SPOILER ALERT: This blog is for people watching Downton Abbey series six. Don’t read on if you haven’t seen series six, episode two.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, I think I might start listening to The Archers. I came into this series with an open mind, impressed by the quality of the trailers and the general air of things having improved. I even began to think that not only would this series perhaps equal the quality of series one, I wondered if a miracle might happen and it might even surpass it. After two outings now, frankly, I think you would get more entertainment out of Mr Drewe’s pigs, whether you were a prime minister or not.
So many “low stakes” plotlines are developing and this worries me. The burden on the actors to spin gold out of Malton Show manure is intolerable. Daisy’s transition into a cross between Lenin and Jeremy Corbyn is not only not believable, it’s an echo of a previous unsuccessful plotline. Likewise the business of Lady Mary becoming the agent: this is Lady Edith as editor reworked. And it’s particularly traumatic to see Thomas’s impact so pointlessly reduced. Thomas (Rob James-Collier) was once one of the great Downton characters.
“When do you need me, Mr Carson?” “When indeed?”
I’m just not sure that Carson would bully Thomas like this. If he really disliked him, he would get rid of him. And he has no reason to dislike him (aside from his “unnatural” side, obviously, which Mr Carson never approved of and that’s all been dealt with ages ago). Plus, wouldn’t Mr Carson be slightly changed by his impending nuptials? And surely this would make him better disposed to Thomas, not worse?
We are left with the following questions. They’re not going to sustain a series but still we are expected to play along anyway. Which of the servants will be first to leave? Will Anna have a baby? Will Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes get married at the Abbey? Will Daisy’s father-in-law get turfed out of his house? Will Lady Mary work out who The Impostor Child really is?
Like I say, these subplots would all work wonderfully in The Archers. Here they feel exhausting and pointless. Still, we find entertainment where we can. They are going to London to see Dr Rider! I do hope he is not the same gynaecologist who killed Sybil. And, lo, Uncle Julian has been Googling again: “cervical incompetence.” I do hope he didn’t come across any nastiness online before he happened upon that.
Random subplot alert
This whole thing is just one big subplot, ever since we lost sight of the crucial matter of the settling of the “entail” in series one. (Who remembers the entail? Pour yourself an extra sherry if you do.)
But the most successful subplot at the moment is the wedding of “Elsie” and Mr Carson. If there is to be a wedding, that is. “It’s not us. It’s not who we are. It may be where we work. But it’s not who we are.” Plinky-plonky violin music at the ready as the battle lines are drawn. “The wedding day is mine!”
Meanwhile Anna and Bates are giving Oscar-worthy performances whilst discussing the miscarriage problem.
“You’re married and that means you never have to cry alone again … Have you ever thought about adoption?”
“You are tribal, Mr Bates …”
“To me, we are one person and that person can’t have children.”
This is all very miserable, though. And – again – it’s Groundhog Day. We’ve seen Anna and Bates suffer too much. Give them a change of tone, Uncle Julian! Some joy. Or even some scheming. Or a humiliation. Anything but more misery. Poor Anna must have run out of hankies by now. I am not even going to mention the hospital.
Surprise character development
Well, this was a surprise for all of two seconds, until everything went back to normal. Why couldn’t The Editor have been brainwashed by the Nazis (the party was founded in 1920, so this would work – I too can Google, Uncle Julian!), faked his own death and travelled incognito back from Germany to kidnap The Impostor Child and take her back to Berlin to reign over the Third Reich as the true Führer?
Instead, soppy Mrs Drewe (who could have “borrowed” Miss Marigold at any point over the past two years) took the child for a short drive home in the pig truck. The poor Impostor Child must be so bloody confused.
I confess, though, that dreamboat Mr Drewe (Andrew Scarborough) has temporarily surpassed Molesley in my affections. “No, my darling, I’m not angry at all …” Possibly, however, I am simply desperate for any feeling other than massive exasperation.
Golden eyebrow of the week award
In a move unprecedented over the past five years of writing this blog (is it five or 50? I forget), I am going to award the golden eyebrow not to Mr Carson reacting to Lady Mary (“Your reception will be in the Great Hall if it’s the last thing I do.), not to the farmer reacting to the news that Lady Mary is the agent (“It’s a changing world …”) and not to Mr Drewe’s pigs, who looked exceptionally shocked at the sudden disappearance of Miss Marigold.
No, I am afraid that this week I am going to have to award the golden eyebrow to myself.
Because the upper features of my face were blasted sky high by this phrase from Mr Drewe, talking to the Earl of Grantham about the Impostor Child business:
“We made a plan. But we forgot about emotion. And emotion’s what can trip you up every time.”
WHAT? This man is a pig farmer. It is 1925. Is it really necessary for him to talk like a psychotherapist on The Jeremy Kyle Show? I rest my case about anachronistic speech. And this wasn’t just anachronistic, it was something that no living and breathing person would say ever.
Excuse me, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue?
“As usual, you add two and two and make 53.” Lady Edith is the only person who can skewer Lady Mary’s icy demeanour.
“She is an important figure in my life. I won’t apologise.” Carson’s pash on Lady Mary knows no bounds, even when it comes to his wedding day.
“I like to walk on my own, if I’m honest.” Too right, Andy, especially if your potential companion is Thomas.
“Do you want to come and see Lady Mary showing off her pigs?” It’s this sort of thing that got Mr Pamuk into trouble.
“I hope you’re not implying that she would be more powerful than I.” “Oh no, indeed.” The doctor’s finest moment as he swiftly reassures Cousin Violet (AKA Conan the Destroyer) that no one has more power than she.
Next week
Cousin Violet: “Did you drink at luncheon?” Cousin Isobel: “No, I did not.” Lady Edith finds love! Spratt and Denker are back at war! And “Elsie” is finally getting married. Or is she?
