Done With Downton
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A post-Victorian period drama that chronicles the lives of some snooty wimps who occupy the household of an aristocratic xenophobic
family – what’s not to like?
I
bailed on this show a few seasons back when I became unwilling to tolerate another scene where the only characters offered up were the soulless upper crust of British
imperialists or a sprinkling of well-meaning imbeciles. I’ve seen reviews that praise the show for its “satire”, which I guess leaves the door open for others to find elements of slapstick in D.W.Griffith's The Birth of a Nation.
The
subtlety of the series’ supposed satire may have gone unnoticed by United States
Congressman Aaron Schock who had his congressional offices done over as an homage to
the lavish Downton Abbey interiors.
I am confident that ex-Congressman Schock will some day look back and
appreciate the irony (a requirement of satire) in having been forced to resign in March of 2015 when it was determined that his office remodel had been paid for with public funds.
Photo from CBSnews.go.com
I may be exiled for expressing my views on this since Hollywood will soon convert the series' current momentum into box office gold and eventually an Edwardian equivalent to Star Wars for the geriatric set. The initial film's premiere will find Jane Seymour posing on the red carpet (having secured the merchandising rights) and sporting some hideous jewelry purportedly of her own creation and inspired by the movie.
I have an aversion to any show where all of the characters are not only devoid of any worthy qualities but in addition demonstrate repeatedly an inability to do anything about it. The characters in the series have little if any "arc", rather they simply flat-line. In my efforts to find at least one character who might muster a bit of oomph, I finally gave up and started rooting for Thomas Barrow, the evil butler with the Machiavellian moves. I was all primed for him to be driven over the edge by his self-administered anti-gay remedy, grab a souvenir saber from the Boer War, and slash to ribbons everyone that had come downstairs for the afternoon tea. When the writers slacked off in the 4th season and allowed Barrow to demonstrate a glimmer of kindness with no ulterior motive, my hopes were dashed.
Cast Notes:
Violet Grantham, Dowager Countess of Grantham - I admit to enjoying Maggie Smith's character at first but then the insertion of her smug wisecracks became formulaic and seemed to be the sole purpose chosen by the show's writers for her presence in the latter seasons. I am still waiting for someone to ask Violet how a smart ass like herself can explain having raised an offspring the likes of a hopeless doofus such as her son Robert Crawley, Earle of Grantham.
Lady Mary Crawley - Middle name - Morticia? Her appearance has to be the result of long hot baths in pure bleach. She represents the height of snobbery and self-indulgence. On the rare occasions when her focus extends beyond "What's in it for me?", she relishes belittling her sister Edith unmercifully and bemoaning the loss of her husband Matthew, forgetting of course that she turned him away on numerous occasions as beneath her station. The most priceless scenes in the entire series are when Mary attempts to participate in conversations where human beings and relationships are discussed.
Lady Edith Crawley - The feminine embodiment of Casper Milquetoast who (1) requires the complex machinations by others to rescue her and her daughter Marigold from disasters of her own making; and (2), for some unknown reason can't bring herself to deliver to her sister Mary a well deserved and long overdue "go fuck herself."
Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham - Mother of Mary and Edith, evidently a firm proponent of laissez-faire parenting and the constant bearer of an idiotic grin that surely stems from her abuse of laudanum (tincture of opium). Nothing else could explain (1) her never having had a "come to Jesus" meeting with her two seriously unbalanced daughters; and (2), offering more than the time of day to Simon Bricker, the Ichabod Crane look-a-like and art historian who tried to get into her pants.
Image from Disney's Legend of Sleepy Hollow
Robert Crawley, Earle of Grantham - Robert Crawley is fittingly played by Hugh Bonneville in the series as the character's IQ appears to match that of a 1962 Pontiac. I suspect Mr. Bonneville's future in films may suffer a fate similar to George Reeves once he was cast as Superman in the 1950s. The few times the studios tried casting Reeves in a different role, movie audiences would invariably point to the screen in unison and call out "It's a bird, it's a plane , it's Superman." Reeves' career understandably hit a wall and he died at the age of 45 from either a self-inflicted, or accidental gun shot wound, depending upon the conspiracy theory of your choice. If Mr. Bonneville were to appear in something other than Downton, viewers may be hard pressed to think of anyone other than the bungling buffoon of Grantham.
Clark Kent/Superman with Jimmy Olsen - photo from pinterest.com
Tom Branson - Tom was the family chauffeur who wed Sybil, the youngest of Robert and Cora's three daughters. Sybil was the sole family member to harbor any misgivings concerning the socioeconomic landscape beyond the confines of their country estate, but the good die young and she passed away shortly after giving birth to a baby girl. When Tom later announces his intentions to leave with his daughter and join his cousin in America, I thought for a moment that at least one of the characters might actually be permitted by the writers to remove his head from his ass, only to learn later that Tom relents in the final season and brings his daughter back to Downton for good. I assume this event will be accompanied by a special effects underground shot of Sybil turning over in her grave.
Anna Smith and John Bates - When they are not in prison, Anna works as a lady's maid to Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham; and John works as a valet to Robert Crawley, Earle of Grantham. Here we are subjected to a couple whose co-existence produces the ultimate shit magnet. Since I abandoned watching the series I probably missed an episode where this cheery duo manages to turn finding a winning Irish Sweepstakes ticket into a gauntlet of unimaginable misery and demeaning circumstances. Surprisingly, these two probably offer the best prospect for a spin-off. Although strictly targeted at a masochistic niche, it could easily reach a level of unrelenting despair not seen since the 1932 Paul Muni film, I Am A Fugitive From a Chain Gang.
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