 |
| Can Branson continue to dance with Duchesses or is it time for him to move on? |
It’s taken me four seasons, but I think I’ve finally cracked
the Downton Abbey code. All season long, I’ve complained about series
creator and writer Julian Fellowes’s seemingly contentious relationship with
modernity. I’ve wanted the show’s
characters to progress, to really embrace the culture of the 1920s. Following the end of World War I, women
earned the right to run for Parliament and some women gained the right to vote,
having proven themselves just as capable of running the country while the men
were away at war. Women were also
staking their initial claims on sexual independence, having finally gained the
upper hand in no small part due to the deaths of almost five percent of the
British male population. Finally, the age
of the landed gentry was coming to a close.
As Mr. Blake makes clear throughout the fourth season, many of the old
estates are struggling, burdened by the rising demands on their income.
The 1920s were a time of great change. Women were gaining power, personally and
politically. Blacks and other racial
minorities were gaining some semblance of freedom if not real equality. Even gay rights were coming to the forefront,
as Britain’s first gay pub opened in 1913 and several gay artists were living
openly. Obviously, 1920s Britain was not
a bastion of equality, but it was moving in that direction. And yet, Downton remains a stalwart against
progress. The world changes around it,
but the estate and its occupants do their best to remain stagnant.
Stagnancy may just be what Fellowes is going for, though. It’s very easy to see his version of Downton
as a fixed point in time.* To him, the
British estates represent the peak of the British Empire, and it is this legacy
that the Downton stakeholders are attempting to maintain. While the most staid members of the estate
(Robert and Carson) are willing to begrudge at least a little progress, they
still stubbornly insist that Downton remain a cultural icon of the Golden Age
of the British aristocracy. Just
consider the way that Carson treats the Levinsons’ American butler. He’s willing to accept that, in America, “my
employer is Mr. Levinson, not me.” But
the only logical response for Carson is to declare that “in this house you both
are.” The world may change, but Downton
must remain set apart: a cultural icon and representation of the past unsullied
by the muddy waters of progress.
* For those unfamiliar
with Britain’s other main cultural export to the United States, Doctor Who, a fixed point in time is an event that
cannot be changed without creating vast, cataclysmic consequences.
The key part of being a fixed point in time is that, when
you violate it – when you try to change things – all hell breaks loose. We’ve seen this time and again in Downton Abbey, dating back to when Lady
Mary first invited Kemal Pamuk into her bed in the third episode of the
series. His subsequent death made clear
very early on that any violations of the sanctity of the social mores at
Downton will have devastating repercussions.
The rest of the Crawley ladies have likewise been the
recipients of Downton’s karmic chaos. Edith
is involved in a perfectly happy, if on-the-down-low liaison with her editor
until she brings him and their unconventional relationship to Downton. Within two episodes, Michael is missing in
Germany and Edith is pregnant with their illegitimate child. “Women shall not date married men,” declares
Downton.
Sybil demonstrated the only real way to be socially
progressive in Downton: she left. She
took her unconventional relationship to Ireland so that she could escape the
unflinching world in which she grew up.
Of course, once she decides to return home to give birth to her “half-breed”
child (the nanny’s words, not mine), all bets were off. And the price she paid for breaking decorum
was her life. It seems like Branson
should have suffered a similar fate, but he seems to have avoided any
punishment by completely shedding his old life to don the outfit of the
elite. Gone are his socialist
revolutionary politics. In their place,
he has substituted white tie dinners and dancing with Duchesses. Sure, he seems to bristle at the prospect of a lifetime of aristocracy, but at this
moment he acts like no less a Crawley than had he been born one.
The way, then, that Downton so effectively ruins those who
would bring progress to it leaves three characters in particularly precarious
positions as season four comes to a close.
Lady Mary seems to be the safest, for while she’s definitely pushing the
limits of what women are allowed to do in the aristocracy, she is still a
member of the landed class and her work at Downton is being done largely as the
caretaker of the estate’s true heir, George, her son.
Edith and Branson are not in so protected a position
however. Edith has made the questionable
decision to have a local farmer raise her child, with only the two of them
ostensibly knowing the truth. But let’s
be real, here. The number of people who
knew Edith was pregnant is at least a half dozen and there’s no way she’s going
to be content to just let her baby grow up down the road without checking in
every once and in a while. At some point,
she’s going to get caught and questions will be raised about why she’s visiting
a stranger’s child. The potential savior
of the situation would be the return of Michael Gregson,* but that seems like
an increasingly unlikely proposition at this point, especially given the reputation
of the Brownshirts
he allegedly encountered.
* Dowton Abbey is a soap opera, after all. No body, no death.
Finally, Branson’s position lies somewhere in between those
of Mary and Edith. He’s obviously quite
fond of the young socialist teacher.
But sneaking around Downton, even if it wasn’t really “sneaking,” is not
a good way to get in the house’s good graces.
Who knows if this is going anywhere, but Branson’s unease about how
quickly he has assimilated into aristocratic life has been palpable all season
long. It seems unlikely that he’s going
to be able to withhold his true feelings for long, so it’s really more a
question of whether he’ll leave Downton to pursue his progressive politics or
if he’ll stay and tempt fate.
So four seasons and more than a decade in, this is where we
stand.* The world is moving on from
feudal England, but the estates are making their final, valiant stand against
progress. What will define Downton Abbey in the seasons to come is
whether it will invite that progress in or if it will force anybody seeking
change to do it elsewhere and continue to punish those revolutionaries who stay
home.
* It’s hard to believe
that the series premiere came in the wake of the sinking of the Titanic in 1912
and it’s now 1923.
A couple of spare thoughts –
I feel a little bad about largely ignoring the downstairs
staff this season but, really, aside from Bates and Anna, have they done
anything of note? Ivy’s been on the show
all year, but now that she’s leaving for America, the only things I really know
about her are that she was the subject of Alfred’s unrequited love and that she
didn’t appreciate it when Jimmy got a little frisky. Nothing much else happened with the staff
apart from the continuing misadventures of Molesley.
Paul Giamatti was too self-deprecating by half for my tastes
but he was quite good in this episode and I enjoyed his storyline of trying to
fend off the broke Lord Aysgarth’s advances on his mother. Also, it’s nice to have actual Americans
playing Americans for once, because boy are some Brits doing awful American
accents on this show. I’m looking at
you, Jack Ross and “Mr. Levinson.”
I also enjoyed how, unlike in Poe’s The Purloined Letter, in this episode, everybody but Bates wants to
read the prince’s scandalous letter.
There are no boundaries in the aristocracy, apparently.
More Janet Montgomery (Freda Dudley Ward), please. She’s just great.
So thoughts?
Comments? Just want to tell me my
blog sucks? Let me know in the comments
or on Twitter @TyTalksTV
No comments:
Post a Comment