Of all of our modern institutions, Marks & Spencer is surely the most
indispensable. Governments come in handy, hospitals pitch in now and again, but
it's those green plastic carrier bags that most assuredly stop us from heading
the same way as the Neanderthals. Last Tuesday, on my bi-weekly pilgrimage to
the Temple of Twiggy, I was reminded of just why we’re so indebted to store’s
namesakes. Just as the Egyptians relied on grandiose obelisks to tell the time
of year, we need Marks and Sparks to signal
the change of seasons, to give some import to the months on our calendars. This
week, Marksies proclaimed the
beginning of the end for 2012; in my local branch, shelf upon shelf of
reindeer- and holly-adorned cards heralded the approach of December, and enormous
tins of biscuits signaled the end of beach-body worries. Yes, it’s been given
the sacred green light; Christmas is round the corner, and the omnipotent M&S says it’s going to be as
overdone as ever.
Christmas, Marks’ divines, seems to be something that we readily slip back into
year in year out, despite gorging ourselves silly on it just 11 months before
and not giving it a moment’s thought ever since. Why? Because it’s just that good. It doesn’t need yearlong
plugging or some primped up format; we’ll take it back exactly as we saw it
off. Here’s where I justify this rambling preamble. TV shows (or, I should say,
good TV shows) are accustomed to this very same warm welcome when they return
for another stint on screen. Doctor Who
does it with ease. Strictly does it
pretty well, and The X Factor would
do it better if it weren’t for its shape-shifting panel. Last Sunday, it was Downton Abbey’s turn, and judging by the
praise it’s scooped since, it did it better than all of them.
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| Sign of the times: Downton dominates September telly |
What furnishes Downton with the ability to pull us all back, now to its third
season and to sprawling, decade-long plots, is its mastery of drama. All drama.
Downton can deal with death in one
scene and with the wrong cutlery being laid out in the next, treating each with
equal gravitas. It doesn’t discriminate between the ladies and the lady’s maid,
and with deft writing makes us genuinely (annoyingly) care about what Mrs.
Patmore’s got planned for dinner just as much as we care about the Crawley
sisters’ love lives (or certainly Lady Edith’s). In one of last week’s
heavyweight storylines, Bates (Brendan Coyle) remained incarcerated for a murder he may or may
not have committed as Anna (Joanne Froggatt) set about trying to prove his innocence. Not since
Richard Hillman has a murder plot been so titillating; good-guy Bates’
relentless ‘how-do-you-know-I-didn’t-do-it’s, coupled with that sedate smirk
and the refusal to believe this pair will ever really end up happy, would leave
even the most naïve defense lawyer doubting Bates’ clean hands. Equally
engrossing, though, was the appointment of O’Brien’s (Siobhan Finneran's) nephew Alfred (Matt Milne). Though less
obviously of moment, the conflict the new boy sparked between former damnable
duo O’Brien and Thomas (Rob James-Collier) was passably dramatic and, essentially, even a little
funny. The preview for next week, as far as Downton’s
fusion of big and small melodramas goes, offered a resounding relief. Too often
with once-masterful series, producers see fit to make every episode a life or
death, larger than life dilemma from theme tune to credits (I’m looking at you How I Met Your Mother), so it’s
reassuring to see that Downton looks
set to continue to concern itself with all
of it’s characters quibbles and quandaries, be it Lady Mary’s (Michelle Dockery's) betrothal or
Daisy’s (Sophie McShera's) baking mishaps.
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| A tamed shrew? Hope not... |
Comforted though I was that Downton stuck to its tried and tested
format, I couldn’t help but be a little sad at the change in Matthew (Dan Stevens) and Mary’s
now-romantic relationship. For the last two seasons, the pair provided some
almost Cowell/Cole-esque chemistry, a will they/won’t they scenario that
eclipsed even Anna and Bates’ budding romance and thorny lines that Lady
Grantham (Maggie Smith) herself would be proud of. Last week, however, they strolled serenely
in Downton’s grounds and made puppy
dog eyes at each other over the dining table. Mary’s indignation at Matthew’s
refusal to accept the bequest of his ex-fiancé’s father gave them the chance to
get back to their acidy best, but the pair wound up looking more like a
bickering old couple for the majority of the 90-minute premiere. With the show
now in its third run, and the on-off status of Maryhew being so previously
explored, it was unavoidable that the thoroughly watchable courtship couldn’t
last forever; how could a show that romps through months in a single episode
hang on to the same tried and tested character dynamics, no matter how good they
may be? Though the lackluster lovers didn’t do much to enliven last Sunday’s
show, there were hints by the end that we might not have seen the end of Mary’s
feisty best, nor Matthew’s defiant bewilderment of her, and I’m hoping the twosome
shed their newfound vanilla in future episodes despite now being man and wife.
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| Welcome to the family: Branson and Sybil returned from Ireland |
The high point in the series premiere, for
me, was Branson (Allen Leech). In seasons one and two, it was an uphill battle whenever the
family’s driver appeared in a scene; his routine socialism, his sultry,
toddler-like countenance whenever Sybil (Jessica Brown Findlay) mentioned her family’s wealth and that
anticlimactic episode in which he played a footman hardly endeared him to
audiences, plus Lady Grantham never much liked him and she’s a difficult woman
to disagree with. On Sunday, Branson’s change in status from chauffer to in-law
gave him new gusto. His interactions with Sybil’s family, which toward the end
of season two were predictably stale, were last week tense, barbed and
engrossing every time, and his return to the servants’ quarters as a man of
wealth and noble marriage proffered some impeccable Downton-showdowns as he
came face to face with a formidable Carson (Jim Carter). Branson’s newfound bromance with
Matthew (why did they never think of this before?) and their resolve to stick
together after ‘taking on the Crawley sisters’, gave him yet more solid screen
time, plus the chance for Downton to introduce a solid male friendship to
replace Lord Grantham’s and Bates’.
Change, whether it be regrettable as with
Maryhew, or much-called for as with Branson, was something Sunday’s installment
didn’t shy away from, and couldn’t if
the series really is to go on for the future stints that creator Julian
Fellowes has promised. It must be a nag for the show’s writers when their
initial set up won such wide acclaim, but they needed to move their characters’
personal lives on to keep in-step with the ups and downs of 1920s England. And
they did. Glaringly, though, the program’s makers neglected to do the same with
the namesake of the series, Downton itself. When the show first hit our screens
in 2010, it was preoccupied with ‘the future’ of the Abbey, and whether it was
to stay under Crawley control. Matthew’s arrival dually resolved and
complicated the matter, but the wellbeing and ownership of the estate was
always held in near distance, a lingering reminder that Mary needed to pull
Matthew or kiss her childhood home goodbye. Two years on, and this opening
episode was still harping on the same theme, this time around because Lord
Grantham had made a botched railroad investment that saw his family’s wealth
drop faster than Red or Black’s
viewing figures. Though a spot of calamity’s never a bad thing for a drama,
it’s a bit of a pity that its writers couldn’t come up with something more
original, not least because it half-trivializes Mary’s finally bagging herself
the Downton-heir.
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| Nurturing the special relationship: Martha's arrival shook things up |
A final word has to go to Shirley
MacLaine for her stand-out performance as Cora Crawley’s Yank mother, a role
which has seen Shirl take on that of unlikely poster-girl for series three.
True, her best lines were all in the adverts and, yes, Maggie Smith still
outstrips the rest of the cast as far as wit goes, but Martha Levinson’s
character proved last week to be outlandish enough to ruffle feathers but not
enough to wreck the show’s reserve. As the series wears on, I’ve got my fingers
crossed that she and Carson will be locked in a room together for five minutes
as a social experiment on who would crack first. My money’s on the butler.
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