Review: Downton Abbey Series 3, Episode 2

Dear old Downton Abbey is under the threat of a serious case of Melodrama.

Series 3, Episode 2.

It all just got a bit silly. There was a pantomime-style mixing up of costumes, the Earl was mistaken for a waiter, and Daisy’s trusty range broke down provoking ‘runaway train’ Martha to propose a picnic. Claret on the carpet indeed. Maggie Smith, resigned to impropriety, hit the liquor.

After all the are-they/aren’t-they fuss of the last two series, the Crawley girls are suddenly charging up the aisle. Julian Fellowes apparently loves to catch his characters in bed. Poor Ethel (though she’s discovered some fabulous red lippy whilst prowling the streets of York), a candlelit Bates and Anna, and then a pregnant Sybil and the chauffeur—sorry, journalist in Episode One, and now even our high-minded star couple are caught ‘en deshabille’.

Robbed of a proper ‘I do’ scene—Lord knows we could have done with the confirmation they actually, officially tied the knot—and scenic shots of the Riviera or wherever, we must be consoled by the promise of another wedding on the way. For Edith is hot on Mary’s heels with Sir Antony, insistent despite her father and grandmother’s interference. Edith’s remark on there being no young men left alive to otherwise choose from provided a sobering note, and a reminder of the momentum of history and its direct effect on the characters’ (and no doubt our own ancestors’) lives.

Matthew comes into good fortune for a second time in the run of the show—some people have all the luck—but his pride (loyalty/decency, whichever way you look at it) risks one canceling out the other. Unlike her charmingly unpretentious mother, Mary makes use of every opportunity to guilt-trip her husband. However, the sly digs get her nowhere. Following a failed charm offensive, Mary resorts to begging her rich, old American grandmother, who sadly doesn’t see the point of any of it. Indeed, she proves much more likely to shore up musical theatre.

Which side to take? Self-destructing idealist or selfish preservationist? Neither side can be accused of being unfeeling. At the risk of appearing trenchant, I must admit that somehow ‘Downton Place’ doesn’t hold quite the same viewing attraction…

The rather touching—if under-explored—partnership of housekeeper and cook reflecting together on their mortality underlines the sense of inevitability surrounding Downton’s destiny. Hopefully there’ll always be room for Carson, the great big softy, even if not for ‘style’. Rather less doom-laden below-stairs, there appears to be no lust lost between ‘modern American girl’ Miss Reed and Alfred; the romance is refereed by Daisy, who, bless her, really needs to cheer up and stop being so easily led.

Oh and I’m suddenly a little bit scared of Bates, just to put it out there.