Depressing, distressing, disheartening, disappointing, and a little dull . . . if you didn't see the 2012 Downton Abbey Christmas Special on Christmas Day then give thanks because it would have snuffed out what holiday cheer you might have been feeling, snuffed it out just as surely as Matthew Crawley's life was snuffed out at the very moment of his greatest joy and minutes before the episode itself slammed to a close.
In all fairness, writer Julian Fellowes was up against some serious hurdles, not to mention the awkwardness of a British Christmas special, which is apparently just a longer series episode that may or may not have anything to do with Christmas—this one takes place in September. It must be difficult to film in Britain in the winter, making seasonal stories hard to produce (recall the green trees and lawns, ineptly camouflaged with fog, of Downton's otherwise superb 2011 Christmas special). Moreover, the Downton Christmas specials are not so much "specials" as lengthy finales to the finale. If you miss them, then you've missed vital plot developments; they are not extra.
Such confusion aside, Fellowes faced a daunting challenge: the departure of his leading man, Dan Stevens, whose portrayal of Matthew Crawley has been central to Downton's plot. In many ways, the main story has always been his, the story of a middle-class lawyer chosen by fate to be the heir of a great aristocratic dynasty. Moreover, Matthew has always thoroughly embodied the show's central theme, the clash of traditional upper-class values with the more progressive values of the twentieth century. Even worse than Stevens' departure was the fact that every informed viewer already knew he was planning to leave. How and when Matthew would be dispatched offered the only hint of suspense in the Christmas special. Sudden illness was out, since his one-time fiancé already went that way. It had to be an explosion or a crash, perhaps a gun backfiring while deerstalking, perhaps a train derailment. As it turns out, it would be a car crash. Among the final scenes of this holiday treat is a shot of Matthew's head, eyes wide open, lying bloody in a ravine by the road from the hospital where he has just held his newborn son.
Until that horrifying moment, there is little more of interest than the old Crawley gang in new surroundings, a romantic castle in the highlands of Scotland. The setting does not disappoint, especially the magnificent countryside (the interiors are also beautiful—Downtown Abbey, but with weapons, bagpipes, and antlers). The visit itself is not a lot of fun. Cousin "Shrimpy," Marquess of Flintshire, and his grumpy frump of a wife bicker constantly; their daughter Rose (yes, that Rose!) struggles to break free of their constraints; a posting to India hangs over their heads; the estate is in financial collapse. It's really hard to care; we don't know these people. The gillies' ball is fun, but mostly it's just another servants' ball, this time with Scottish reels and a wildly whirling, very drunk Mr. Molesley.
There is more fun for those left at Downton, where (almost) everyone visits the local fair. Mrs. Patmore attracts a "fancy man," though he turns out to be nothing more than a portly womanizer with an eye for good cooking. Doctor Clarkson has his eye on Isobel and his mind on marriage (which could have made for an interesting plot development but goes absolutely nowhere). Mrs. Hughes dispenses sage advice when needed. Mr. Carson cares for baby Sybil while everyone is out for the day, a scene that makes it easy to forgive his occasional pomposity. While trying to protect his beloved Jimmy, Thomas takes a severe beating from village thugs. Tom Branson, still grieving, uncertain and lonely, suffers misdirection at the hands of a cheeky new housemaid. Amongst the few joys of this Christmas special is a good long look at Allen Leech bare-chested (thank you, Father Christmas). In fact, if you like handsome young men and if you're moved by their physical and emotional suffering, then this really is the episode for you: Thomas bruised and battered, Branson sobbing his heart out, Matthew bloody on the ground. Merry Christmas.
Viewers cannot help but feel trepidation as Downton travels on from here. If the rapid change of the first part of the last century is to continue as a central theme, then who will now become the embodiments of progress? Two of the more progressive characters, Sybil and Matthew, lie in premature graves. Isobel can carry the torch, but she's an old lady. Branson hasn't yet regained his confidence (Violet speaks of him as if he were a house-trained dog). Cora's hint of American spunk might come to the fore, and Edith might continue to assert herself, but there's not much else on which to pin hope for the future. Mary remains something of an enigma. The series, though always a confection rather than a main meal, has to be about more than Mr. Carson fretting over the fish knives, the Dowager Countess making snobbish wisecracks, and a growing population of ghosts floating about the place. The Christmas episode's unwelcome gift has been to leave us in doubt about the future of the series. Downton has an heir, born at last into Lord Grantham's direct line, but everything else is uncertain. Where do we go from here?
In all fairness, writer Julian Fellowes was up against some serious hurdles, not to mention the awkwardness of a British Christmas special, which is apparently just a longer series episode that may or may not have anything to do with Christmas—this one takes place in September. It must be difficult to film in Britain in the winter, making seasonal stories hard to produce (recall the green trees and lawns, ineptly camouflaged with fog, of Downton's otherwise superb 2011 Christmas special). Moreover, the Downton Christmas specials are not so much "specials" as lengthy finales to the finale. If you miss them, then you've missed vital plot developments; they are not extra.
Such confusion aside, Fellowes faced a daunting challenge: the departure of his leading man, Dan Stevens, whose portrayal of Matthew Crawley has been central to Downton's plot. In many ways, the main story has always been his, the story of a middle-class lawyer chosen by fate to be the heir of a great aristocratic dynasty. Moreover, Matthew has always thoroughly embodied the show's central theme, the clash of traditional upper-class values with the more progressive values of the twentieth century. Even worse than Stevens' departure was the fact that every informed viewer already knew he was planning to leave. How and when Matthew would be dispatched offered the only hint of suspense in the Christmas special. Sudden illness was out, since his one-time fiancé already went that way. It had to be an explosion or a crash, perhaps a gun backfiring while deerstalking, perhaps a train derailment. As it turns out, it would be a car crash. Among the final scenes of this holiday treat is a shot of Matthew's head, eyes wide open, lying bloody in a ravine by the road from the hospital where he has just held his newborn son.
Until that horrifying moment, there is little more of interest than the old Crawley gang in new surroundings, a romantic castle in the highlands of Scotland. The setting does not disappoint, especially the magnificent countryside (the interiors are also beautiful—Downtown Abbey, but with weapons, bagpipes, and antlers). The visit itself is not a lot of fun. Cousin "Shrimpy," Marquess of Flintshire, and his grumpy frump of a wife bicker constantly; their daughter Rose (yes, that Rose!) struggles to break free of their constraints; a posting to India hangs over their heads; the estate is in financial collapse. It's really hard to care; we don't know these people. The gillies' ball is fun, but mostly it's just another servants' ball, this time with Scottish reels and a wildly whirling, very drunk Mr. Molesley.
There is more fun for those left at Downton, where (almost) everyone visits the local fair. Mrs. Patmore attracts a "fancy man," though he turns out to be nothing more than a portly womanizer with an eye for good cooking. Doctor Clarkson has his eye on Isobel and his mind on marriage (which could have made for an interesting plot development but goes absolutely nowhere). Mrs. Hughes dispenses sage advice when needed. Mr. Carson cares for baby Sybil while everyone is out for the day, a scene that makes it easy to forgive his occasional pomposity. While trying to protect his beloved Jimmy, Thomas takes a severe beating from village thugs. Tom Branson, still grieving, uncertain and lonely, suffers misdirection at the hands of a cheeky new housemaid. Amongst the few joys of this Christmas special is a good long look at Allen Leech bare-chested (thank you, Father Christmas). In fact, if you like handsome young men and if you're moved by their physical and emotional suffering, then this really is the episode for you: Thomas bruised and battered, Branson sobbing his heart out, Matthew bloody on the ground. Merry Christmas.
Viewers cannot help but feel trepidation as Downton travels on from here. If the rapid change of the first part of the last century is to continue as a central theme, then who will now become the embodiments of progress? Two of the more progressive characters, Sybil and Matthew, lie in premature graves. Isobel can carry the torch, but she's an old lady. Branson hasn't yet regained his confidence (Violet speaks of him as if he were a house-trained dog). Cora's hint of American spunk might come to the fore, and Edith might continue to assert herself, but there's not much else on which to pin hope for the future. Mary remains something of an enigma. The series, though always a confection rather than a main meal, has to be about more than Mr. Carson fretting over the fish knives, the Dowager Countess making snobbish wisecracks, and a growing population of ghosts floating about the place. The Christmas episode's unwelcome gift has been to leave us in doubt about the future of the series. Downton has an heir, born at last into Lord Grantham's direct line, but everything else is uncertain. Where do we go from here?
