9 min read
9 min read

In The Gilded Age, Season 3, Episode 6, titled “If You Want to Cook an Omelette,” fans were blindsided when John Adams was suddenly killed in a horrific street accident. Played by Claybourne Elder, John was just beginning a redemption arc with Oscar van Rhijn.
After a heartfelt conversation about risk, forgiveness, and love, the episode ends with John being struck by a horse-drawn carriage. It was a fast, unexpected, and emotionally devastating moment that changed the tone of the series instantly. Viewers described it as one of the most tragic twists in the show’s entire run so far.

John Adams entered the show as a distant descendant of President John Adams and quickly won hearts with his calm confidence and generosity. He emerged as Oscar van Rhijn’s quiet but steady love interest. In this episode, John saves Oscar from financial ruin and shame.
Their budding romance finally felt promising, safe, even. That’s what made his sudden death so gut-wrenching. Just as viewers began to hope for something genuine between them, that future was violently stolen. John’s exit shattered Oscar’s emotional arc and reminded viewers how quickly hope can turn into tragedy on screen and in life.

The episode title, “If You Want to Cook an Omelette,” is a dark nod to the idea of necessary sacrifice for transformation. That metaphor comes painfully true by the episode’s end. Moments before John is killed, he and Oscar share a deep, warm exchange about growth and healing.
John thanks Oscar for his courage, and Oscar calls John his “savior.” The emotional vulnerability of that scene makes the accident even more jarring. The title now feels cruelly prophetic. To move Oscar forward, the show took away what grounded him.

Oscar van Rhijn has never been known for emotional honesty, but in this episode, we see his mask drop. Just before John’s death, Oscar tells him, “You are my savior. Thank you with all my heart.” That rare moment of sincerity is followed almost immediately by trauma.
A carriage barrels through the street, striking John and killing him in front of a stunned Oscar. The scene unfolds in complete silence. No words, no screams, just shock. It mirrors real-life grief: abrupt, surreal, and devastating. Oscar stands frozen, and so do we. It’s a powerful emotional pivot for his character.

Series co-creators Julian Fellowes and Sonja Warfield addressed fan reactions quickly. In interviews, they explained that the choice to kill John Adams wasn’t political, it was deeply narrative. Warfield said, “Sometimes a character has to go for another character to grow.” Fellowes emphasized that Oscar’s journey couldn’t continue authentically without real loss.
The writers saw John’s death as essential to pushing Oscar into unexplored emotional territory. Though painful, they argue it reflects reality: people leave, die, disappear, and those left behind must change. It’s not meant to be cruel, but honest, even if it stings more than we expected.

Fans of Julian Fellowes’ work will recognize a pattern, major characters often die in accidents involving transportation. Downton Abbey featured similar shocking moments. In The Gilded Age, John Adams’ sudden death by carriage echoes that storytelling motif.
Vulture called it “Fellowes’ fear of roads,” suggesting streets represent uncontrolled public chaos. The moment feels both random and thematically perfect. John, a symbol of progress and love, is struck down in the very space that connects people, yet also divides them.

After the episode aired, fans flooded social media with disbelief, heartbreak, and frustration. Viewers called John’s death “cruel,” “unfair,” and “too soon.” The scene trended on X (formerly Twitter), with fans expressing anger over the loss of one of the show’s most grounded characters.
Soap Central described it as “completely unexpected,” and fans agreed, it didn’t feel like a slow goodbye. Instead, it was immediate and merciless. People praised the performance but wished the timing had allowed for more closure.

Though the writers insisted John’s death wasn’t politically motivated, LGBTQ+ fans and critics raised concerns. The “bury your gays” trope, where queer characters are often killed or denied lasting love, felt dangerously close to home. For many, John and Oscar’s arc offered rare, respectful queer representation in a period drama.
To see it end so abruptly, without even a full romantic payoff, hurt. The Daily Beast noted that even with good intentions, killing the only openly gay love interest risked reinforcing outdated storytelling patterns. The conversation turned from sadness to cultural critique. Many asked: couldn’t Oscar grow without this loss?

Claybourne Elder, who plays John Adams, gave an emotional farewell in interviews. As a gay actor, he said the role meant more than just screen time; it felt like honoring queer people of history who often lived and died in silence.
Elder called the character “beautiful and honest” and said he was proud of the way the relationship with Oscar was handled. Still, he understood fans’ frustration. Losing John hurt. But Elder also believed the impact would linger for good reason, because John mattered.

Blake Ritson, who plays Oscar van Rhijn, said the scene was meant to “ambush” viewers. He described the emotional trajectory, from connection to chaos, as brutally intentional. In interviews, he praised the writing, noting how it made Oscar vulnerable in a way we’d never seen before.
The character, usually polished and emotionally distant, is stripped down in seconds. Ritson said Oscar’s life had just begun to stabilize when everything was ripped away. He wanted fans to feel that whiplash because Oscar does too. According to Ritson, it’s the most human Oscar has ever been, and the most broken.

Oscar’s development now hinges on how he processes this loss. Previously driven by ego and social maneuvering, Oscar now faces something far more personal: grief. Fellowes said Oscar is entering a state of “emotional unmooring,” where the audience will see him more conflicted and alone. This opens space for new alliances, regrets, and perhaps even redemption.
We may finally understand what’s beneath Oscar’s surface charm. The storyline could be the making or breaking of him. His ability to mourn, change, and evolve will become central to the season’s emotional core. It’s a quieter but deeply human transformation worth watching unfold.

With only two episodes left in Season 3, the emotional weight of John’s death will likely ripple outward. Oscar will have to reckon not only with grief but with guilt, did he wait too long to be vulnerable? Other characters like Marian and Bertha face their own high-stakes moments.
But Oscar’s storyline suddenly feels like the emotional anchor. Fans now anticipate not just plot twists but raw emotional reckoning. Whether it leads to revenge, retreat, or rebirth, the season’s final chapters are bound to feel more intimate and intense. The stakes are no longer social; they’re deeply personal.

Until now, The Gilded Age was mostly concerned with society gossip, rivalries, and wealth. But with John’s death, the tone shifts. Suddenly, the show feels less like a costume drama and more like a meditation on love, loss, and consequence.
This moment redefines the emotional palette. It forces characters, especially Oscar, to deal with deeper truths. We’re no longer watching people jockey for social standing; we’re watching them grieve. That transformation is subtle but powerful.

Despite good intentions, the decision to kill John has reignited a longstanding debate about how queer stories are treated in mainstream media. Many feel the writers missed an opportunity to show lasting queer love in a historical context. Others defend the narrative as emotionally real and dramatically effective.
The tension lies in the balance between telling honest stories and repeating harmful patterns. The Gilded Age walks a fine line, and this moment puts that line under the spotlight. Whether you see it as honest tragedy or a missed chance, the conversation around representation isn’t ending anytime soon.

Despite the grief, many fans have praised the show’s willingness to confront deep emotional truths. The scene felt real, not melodramatic or sensationalized, and that rawness resonated. John’s death hurt because it felt possible. It reminded viewers that even in period dramas full of ballgowns and banquets, life remains fragile.
Some said the realism made them cry harder. Others admitted they couldn’t stop thinking about it for days. The storytelling earned its heartbreak, and while not everyone agreed with the choice, few could deny its power.
When TV makes you feel something real, it leaves a mark, and if you’re looking for more shows that deliver that kind of emotional punch, check out this list of top new TV shows to stream now on every major platform.

Despite the grief, many fans have praised the show’s willingness to confront deep emotional truths. The scene felt real, not melodramatic or sensationalized, and that rawness resonated. John’s death hurt because it felt possible.
It reminded viewers that even in period dramas full of ball gowns and banquets, life remains fragile. Some said the realism made them cry harder. Others admitted they couldn’t stop thinking about it for days. The storytelling earned its heartbreak, and while not everyone agreed with the choice, few could deny its power.
It’s no wonder the series is being hailed among the Biggest TV show comebacks of 2025, because when TV makes you feel something real, it leaves a mark.
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This slideshow was made with AI assistance and human editing.
Lover of hiking, biking, horror movies, cats and camping. Writer at Wide Open Country, Holler and Nashville Gab.
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