They're Back! Downton Turns Five

Of course, I was there, glued to the screen, with dog on lap.

Maybe it was too much to expect things would start with a whir and launch me, but somehow, a little tedium seemed to creep in.

It all seemed a bit worn at the edges, underdeveloped, the edge dulled.
Even in moments which in past shows were templates for sparks, the dinner parties, things seemed ham handed.  The school teacher, who voices the important objections to Lord Grantham's thinking, is unable to present it in any sort of subversive or withering way, simply states the truth without attention to the inappropriateness of her chosen forum.

Tom winds up gallantly trying to defend her, but as Aunt Violet observes, it was simply the wrong setting, even for the right opinion. 
I could not help but think Matthew would have managed to get the same point across more adroitly.

I'm totally with Maud on this one: Downton is one of those friends whom you love and cannot leave, but who drives you crazy. You endure, despite its faults.


Mary discusses the new openness about matters sexual with her confidant, the wonderful Anna, which sets up her scene with Lord Gillingham, who appears in her bedroom and does not immediately keel over dead, but rather straightfordwardly suggests they try out sex, just to be sure they are compatible in that department--addressing the very thing Mary had voiced concern about to Anna. He would be very much in line with today's Campus Sexual Handbook, asking permission for each step of the process, as if following an instruction manual.

I don't know why, but I expected something a little more elegant from the British aristocracy. I couldn't help but recall how Alfred Hitchcock had handled this, with Grace Kelly, standing outside her bedroom door with Cary Grant, drawing him to her and kissing him and Grant, a little startled, looks at her for meaning, and she says, "Preview of Coming Attractions."

Mary, the ice princess, at least has become more interesting as she has set about rescuing her father and his estate from himself. She has seized leadership of the family because she needs to save the family from her father's 19th century incompetence. But she is not her mother, and one grows weary of ice princesses.

Cora, however, is the one bright light. Maybe the Phantom is simply growing so senescent, he gravitates toward women who are not completely awash in tides of estrogen.   (On the other hand, the randy aristocrat seeking out her servant was the most exciting female in this episode. She, at least, knows what she wants and is not afraid to take it.) Cora, one imagines, might behave the same way, under the right circumstances because she knows what she believes and why. Cora, all things considered, is the most attractive woman in the show.  But her main trait is  a tempered steel kindness, and her sense of justice places her above everyone but Tom.

If Mary could look past class, Tom would be her best choice. But what Mary really needs, at this point in her life is not a solid citizen, not a smart marriage. She needs someone to arouse her from her deep freeze. She is Lady Chatterly, dying by degrees. Even as Mary gets less arch, she is not in touch with her own desires. It's not entirely clear she has desires.  She needs  some of what that lady in bed with the servant is drinking. She reminds us of that comment from another character who lives only in our minds:  Francis Underwood.  "Everything is, ultimately, about sex. Except for sex. Sex is about power."  That is likely true for Underwood, and likely for Mary, but not for the lady in bed with the servant. For her, sex is about life.

For Cora, love is not about power.  Cora, one knows, is the emotional and ethical center of Downton, and its real hero.

Maybe Tom should run off with Cora. Now, there's a show I would watch.