For those of you who have jumped on board the Netflix bandwagon, it’s likely that you’ve in some way been exposed to its new creative venture in the Netflix-only series House of Cards featuring Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright (that’s right people – Princess Buttercup is back!) And if you’re not a Netflix subscriber, well, it’s seriously worth the $8 a month for this show alone (we in no way represent the company, by the way).

First off, SPOILERS ahead!

While my inner geek would love to get into the details of the monologues, the Shakespearean asides, the even more Shakespearean invocation of absent deities (why, oh why has Kevin Spacey never played Iago?) and the corrupt depiction of Washington politics, I want instead to open up some dialogue about the central marriage of the series. Spacey’s Congressman Francis Underwood is married to Wright’s Claire Underwood, who works for the Clean Water Initiative (a wonderful satire of the highly-politicized nonprofit industry in Washington). The couple have no children, both work long hours, and Francis openly cheats on his wife with a young journalist. This is hardly a description of a perfect marriage – in fact it is so cliché as to sound downright boring.

Except for one key element: this is arguably the most egalitarian marriage I have ever seen portrayed in a series. Claire is very good at playing her Congressman’s Wife role: she is fit (like, ridiculously), clever, blonde and dedicated to her husband’s plans. But here’s the catch – she is quite happy to use him as a prop to her own career as much as he uses her. In fact, the two are both very open about it with each other, sharing some very candid conversations about their ambitions and schemes. Their feelings and desires are mutual (at least during the first half, roughly, of the show), and it is especially jarring to see Spacey’s southern gentleman of a politician treat his wife with such respect. Every stereotype in the book sets Claire up to be the virtuous, ignorant, maltreated wife, treated poorly by her sod of a husband. But instead, she joins him in his political manoeuvres – and hell, more than that: he joins hers!

It’s true this equality doesn’t last all season, and the relationship becomes a little more complicated as the series progresses. But the stage has already been set: by the time the couple start experiencing trouble, Claire is already an established schemer in her own right. When the young system-bucking journalist comes into play, Claire confronts her with her own knowledge. Her line “my husband and I tell each other everything” is chilling because it reduces Zoe to a pawn in the games the husband and wife play. Zoe assumes that Claire, like most wronged wives, knows nothing of her and Francis’ relationship, right up until the moment that Claire swings into her apartment and rather harshly disabuses her of this notion. While there are indications that Claire is actually more emotionally invested than she lets on, this statement serves as a reminder that this is no shrinking violet – this is a woman who plays at the same top levels as her (admittedly genius, if craven) husband.

I’m not suggesting that this is a perfect example of a couple. Rather, this iteration of House of Cards (the original was a 90’s British Drama) is deeply cynical about the corruption in politics perpetuated by types like Francis and Claire. But I am, nonetheless, impressed to see a marriage where, to put it as simply as I can, Lady Macbeth gets as much credit as Macbeth for bringing down the castle.