Downton Abbey closed out its run on Sunday night with a finale that tied up every loose end with a smiley-face sticker: Clearly creator Julian Fellowes had decided there would be no surprise deaths or lingering unhappiness settling over this series like a funereal fog. Instead, to quote the Anglican hymn Lord Grantham probably doesn’t know because he’s not a regular church-goer, all things bright and beautiful suffused Downton with a rainbow of contentment.
My biggest worry had been about Mr. Carson’s wine-pouring hand, and while even Fellowes knows that only God can stop the palsy, he is a god-like dramatist who engineered the return of the now-thoroughly-redeemed Barrow so that they can go into their lackluster futures helping each other in co-butlering.
Lady Edith was reunited with the P.G. Wodehousian Bertie, and made amends with her sister, telling Mary what the ice queen already knew: “You make me miserable for years and then you give me my life back.” Me, I liked it better when Edith simply called Mary a bitch.
That said, I should emphasize that I am eternally pro-Mary. Glad to see she’ll be as happy as Mary can be with her used-car salesman — you know, the Guy Who Should Have Stayed On The Good Wife.
(Speaking of things American, thank goodness Shirley MacLaine didn’t make a return cameo — Fellowes must have wisely concluded that her character was, along with Paul Giamatti as Lady Grantham’s brother, the low point of broad humor in this series.)
The baby boy born to Anna and Bates ought to finally put a smile on Anna’s sad face, but given her neurotic inability to be happy, I’m sure she’ll soon be turning a stricken gaze upon Bates, and confess she’s sick with worry that the infant is having trouble feeding at her unworthy breast.
My biggest worry had been about Mr. Carson’s wine-pouring hand, and while even Fellowes knows that only God can stop the palsy, he is a god-like dramatist who engineered the return of the now-thoroughly-redeemed Barrow so that they can go into their lackluster futures helping each other in co-butlering.
Lady Edith was reunited with the P.G. Wodehousian Bertie, and made amends with her sister, telling Mary what the ice queen already knew: “You make me miserable for years and then you give me my life back.” Me, I liked it better when Edith simply called Mary a bitch.
That said, I should emphasize that I am eternally pro-Mary. Glad to see she’ll be as happy as Mary can be with her used-car salesman — you know, the Guy Who Should Have Stayed On The Good Wife.
(Speaking of things American, thank goodness Shirley MacLaine didn’t make a return cameo — Fellowes must have wisely concluded that her character was, along with Paul Giamatti as Lady Grantham’s brother, the low point of broad humor in this series.)
The baby boy born to Anna and Bates ought to finally put a smile on Anna’s sad face, but given her neurotic inability to be happy, I’m sure she’ll soon be turning a stricken gaze upon Bates, and confess she’s sick with worry that the infant is having trouble feeding at her unworthy breast.
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