When poor writers write themselves into corners or are at a loss how to wring the last reluctant drops out of a faltering franchise drained pretty much dry years ago, they resolve this problem by introducing a plot device out of the blue; something not foreshadowed or that makes little sense. In our previous blogs about Downton Abbey, we have time and again raised and flagged up the recurring problems with the TV series – weak writing, endless recycling, reliance on deus ex machina, bad transitioning, hammy and wooden acting, as well as expositional dialogue. The films have been no better and if anything, the flaws are magnified more on a multiplex screen, and this time the divine intervention device of the unexpected windfall, not having been used for a while, creaks into action to save the Crawleys yet again.
The first film featured a contrived royal visit which pandered to crude characterisation and stereotypes not to mention wholly misrepresenting Princess Mary. Crucially it also misrepresented royal tours and visits after the First World War, where King George V and Queen Mary focused more on the industrial heartlands meeting and talking to the urban working poor, not obscure villages, and second-rate aristocrats.
The sequel however is no better. Whilst the first film was a recycling of the series 4 Christmas special with the wheeling out of the royals, this sequel is a part recycling of series 5 with the storyline featuring, yet again, an episode from the Dowager Countess’ past where a Frenchman she has encountered decades back has left her his villa in the South of France. Mysterious person family has never heard of, never met and never knew existed has decided to very generously remember in his will a family HE has never met and never heard of and thus solve all their financial problems. Now where have we heard something like this before? Mystery and miracle inheritances are a favourite trope of Julian Fellowes, he’s done this before when Matthew is left a very convenient bequest from his should have been father-in-law Reginald Swire which saves Downton Abbey from financial ruin.
After announcing the news of this windfall, the Dowager Countess decides to leave it to her oldest great-granddaughter Sybbie Branson since the other great-grandchildren will be provided for. With what, we wonder, given that the family is on its uppers? However, the Frenchman’s family is far from happy about being disinherited – which is not surprising. Being cut out of inheriting a villa in a very desirable part of the South of France that’s currently very popular with people who have lots of money looking to rent property for months and in favour of the British?? Yeah, I’d be pissed, too. This miracle bequest becomes an excuse for some of the characters to have a jolly away from the Abbey where the viewers are treated to well-worn clichés of louche aristocrats living the high life on the French Riviera complete with Josephine Baker-esque performer making an appearance.
Despite the continued boasts of “Downton Abbey is extensively researched and 100% accurate” someone clearly didn’t google “French inheritance laws” before putting fingers to laptop. There is no way the Dowager Countess would have inherited this villa as French inheritance laws were and are very strict. Based on Roman law and unlike Anglo-Saxon common law, families can never be disinherited; especially not in favour of some random stranger with whom grandpère had une amitié amoureuse decades ago. This is the reason why foreigners who buy property in France need to retain the services of a very good lawyer; because they might have to buy out all the relatives who have a claim and in the absence of good legal advice and/or an incomplete or vague will, wrangles can go on for years.
This part of the storyline has some echoes of what happened to Vita Sackville-West’s mother, Victoria Lady Sackville, who had a close friendship with the fabulously wealthy Sir John Murray Scott: a man who owned property in Britain and France as well as a superb collection of art. As one of Sackville-West’s biographers Matthew Dennison observed “[l]ike many rich men, Sir John had enjoyed playing a cat-and-mouse game with family and friends over the contents of his will, which extended to numerous bequests.” Lady Sackville was accused to exerting undue influence on Sir John to make her a substantial beneficiary of his will and the resulting court case brought her notoriety as well as having to wash her dirty linen in public.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch – while some of the family go on their jolly to the South of France, a film company has hired Downton Abbey as a location for a new movie that they are making. The money the company is offering is too good to resist as the estate has been struggling financially. The arrival of the film’s stars and the crew send the servants into tizzies of excitement. What happens next is almost a blow-by-blow recycling of the 1952 film classic Singin’ in the Rain.
I find it hard to believe that a film studio would decide to do a location shoot: during the late 1920s, most films were filmed on a studio set where everything is done in house and all the equipment, props, costumes and crew were within easy reach. Location filming was very rare unless they were shooting an outdoor scene such as battles for war films. Filming on an indoor location like Downton Abbey would not be utilised until the 1950s and even then, many films and television programmes would confine themselves to filming in studio sets until the 1980s.
And while stately homes today are used as locations for various film, TV productions and adverts, in 1928 this would have been unthinkable not only because it would have been logistically impossible but even for a struggling aristocratic family, it would have been seen as vulgar to be associated with the film industry.
Downton Abbey: A New Era yet again shows up the persistent issues with both the TV series and the films. Plausibility has certainly been thrown out of the window with this sequel and Fellowes certainly gives more than enough ammunition to his critics who have said from the beginning that Downton Abbey is nothing but a period soap: as illustrated by the insinuation that the Dowager Countess would jeopardise the paternity of any of her putative children, knowing full well the rules of the aristocracy and the importance of legitimacy. Just as with the equally unbelievable Russian prince storyline in series 5, is Fellowes trying to say that the Dowager Countess was such an irresistible siren that men can’t help falling for her and that she’s so unforgettable that these men would remember her even after the passage of so long a time? Still, it does give Fellowes another chance to roll out the “let’s publicly humiliate Robert in front of his family” bandwagon.
Another thing that’s clear in this sequel is that the family are still very much in denial with their financial issues and are continuing to resort to half-hearted and sticking plaster solutions, this time renting out the Abbey as a film set. So, what has happened to Grantham House? The alleged “Gutenberg” bible? ‘the “Piero della Francesca”? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if the Crawleys were indeed serious about putting their financial house in order both the London house and the alleged bible not to mention land, jewels and decorative arts would have been sold and economies made. Nor would they hire new footmen if they’re having cash flow problems. By this point, the vast majority of young people would rather be in jobs where they would not be at the beck and call of an employer almost 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and 365/6 days a year; especially when that employer in the depths of the country and miles from a cinema or dance hall.
The poet Horace in the Ars Poetica (lines 191-2 if you’re interested) said that no god should intervene in the action unless there’s a problem that needs a solution. It doesn’t require divine intervention or a French villa to solve the Crawleys’ financial problems – most people who can balance their bank accounts and see where expenditure is exceeding income could do that for them. Hand the house to the National Trust, flog off the remaining treasures, downsize with a handful of servants to the house they were looking at in series 3 and crucially, tell Robert, Mary and the Dowager that the financial times they are not just a “changin,” they HAVE changed and they can’t carry on living as if it’s 1850. Oh, and that when they have no money to fix the roof it’s a bit bloody silly to decamp complete with servants to the South of France, especially when they are relying on an inheritance, they have already been told is going to someone else and especially not before talking to their solicitor about their chances of inheriting under a totally different legal system. Still, given that if they had listened to this solicitor about not investing in Canadian railways, they wouldn’t be clutching at these financial straws anyway, the chances of them actually doing something that sensible is a plot consistency far too far for Lord F.
In the end apart from the scenery and some of the costumes, the sequel is nothing home to write about. The title itself is very misleading since despite the ending, its patently clear that it’s not “A New Era” we’re seeing, more like the continuation of the same old, same old that we’ve seen before. Several times.
And better yet, rent or buy Singin’ in the Rain if you want to truly see how films were done in the 1920s. It demonstrates movie making and the goings on in the film industry in an entertaining, educational, and enjoyable way that this film has failed to impart. The script is miles better, there’s Gene Kelly dancing, and when you roar with laughter at what’s happening onscreen the writers did actually mean you to be laughing.
Enough of this Tomfoolery! 