When I first stumbled upon “En Kunglig Affär”—or “A Royal Secret,” as it’s known in English—I was instantly drawn in by the promise of scandal, forbidden love, and royal intrigue. Set against the brooding backdrop of 1930s Sweden, this four-part mini-series dives headfirst into the shadowy corridors of power, where secrets are currency and love can be a dangerous game. The show unearths the real-life affair between King Gustaf V and Kurt Haijby, a restaurateur with a checkered past, and it doesn’t shy away from the heartbreak and injustice that followed in their wake.
The story kicks off in 1932, with Kurt Haijby—desperate, out of options, and clinging to hope—seeking an audience with the king himself. What begins as a last-ditch plea for help quickly morphs into something far more intimate. Suddenly, we’re swept into a whirlwind romance, the kind that feels both exhilarating and doomed from the start. I couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air, thick as fog, as the two men navigate a world that refuses to accept them.
But as their relationship deepens, the forces of tradition and prejudice close in. The king’s advisors, especially the cold and calculating Governor Nothin, seem almost hell-bent on crushing any hint of scandal. Watching Haijby get tossed from country to country, hounded by authorities, and ultimately thrown into a mental asylum, I found myself clenching my fists in frustration. How much suffering can one man endure simply for loving the wrong person?
The series doesn’t pull its punches when it comes to the cruelty of the era. Courtroom scenes bristle with tension and lies, and I felt a knot in my stomach as Haijby’s voice was drowned out by those determined to silence him. The injustice is almost suffocating. Yet, amidst all the darkness, there are moments of genuine tenderness—especially in the stolen glances and whispered conversations between Haijby and the king. The performances, particularly from the actor playing Haijby, are nothing short of mesmerizing. He wears his heartbreak like a second skin, and his rage in the courtroom is a gut punch.
If I’m being honest, I wish the series had lingered a bit longer on the love story itself. Four episodes just don’t seem enough to capture the full depth of their connection, and I was left wanting more—more backstory, more insight, more of the raw emotion that crackles between them. Still, the show never loses its grip. Each episode left me hungry to know what would happen next, even as I dreaded the inevitable tragedy looming on the horizon.
“En Kunglig Affär” isn’t just a tale of forbidden love; it’s a searing reminder of how far we’ve come—and how far we still have to go. It’s infuriating, heartbreaking, and, at times, strangely hopeful. For anyone interested in queer history, royal drama, or just a damn good story, this mini-series is absolutely worth your time. Trust me, you won’t be bored for a second.
The way you described the tension between Kurt Haijby and King Gustaf V really caught my attention. That sense of desperation in 1932 and the forbidden nature of their relationship seems to add a lot of emotional weight to the mini-series. I’m curious how the show handles the heartbreak and injustice that followed.