There is not one saga I have been more invested in this year than the Beckham family feud. In case you are not as shamelessly showbiz-pilled as I am, this is a drama that parses like something between the parable of the prodigal son and Catherine de Medici’s tension with her daughter-in-law Mary, Queen of Scots.
It seems that, after years of a trying in-law dynamic, relations between the Beckham family and their first-born, Brooklyn, and his wife, the heiress Nicola Peltz, have soured. Brooklyn has been repeatedly and conspicuously absent from all the family group shots on Instagram and, most notably, mum Victoria’s Netflix documentary, and dad David’s 50th birthday celebrations and knighthood ceremony (and if you know how long Dave’s been auditioning for that honour, you’ll know that this was the biggest indicator of catastrophe).
The roots of the feud allegedly lie in Peltz not wearing a dress from Victoria’s eponymous fashion label for her wedding (and an indication that the Peltz-Beckhams hadn’t been happy with the whole affair came when they renewed their vows just three years later, with some reports claiming that the Beckham family found out about it when the rest of us did). Throw in other factors, such as the Peltz family patriarch being a Trump-supporting billionaire, the perennially directionless Brooklyn having had more random jobs than Homer Simpson, and an overzealous friend who spills too much in online comments sections, and this all has the ingredients of a full-blown soap opera. Though I’ve also found it strangely affecting; every time Victoria (whom I love) made an Instagram post without Brooklyn, I found myself thinking: “Please, Brooklyn, just come back home!”
It’s now reached fever pitch with Brooklyn blocking his entire family on Instagram – as revealed by his brother, Cruz, who responded to a Daily Mail story that wrongly claimed that his mother and father had unfollowed their son. No more rumours, speculation, shady comments – finally a member of the firm has spoken directly, and acknowledged the drama that brands as well cultivated as the Beckhams’ are meant to ignore.
Following this latest development, I had two thoughts. One more audaciously gossipy: if Cruz has finally spoken, in support of his parents, might we get a “Megxit”-style tell-all sitdown where Brooklyn and Nicola dish dish dish to get the upper hand on the narrative? The other is more sympathetic: that this family drama has exploded around Christmastime gets to the heart of why it’s been so compelling.
According to reports (not that we need them to form that conclusion), Brooklyn will be spending his Christmas with the Peltzes, shunning an olive branch extended by David and Victoria. Where a grown married man spends his yuletide should hardly cause a stir, yet it being such a patent mark of the breakdown of their relationship is upsetting, isn’t it? The family home is a more intimate and fragile setting than Windsor Castle or L’Ami Louis. And I think it speaks to the emotions of this season that often go unspoken: that beyond the postcard pictures of togetherness and board games, family breakdown, dysfunction and absence are thrown into sharp relief during the Christmas period.
I know this well. I love my family very much. But since my father passed away in 2016, Christmas has been a challenge, and something I’ve viewed as an inconvenience and a painful reminder of how our family dynamic has been irrevocably changed. I still don’t like to open Instagram on Christmas Day to see all the smiling families with a healthy, greying man at the head of the table. What has a billionaire v millionaire family war got to do with my dead dad? Nothing much. Yet I think anyone can relate to that feeling of things not quite being the same, grieving lost relationships, or wondering if you’ll ever be happy during this season again. No doubt the Beckhams will still have a Christmas as wonderful as money can buy – they’ve been all smiles at their milestone events – but the occasion will surely be tinged with sadness and regret because of Brooklyn’s estrangement.
Every Christmas since its release in 2021, I’ve watched Spencer, Pablo Larraín’s historical psychodrama set during Christmas of 1991, in which Diana, Princess of Wales (Kristen Stewart), contemplates leaving Charles and liberating herself from the royal family. Christmas is ultimately a festival for families whose members like each other and have no problems. Larraín’s Diana is an avatar for those with more complex feelings, who have moments of wanting to abscond from the table.
Viewing Spencer has joined another private tradition of mine, which is to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, so I have one as a reminder of happier moments of my childhood, and one to absorb the feelings of seasonal melancholy. I’m sure the Beckhams will have their own ways of coping and, before this inevitably gets nastier, maybe they’ll find some solace in reflecting on when their unit was more whole.
Anyway, all of this is to say that beyond the tabloid gossip, this feud has engrossed me this year because it’s been a very human story. I can’t get on my soapbox since I am, and will continue to be, the audience for this, but I can’t help but feel for the pain of having your family fallouts publicly picked over, with the rest of us trying to determine who the real villain is, and projecting our own narratives. So I’m wishing a good Christmas to the Beckhams, and all of us who face heartbreak over and over again this season.