“With any luck, they’ll be happy enough. Which is the English version of a happy ending.” — The Dowager Countess The last Downton Abbey of season six — and, also, my dear friends, the last Downton Abbey ever — provides more than the English version of a happy ending. It’s an ending that’s happy by any standard. In keeping with the Downton tradition of making the Christmas episodes as celebratory as possible, this most final of finales is a supersized parade of new beginnings, fresh starts and, with one exception, pure joy. No matter how frustrated viewers may have felt in recent seasons — the show spent too much time on rapist-murder mysteries and whatever the hell Denker was doing — it was impossible to watch this last episode with anything other than a full heart and warm affection. This show will be deeply missed. Did the finale have its flaws? Of course. This wouldn’t be Downton Abbey without plotlines that feel a tad rushed, a certain degree of predictability, and dialogue that reflects the show’s central themes with all the delicacy of a ball-peen hammer. On the rushed side of things: Poor Carson’s Parkinson’s Disease (or the palsy, as he called it) progresses awfully quickly, doesn’t it? And Henry and Tom get their car shop up and running faster than you can say, “Let me discuss it with our pig-man.” (Did you honestly think I’d write my last recap without working in that gem of a phrase? Please.) Related StoriesWhy Downton Abbey Became a Massive Cultural Phenomenon Gareth Neame on Bringing Downton Abbey to an End Downton’s Penelope Wilton on Isobel and Violet Then, the most on-the-nose conversation of all time unfolds between Cora and Robert, when they basically announce that everyone in the family is happy (as if we couldn’t see that for ourselves) and that everything in their lives will be super-hunky-dory-golly-gumdrops for the foreseeable future. “I think the more adaptable we are, the more chance we have of getting through,” Cora tells her husband. In an odd coincidence, that’s also the exact opposite of Donald Trump’s campaign strategy. There aren’t many surprises in this finale, either. I predicted several of the things that actually wound up happening in this preview piece, and I swear on a stack of Septimus Spratt’s advice columns that I didn’t watch the finale until after I made my guesses. Then again, forecasting Downton Abbey developments has never been rocket science (or any other kind of science, for that matter). Furthermore, I’d say that most fans didn’t necessarily want this finale to be unpredictable. We just wanted to see all our lords, ladies, butlers, and maids in happy and fulfilling places in their lives. That’s certainly what we got. Like Robert says, as though he’s speaking for us: “What more can we ask?” Let’s just revel in how thoroughly Downton this episode is. It doubles down on its own Downton-ness, and then multiplies that figure by ten. It is Downton Abbey as told by Stefon. It has everything: upstairs bedrooms invaded by members of the working class (via Daisy, and via Anna’s unexpected labor); members of the downstairs staff being puzzled by modern conveniences (A hairdryer? Whaaaaat?); the Crawleys conversing with other rich, white people who are way more uptight than they are (nice to meet you, Mrs. Pelham); the diagnosis of not one, but two, potentially debilitating diseases; scheming behind other people’s backs, albeit for nice reasons (nice work arranging that dinner for Edith, Mary); cutting away from extremely dramatic conversations so we can’t see them occur (we shall never know what Edith actually said to Mrs. Pelham); the longest, grand-dining-roomiest dining-room table in Downton Abbey history, courtesy of the Bertie/Edith engagement-announcement party; everyone on the staff being rude to Thomas, for old time’s sake; Carson saying sexist shit, also for old time’s sake (“I still find it odd that a woman in her condition is still working as a lady’s maid.” Fine, Carson, then give her decent maternity leave); a lavish wedding; a life-altering haircut; oodles of gorgeous dresses and headbands; and, of course, the Dowager Countess dropping her final drops of knowledge on us. “Don’t be mysterious. It’s the last resort of people with no secrets.” So true, Granny. So true. There were so many scenes and moments that I loved in this finale that I feel compelled to make a list. Let’s jump right into it. Pretty much everything that involves Edith I loved that the two people most responsible for helping the union along were Mary and Robert, who once showed Edith the least amount of respect. At this point, Robert is basically the president of the Lady Edith Crawley — pardon me, that’s Edith Pelham, Marchioness of Hexham — Fan Club. I actually guffawed when he got mad at Cora for implying she might not make the trip to the Pelhams: “This is your second child, who’s hardly had a day’s happiness in the last ten years!” An exaggeration, yes. But all those references to past events — the altar jilting, the time Edith nearly died in a house fire of her own making — were reminders that, well, Robert was only hyperbolizing a little bit. More stuff I loved about Edith’s story line: the way Bertie gets choked up when he tells Edith he’d “done a very bad job” of living without her; Edith’s unimpeachable honesty with her future mother-in-law, who probably would have been much less forgiving, but since they needed to get to the altar in under 90 minutes, whatever; and most of all, the way she finally gets the chance to glide down the stairs, looking as gauzy and beautiful and adored by her father as Mary did the day she married Matthew. It was perfect. “We have a son, John.” The exit and triumphant return of Thomas Barrow Isobel Crawley, savior of Lord Merton One last Patmore freak-out The unbearable hotness of Andy Parker How the Dowager Countess and Henry react to Spratt’s column The return of Shrimpy and Rose and Atticus Mary’s pregnancy (and insistence on not stealing Edith’s thunder) Pretty soon, all the Crawley couples and their kids — by the way, Laura Edmunds caught the bouquet at the wedding, which means she and Tom will be married within a week — will soon spend their Friday nights hanging out at Talbot & Branson Motors, just throwing back brews and doing staged readings of Spratt’s columns. Carson and Mrs. Hughes finally call each other by their first names Yeah, that got to me. So did the singing of “Auld Lang Syne,” which made me wish, more so than any other Christmas episode, that we actually got to see this in December rather than the yuletideless first week of March. But that’s a quibble, and there’s no need for those right now. Downton Abbey ends on a perfectly lovely note, and it gave us a final season that was as engaging as it’s ever been, especially in its final stretch of episodes. The last words of the series were, of course, reserved for the woman who always gets the last word: the Dowager Countess.
For six seasons, Downton Abbey gave us the choice to go back into the past, and we happily chose to make the journey. In the afterglow of this finale, that decision seems well worth it to me. On a more personal note, I just want to say what a joy it’s been to write about this show and discuss it with all of you. I will miss it very much. |