for about four minutes as the songstress does everything in her power to wipe away the memories of her ex-husband, luxury real estate agent Dalton Gomez. The two split in the summer of 2023, though rumors circulated that the two had separated as early as the winter of that same year. Her ex is portrayed by Evan Peters, an extremely gifted actor who starred in 

. By the end of the video, Grande has seemingly erased Gomez from her mind — albeit painfully — as she’s seen happily walking arm-in-arm with another man. The song’s meaning is twofold, as Grande has expressed having a tumultuous relationship with the media. The lyrics mirror the end of a failed romance, but they also allude to the media’s determination to vilify her even when she’s on her best behavior.

Know that you made me / I don’t like how you paint me, yet I’m still here hanging, 

We can’t be friends / But I’d like to just pretend / You cling to your papers and pens / Wait until you like me again.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind soundtrack

in 2004, Grande’s latest music video explores the mischievous exploits of the film’s titular character. Donning a cowl, a whip, and an all-black body suit, Ariana leaps about the rooftops of Gotham City as she belts about converting the city’s disinterested mayor into her lover. The song samples the original “The Boy is Mine” by Brandi and Monica from 1998. Grande released a remix of “the boy is mine” featuring herself and the duo, which, in many regards, is better than both their original track and Grande’s.

Stepping away from her bad-girl persona, Grande collaborated with John Legend for Disney’s 2017 

remake. The duo complement each other spectacularly, mixing Grande’s bravado with Legend’s deliberate, soothing harmonies. By the time the track reaches its crescendo, it becomes clear why Disney recruited two of the most soulful singers in the industry to convey the song’s extremely sublet notes of R&B against its louder, symphonic melody.

Upon the release of “thank u, next” in November 2018, Grande promoted the song with a live performance on 

. The stage was set to mirror the final song/dance number of yet another cult classic, 

Starring Diane Keaton, Better Midler, and Goldie Hawn, the film sees the three women usher in the end credits to “You Don’t Own Me” by Leslie Gore. Here, however, Grande swaps Gore’s track for her own, the lyrics of which reveal the singer's fantasy for her wedding. And though she almost falls during the performance, Grande’s fast recovery is not to be missed.

One of the most famous musicals of all time, Rogers and Hammerstein’s 

was famously sampled for Grande’s hit single — “7 rings.” In fact, when most people hear the song for the first time, they think it’s a cover of “My Favorite Things.” It’s not until the track drops into a rap that the listeners realize their expectations for raindrops, roses, and whiskers have been subverted with ATMs, diamond rings, and private jets. It’s cheeky, to be sure, but it also is a chance for Grande to relish in her success as an artist — as opposed to relishing in the aftermath of her failed relationship drama, the aftermath of the Manchester bombing, or the constant body and slut-shaming from critics.

If nothing else, it’s abundantly clear the impact Hollywood has had on one of the 21st Century’s most influential pop stars. But above all else, Grande has proven time and time again that she has the capacity to persevere against, well, almost anything. Her ability to prevail against the immense darkness of the world is mirrored by her music, her videos, and her inextinguishable light that makes it very hard, if not impossible, for her to stand down – especially in the face of evil.

The Power of the Pony – 10 Movies That Inspired Ariana Grande Music Videos

Based on arguably the greatest American novel of all time, Baz Luhrmann's

 may wobble in certain places—like in some of its casting or its overuse of CGI—but its soundtrack is virtually impeccable. With the help of an onslaught of A-listers, Luhrmann blends contemporary musical covers with the visual and auditory aesthetics of the roaring 20s.

"No Church in the Wild" - Jay-Z, Kanye West ft. Frank Ocean + "Empire Start of Mind (Part II)" - Alicia Keys

No Church in the Wild + Empire State of Mind (Part II)

After the eye-rolling prelude where Tobey Maguire’s Nick Carraway decides to write a novel to help cope with his time at Jay Gatsby’s mansion, the movie flashes back to an incredible, CGI-stuffed shot of 1920s Manhattan. It is truly breathtaking, even if it’s all fake. Just before “No Church in the Wild” takes off by Jay-Z, if you listen closely, you’ll hear a hint of Alicia Keys’s “Empire State of Mind (Part II).”

"Bang Bang" - will.i.am + "A Little Party Never Killed Nobody (All We Got)" - Fergie

Bang Bang + A Little Party Never Killed Nobody (All We Got)

music moment of the entire movie. Nick Carraway receives a personal invitation to one of Gatsby’s famous parties. Only thing is, no one gets a personal invite. No one. So when Nick shows up to find the whole of New York raging to “Bang Bang” by will.i.am and “A Little Party Never Killed Nobody” by Fergie, he finds himself engrossed in a bacchanal unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

If you ever have a wild house party, make sure to put these tracks on the SONOS. Despite the contemporary finish on the music, Luhrmann’s choice to use the will.i.am and Fergie (as well as Q-Tip and GoonRock) help to capture the essence of a pre-depression party from over a hundred years ago. Luhrmann gives it to us aplenty, juxtaposing contradictory sounds and images that highlight how different (and similar) Fitzgerald’s world was to our own.

At the end of Gatsby’s party, Nick’s new friend Jordan (a socialite and golfer) approaches the bond tradesman and tells him, “It all makes sense now!” When Nick asks what makes sense, Jordan replies that she’s sorry but, “I promised not to tell!” As Jordan rolls away in a packed car, the evening winds down to Florence + the Machine’s “Over the Love.” It’s a slow, depressing song that initially makes you feel like you’re about to be hungover but eventually grows into one of the songstress’s epic ballads.

This is both a great music moment and a weird one. Gatsby introduces Nick to one of his business partners, a man named Wolfsheim, who reveals that he has a human molar pinned to his tie. The scene transpires in an underground gentleman’s club, where Jay-Z’s “100$ Bill” blares diegetically with a band and dancers in the background. It’s a neat look at the underbelly of the 20s, stealing a little peek at the world that had to be hidden from broad daylight.

Even though the best music moment goes to Fergie and will.i.am, the best song on the entire soundtrack goes to Lana Del Rey. I mean, come on. Who doesn’t like “Young and Beautiful”? It’s so tragic, so symphonic, so endlessly haunting and enchanting. It demands that the listener feel something, even if they don’t want to. There are many different versions of it, too, such as an orchestral track that was released to coincide with the movie and an instrumental version from the Bryan Ferry Orchestra. The central theme of the song is also embedded into several tracks of the film’s score by Craig Armstrong, including “Hotel Sayre” and “Magic Tree and I Let Myself Go.”

In the film, the original version of the song plays as Gatsby gives Daisy and Nick a tour of his mansion. They golf, swim, play with an orange juice maker, and dance beneath an organ in an alcove above the ballroom. During this brief moment, as Daisy spins around the dance floor, a choir infiltrates the song, taking over the lyrics: 

Lord when I get to heaven / Please let me bring my man. 

The scene ends with Gatsby throwing dozens of his shirts down to Daisy like snowflakes from a balcony in his bedroom, initially sending her into a fit of laughter. But the giggles quickly morph into something else, for it becomes apparent that Daisy is crying. When Gatsby asks what’s the matter, she refuses to mention anything about her abusive, cheating husband or the fact that she’s still in love with Gatsby. So, instead, she simply says she’s never seen such beautiful shirts before.

"Back to Black" - Beyoncé ft. Andre 3000

Beyoncé’s cover of Amy Winehouse’s brilliant “Back to Black” makes an appearance during the montage in which Nick tells the audience of Gatsby’s rise to fame and fortune. He explains that he started as a young boy of modest means, but he had a grand vision for his life that would turn him into 

 legitimate business kingpin of West Egg. It’s a song about reverting, going back in time to who, or what, you really are. In fact, the track holds a mirror up to perhaps the film’s most famous line of dialogue. “You can’t repeat the past,” Nick tells Gatsby. “But of course you can, ol’ sport,” Gatsby replies. “Of course you can.”

The xx song “Together” makes an appearance as Gatsby and Daisy begin to meet up in secret. It’s a quiet little track, one that makes you feel like you’re sneaking out in the middle of the night, which is exactly what our main characters are up to. The song serves another purpose, too; its quiet altitude doubles as a sort of “calm before the storm,” for the events that dominate the latter portion of the movie are profoundly allegorical – and, therefore, entirely tragic.

comes in the form of the title character’s final hour. While swimming at the pool of his mansion, which appears completely abandoned in the middle of autumn, Gatsby orders his butler to place a phone nearby in case Daisy calls. The phone rings, of course, and Gatsby gets out of the pool to answer it. Smiling happily, thinking the caller to be Daisy, the scene is interrupted by the pop of a gunshot. As Gatsby falls back into the pool, his gaze fixed on the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock, “Into the Past” by Nero soars as DiCaprio (and his killer) both take their final plunge.

Obviously, an allusion to the death of Myrtle earlier in the movie, “Kill and Run” by Sia, echoes menacingly in the background as the end titles roll. For those who don’t know, Myrtle is the name of Daisy’s husband’s mistress. There are many interpretations of the scene where Daisy strikes and kills Myrtle with Gatsby’s car. Some fiction experts say she did it on purpose, others by accident, but regardless, Daisy (and Gatsby) reacted by doing the same thing – simply fleeing the scene.

The Great Soundtrack – Best Music Moments of The Great Gatsby

For better or worse, period dramas have the unenviable reputation of being boring. But Netflix’s 

, which first premiered in 2016, is anything but. In conjunction with the stark visuals, emotional score, and award-winning cast, the series attempts to subvert our expectation of what a period piece can and should bring to the table in the 21st Century. By rendering the show’s POV closer to the British Royal Family than we’ve ever seen before, audiences are treated to an unprecedented look at what life inside Buckingham Palace may be like, or at the very least, feel like.

The most immediately identifiable and iconic music from 

has to be its opening title score. The filmmakers recruited Hans Zimmer to compose this minute-long sweep, which encapsulates the tone of the entire series in just under a minute and a half. It starts out very quiet with some unassuming strings, overlayed against images of gilded mounts, sapphires, and emeralds that slowly coalesce into the crown itself. By the end of the piece, Zimmer assaults us with a full-blown symphony that makes the viewer feel almost as if they themselves are being crushed by the weight of this immortal object. It's a testament to just how little time it can take for a piece of music to elicit an emotional response. Anyone who watches the show knows it from a mile away.

do an excellent job showing you everything that’s going to happen while simultaneously showing you almost nothing at all. The biggest event right out the gate is that King George VI – father of Queen Elizabeth II – is diagnosed with lung cancer, a reality that will soon convert his princess daughter into the Queen of the United Kingdom. But the most touching moment in this episode is not between King George and Elizabeth, no, but between the king and his other daughter, Princess Margaret. Together, the duo sings Ella Fitzgerald’s “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” for a small party as the king pushes through a coughing fit in order to keep up appearances. Knowing his death is just around the corner makes it all the more painful as a single tear rolls down Margaret’s cheek from behind the piano.

Whether they know it or not, everyone has heard Mozart’s 

Requiem in D Minor, K. 626: III. Sequentia. Lacrimosa

. The track is both ominous and foreboding, laced with a loud choir and hints of a religious atmosphere, making it the perfect fit for 

. As Winston Churchill’s secretary leaves Downing Street for the day, 

kicks into high gear as a thick fog descends upon London. The fog lingers over the city for several days, disrupting every facet of local infrastructure while simultaneously taking the lives of various civilians. The scariest part of the whole thing is that there’s literally nothing anyone can do to stop the public from coughing to death or getting hit by traffic. An aptly named episode, for such phenomena, can only be wielded by a higher power.

The actual coronation of Queen Elizabeth II is without question the most existentially provocative sequence of 

first season. Another song we’ve all heard, whether we know it or not, is “All People That on Earth do Dwell,” a haunting hymn that plays as the Queen is marched up to the altar at Westminster Abbey. Just before the anointing, the transmission feed is cut so the ritual can remain blanketed to the public eye. During a viewing party of the coronation in Paris, a guest asks why the feed was cut. “Because we are mortals,” the host replies, a sentiment that mirrors the queen’s elevated status against the rest of the world.

What would a series about Elizabeth II be without at least one grand belt of “God Save the Queen?” This particular incarnation of the song surfaces during a luncheon in Africa, where Princess Margaret leads a toast to honor her elder sister, the Queen. As Margaret leads the song, another camera follows a young boy from the post office to the luncheon with a letter in his hand. He delivers the letter just as the song ends, which states that the Queen has ordered for Margaret’s lover, an army man named Peter Townsend, to be relocated from London to Brussels. The scene is imbued with immense irony, forcing the viewer to watch Margaret honor her sister just as Elizabeth puts a concrete end to the love of her life.

In Episode Seven, Elizabeth hires a tutor to bolster what she perceives to be her own diminished education. Thus, she enlists the help of a man called Professor Hogg to help her obtain a better grasp on world history, language, and current events. This episode features the song “She Didn’t Say Nothin’ At All” by Johnnie Ray, an American singer and songwriter who reached the height of his popularity in the 1950s. Hogg listens to the beat as he pulls up to the gates of Buckingham Palace, simultaneously throwing back a swig from his flask. It is a brief scene, one that is easy to miss, but it is emblematic of the Establishment’s aversion to taking a stance on even the most basic issues. Instead, it’s easier to say nothin’ at all.

It’s time to get into the show’s fashion! Episode Eight sees Elizabeth and Philip embark on a world tour, but not without a quick visit to the tailor. The outfits on display consist of the finest materials in the realm – organza, crepe de chime, shantung silk – all of which are modeled in a private fashion show for Her Majesty. The scene plays out against a song called “Stolen Moments” by Oliver Nelson. Though there are no lyrics, the song’s happy tone suggests Elizabeth should been keen to visit Bermuda, Jamaica, Australia, and Uganda to promote the Commonwealth. What’s more, the queen’s tailor wants to provide her with one hundred dresses and fifty pairs of shoes, the notion of which makes Elizabeth anxious. Through Claire Foy’s muted distress, we get a glimpse of a woman whose fundamentally basic nature has been “stolen” from her by the very institution she heads.

Episode Nine opens with a new character, a woman, on a lunch date with a man called Porchey. For those who don’t know, Henry Herbert, 7th Earl of Carnarvon (or “Porchey”), was Elizabeth’s horse racing manager until his death in 2001. But more importantly, historians believe he was the long-lost love of Queen Elizabeth II. As the new female character moves through the restaurant to find her table, she does so to the song “Cry” by Johnny Ray. During the lunch, Porchey proposes to the woman, and she replies that she will only say yes if Porchey “no longer hold a torch for [Elizabeth].” This prompts Porchey to go into a long spiel about how he never stood a chance against Prince Philip, a hard fact that may very well have made him (or his fiancée) cry.

Upon Peter Townsend’s return from his station in Brussels, Elizabeth and the Establishment find themselves increasingly dissatisfied by the fact that both Townsend and Margaret still appear to be very much in love. Together, Peter and Margaret attend a party in the country in order to escape the monarchy and the tabloids as they interact with other guests to the song “Dreamboat” by Alma Cogan. Unable to dance together in public, for fear of spreading more heinous rumors, Peter spins Margaret into the arms of another man before retiring to bed. It’s only later, after he’s in his jammies that Margaret sneaks upstairs to find Peter’s room. She tells him she loves him, to which he merely replies, “Thank you.” It’s a sad reality, one most of us have faced at one point or another, and the duo begins to realize the only place they’ll ever be together is in their dreams.

In Paris, Elizabeth’s uncle, the Duke of Windsor, hosts one of his many lavish dos at the Villa Windsor. For those who don’t know, the Duke of Windsor was the King of England for approximately one year (1936) before abdicating the throne on behalf of the Establishment’s disapproval of his wife, a Baltimore socialite and Nazi sympathizer named Wallis Simpson. Excommunicated to the Bois de Boulogne, the vacuum left behind by the Duke of Windsor made room for his younger brother, Elizabeth’s father, King George VI, to wear the crown. Only because of this maneuver could it then find its way to Elizabeth’s head.

Because Elizabeth blames the Duke (who she calls Uncle David) for shirking his duty to the Commonwealth, the two have a rather fraught relationship. Nevertheless, the situation between Peter and Margaret mirrors what happened with the Duke and Wallis Simpson, and so Elizabeth phones her uncle for advice during one of his raucous soirées. Ultimately, the Duke admits that he is on Margaret’s side, believing the Church of England should not wedge a divide between the two lovers purely because Townsend is a divorcee. This transpires as “Chills and Fever” by Freddie Houston roars in the background of the Duke’s party.

Quite obviously, we all know what a fever and chills mean. It’s a premonition, a warning that something very ugly is about to happen. And though it is laced with lots of political tension and plenty of sordid love affairs, Season One of 

plays out like a historical drama with relatively muted peaks and valleys, particularly when compared to what awaits viewers in the later seasons. After all, it’s no coincidence that the Duke of Windsor phones Elizabeth about doomed lovers from the same foyer where Princess Diana and Dodi al-Fayed would spend their last afternoon on Earth. And even though the filmmakers don’t show many of their cards by the time the curtain falls on the first season, they do want you to try and steal a peek at them – if you can.

The Best Music Moments from Season One of The Crown

is a rollercoaster, then Season One represents the train leaving the station, and Season Two represents the train climbing the chain lift. All ten episodes of the second season are devoted to the tension mounting between Elizabeth and Philip, as well as Margaret and her new beau – Antony Armstrong Jones, 1st Earl of Snowden, Constable of Caernarfon Castle, and revered British portraitist. Set against the backdrop of the fall of the Suez Canal and the Kennedy assassination, Season Two of 

knows that it has one job and one job only: to prove that the Establishment is a powder keg, one supercharged with enough volatility to erupt at any moment. And even though we never really see the institution combust, the filmmakers promise us (without saying it) that it’s going to happen. With the inevitability of such bedlam in the not-too-distant future, 

second season walks a fine line between muted political beats and full-blown relationship drama, all of which are thematically mirrored (or subverted) through the season’s impeccable soundtrack of licensed music.

The first episode of the season sees Queen Elizabeth II at the ballet for a production of 

. It is a revered piece of classical ballet about a woman named Giselle who dies of heartbreak upon learning that the nobleman she’s in love with lied to her about his identity. Giselle then joins a deadly sisterhood of ghosts called the Wilis, an ensemble of unmarried women who died from being betrayed by their husbands. What prompts the queen to go to the ballet is a photo of the show’s lead ballerina, a woman named Galina Ulanova, which Elizabeth finds in Philip’s briefcase just before he’s about to embark on a royal tour. In order to catch a glimpse of her competition, Elizabeth attends the ballet by herself. There, she locks eyes with Galina during the ballerina’s standing ovation at the end of “Giselle ou Les Wilis: Ballet-Pantomime in Two Acts: Act 2: Apparition De Myrthe Et Évocation Magique” by Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra. Quite obviously, Giselle’s situation mirrors the queen’s own, for she is forced to reconcile the notion that there may be a shadowy facet of Philip’s character of which she’s either unaware or has turned a blind eye.

While at the height of his royal tour, Philip and his fleet rescue an Australian castaway from a naval patrol boat and bring him aboard the HMY Britannia. This scenario brings Philip toe-to-toe with the ship’s Flag Officer, who insists the castaway be deposited at the nearest island, while Philip insists the man be sailed back to his family. Ultimately, Philip wins the fight because, well, he’s the Duke of Edinburgh, and the Flag Officer is, well, a flag officer. As the duo debate what to do with the castaway, “I’ve Never Been in Love Before” by Doris Day echoes softly on a radio in the background. When not returning castaways to their homeland or growing their beards as long as possible, the company of men alongside Philip for his tour write letters back to their homeboys in London detailing the crew’s sexual exploits. Most of the men are married, after all, which makes these letters all the more threatening to the British aristocracy. But more importantly, Day’s song highlights an obvious truth about the majority of the men on Philip’s crew: none of them are really in love because if they were, they wouldn’t use their time aboard Britannia to cheat on their wives.

introduces us to Antony Armstrong-Jones, perhaps the most colorful and sexually curious character of the entire series cast. Portrayed by Matthew Goode, Armstrong-Jones uses his keen eye as a photographer to lure Princess Margaret into an erotic portrait session. Sporting nothing save a pair of earrings, Jones’s portrait of the princess shook the public to its core in 1959. Completely seduced by the attention Jones pays to her, Margaret and the man develop an intense attraction to one another. Jones has all of his subjects sign a mirror in his studio with a diamond, and as such, Margaret signs her name as “Beryl” upon Jones’s suggestion since the word rhymes with peril.

As Tony and Margaret flee Tony’s studio behind the wheel of his motorcycle, they are followed by one of the Crown’s drivers. In order to ditch him, the duo pick up speed against the backdrop of “The Four Seasons: Spring 1” by Vivaldi and remastered by Max Richter. This particular tune will become their suite, for the song appears again in 

as the two continue to ride around town on Tony’s motorbike and make love. The filmmakers chose “Spring 1” of Vivaldi’s four seasons because it represents many things that parallel Tony and Margaret – young love, the rebirth of romance, and the dawn of a new decade: the 1960s.

 comes to a close, and Margaret’s racy picture is published in the press, “I Only Have Eyes for You” by the Flamingos plays both diegetically and non-diegetically between two very different relationships. The first is of Elizabeth and Philip, who reach the top of the stairs in their sleeping quarters and go to their separate bedrooms without so much as a kiss or a hug. The second is of Margaret and Tony. Margaret finds herself dancing around her room in her bra in a lovestruck haze, seemingly to the song by the Flamingos, while Tony develops Margaret’s portrait in his darkroom. It’s such a good song, as engaging today as it was upon its release in 1959, with plenty of smooth sha-bop sha-bops and soft percussion, capable of romancing any listener.

Episode Five sees Elizabeth visit a car factory, where she makes a tone-deaf speech about how the workers are essentially admirable for “leading uneventful, lonely lives where dreariness is the enemy.” She goes on to say that the workers “don’t understand their ability to withstand the fatigue of dull, repetitive work” and that the upward course of a nation’s history is “due in large part to its average men and women.” At the same time, a group of people at a dentist’s office in central London listen to Elizabeth’s speech on the radio, making faces and locking eyes with one another at the ludicrous nature of her words. Ultimately, someone stands up from their chair and switches the station to a happy ditty called “Let’s Have a Wonderful Time” by John Barry & the Seven. Suddenly, everyone’s faces light up, and the people in the waiting room start tapping their feet and shaking their heads at the queen’s inability to empathize with the working class.

One of the people in the dentist's office during Elizabeth’s car speech is a man called John Grigg, or the 2nd Baron Altrincham, who was the editor of the 

from 1954 to 1960. Upon hearing the queen’s speech, he immediately races home to type up an article with his wife (Patricia) about the monarch’s “classless” voice and “superficial” tone. In the background, as they type their article, “The Train and the River” by Jimmy Giuffre plays in the study. As we know, a river is constantly changing and flowing; it defies the very concept of stagnancy. But a train will run along the same track, back and forth, forever and ever, without a change in sight. (Just look at the MTA or Amtrak.) The metaphor is, therefore, plain: Elizabeth is the train, and Altrincham is the river. In his article, Altrincham states, “When she has lost the bloom of youth, the Queen's reputation will depend, far more than it does now, upon her personality. As yet, there is little sign that such a personality is emerging. But will she, above all, see to it that Prince Charles is equipped with all the knowledge he can absorb without injury to his health and that he mixes during his formative years... not merely with future landowners or stockbrokers?”

Perhaps the most risqué and sexually charged episode of the entire series rests with Episode Seven, 

. It is here that the filmmakers devote a full hour to the sexual exploits and conquests of Antony Armstrong-Jones. Between his threesomes with a couple known as Mr. and Mrs. Fry and several scenes of him having sex with women or lying in the bluff around his studio, it becomes clear to the viewer very quickly that this person will probably not meld well with the Establishment. The episode begins with Peter Townsend and Princess Margaret in their respective bedrooms, synced with “The Wonder of You” by Ronnie Hilton. The song’s meaning is twofold. Quite obviously, it refers to the wonder and romance Margaret feels for Peter Townsend, but it also refers to the rumors that people 

about her future husband, the Earl of Snowden. So when Margaret learns that Townsend is to be married to another woman, she throws herself headfirst at Jones despite the warnings that circulate about his sexual exploits. Despite his playboy status, Antony’s mother (Anne Messel, Countess of Rosse) insists that Jones marry Margaret to bring honor to the family name. Even though it’s obviously a match made in hell, Margaret accepts the proposal in order to erase Townsend from her mind – or at least try to.

It’s always fun when worlds collide, particularly when those worlds are Britain and America in the early 1960s, as presented to us in 

Braced for a visit from the 35th President of the United States, Elizabeth admits to harboring a bit of anxiety as it pertains to meeting the First Lady, Jackie Kennedy. They’re polar opposites, or at least, that’s what everyone seems to be telling the queen. Elizabeth is frumpy. Jackie is glamorous. Elizabeth is awkward. Jackie is charismatic. Elizabeth is base. Jackie is gorgeous. So, in order to spruce herself up, Elizabeth seeks the consultation of a tailor in anticipation of the Kennedys’ visit. In fact, she tells the tailor that she wants something that won’t make her feel “second best.” While proposing an outfit to the queen, a song from the early days of British pop called “Wheels (Cha Cha)” by Joe Loss and His Orchestra is overlaid against the consultation.

Yes, the tune is catchy and gives an air of excitement that may precede a special occasion or a historical event, but look twice at the track’s title. 

. After all, the queen’s guest of honor – JFK – will be executed in just two years’ time while traveling through Texas on what? Yup, wheels. It’s a haunting presentiment, to be sure, one that parallels another bizarre tragedy that would occur on wheels pertaining to the Royal Family in Paris on the last day of August 1997.

One of the most disturbing moments in Season Two comes in the form of a flashback from Prince Philip’s POV. 

uses parallel structure to bounce back and forth between Philip and Charles’s time at Gourdonstoun, a Scottish boarding school with a flair for athletics and hazing. The point of the structure is to juxtapose the father’s time at school with his son’s, ultimately exposing the stark differences between Philip and Charles as people. Philip is depicted as a boy desperate to become an alpha male, someone who starts fights and sabotages his peers while training for the end-of-year obstacle course. Meanwhile, Charles is depicted as a quiet boy who is shy and gets bullied and shoved to the ground more times than he can count. It’s a stark contrast, for Charles is the type of boy Philip would have either bullied or dominated if they’d been at Gourdonstoun together.

While Philip’s enrolled at Gourdonstoun, his favorite sibling (Princess Cecilie of Greece) dies in a plane crash. Philip returns home for her funeral, a horrifying procession through the streets of Darmstadt lined with more swastikas than any other sequence in the entire show as Mozart’s “Requiem in D. Minor, K. 626” echoes in the background. This song was used in the previous season, in the episode 

to relay the feeling of a higher power’s interference with the plot. However, this time, rather than a dense fog that blinds the city of London, it’s a plane crash that takes Philip’s sister from him. The track makes for some chilling listening, which is perhaps what prompted the filmmakers to use this masterwork by Mozart when the events of the narrative stretch beyond the hands of mere mortals.

The season finale opens with Prince Philip doing his morning workout against the song “Man of Mystery” by The Shadows. Ultimately, the Duke of Edinburgh hurts his neck and gets in touch with a chiropractor named Stephen Ward. Ward is most famously responsible for the Profumo Affair, a major political scandal that put an end to Harold Macmillan’s Conservative government in October 1963. Long story short, Ward would host parties at a cottage in Cliveden of Buckinghamshire for a guest list that included everyone from foreign dignitaries to young models, members of the royal family, and even Russian spies. When word reached the public of these soirées, John Profumo (a Conservative MP under Macmillan) committed suicide upon learning that he’d been sleeping with a nineteen-year-old model (Christine Keeler) who had ties to Captain Yevgeny Ivanov, a spy in England working for the Soviet Union. Several pictures of these parties reached the press, one of which included the back silhouette of a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Duke of Edinburgh.

Unable to identify the silhouette for certain, the tabloids take to calling him the “mystery man” of the Profumo Affair, making “Man of Mystery” an extremely apt track for the episode’s opening. When Elizabeth questions her husband about his involvement with Ward and Profumo, Philip states that he visited Ward for osteopathic help, but that’s all. Elizabeth explains that the intelligence services have amassed a small collection of hand-drawn portraits of the Duke by Stephen Ward, revealing that the two were closer than Philip has let on. Yet he denies it. So, Elizabeth pulls out her masterstroke, the picture of Galina Ulanova that she’d found in Philip’s suitcase in the season’s first episode, 

. Knowing he’s caught, the prince gets on one knee and bows before his wife, placing his head in her lap. Is he asking for forgiveness? Perhaps. But more likely, as viewers will know, he’s asking for permission not to change.

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