It is a difficult thing to leave behind one’s biases to write, especially when they are capable of making one want to projectile vomit on the movie screen for the joy of not having to watch it for another minute.
I try to keep an open mind, as most people do, especially when any form of art is involved. To truly absorb the work is to leave behind–or at least closely reflect upon–immediate assumptions and misgivings. So when my dear old friend Henry (who eats, sleeps, and breathes Downton Abbey–he’s seen the entire series at least three times over) asked if I wanted to see this movie with him, I said yes. Though I hadn’t seen the show, I had watched and enjoyed The Great British Bake Off with him, and that was probably the same thing. My love of art and my friendship with him, I had thought, would survive through anything, even the driest British drama.
But golly gee did I underestimate how throat-closingly sawdust-like this movie would be, even despite the gallons of tea the Crawley family guzzled over the course of the film.
Never before have I encountered a story in which so much happens but I feel so little: royalty stay at the house! A family secret is revealed! Two actresses from Harry Potter were there! Yet there was little emotion. The humor was, I’m told, the subtle kind. So subtle, I guess, that it passed me right by. There are few breaks in formal tone, even when there are lines meant to be sarcastic or snide. Absolutely everyone has a stick up their a**.
And I understand that this is a cultural difference between England and the United States, as well as the result of the time period the movie is set in, but these factors do not account for all the ways this movie was work to consume.
It seemed that there were only two or three scenes, with a dozen or two slightly different variations of each. Every two seconds a group of somber-faced Brits are in a circle sipping tea and talking about Troubles In The Family, or Troubles With The Royal Servants. In a word, this movie was…mild. A few more words I could use include: repressed. Unexciting. Bland.
Meanwhile, Henry is leaning forward in his seat, barely blinking so as to assure he experiences the entire film.
But given my loyalty to promoting artists, I did find some positive qualities worth mentioning.
Save for a few symbolically stormy weather scenes, the whole movie had a glow to it that should give the lighting crew much pride. Somehow they put a little life into the drabness of British landscapes and faces.
The costumes were extravagant, glamorously gilded and suited for the characters’ level of sophistication. Costume designer Anna Robbins is a master in designing elaborate, multifaceted vintage styles. Working as the head of costuming for both the movie and tv show, she is tasked with adding the only flavor that exists in Downton Abbey. Despite the daunting nature of period wear, high-class styles, and several thousands of costume changes (how I wish for the sake of their budget that this was hyperbole), Robbins never falters. She thrives under the pressure of making countless extravagant patterns and layers, incorporating a great variety of fabrics and tones.
I hold that Downton Abbey is a somehow worse version of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Perhaps ‘worse’ is not the word, but rather ‘inverse.’ Rather than sensationalizing miniscule disagreements with scripted shouting matches played under suspenseful scores as KUWTK does, DA makes actual, often life-changing events seem unimportant by the sheer lack of excitement the characters seem to feel. Although visually appealing in some aspects, this movie was tiresome. Unless you are already a diehard Downtoner or otherwise enjoy movies that make you feel nothing, I would suggest passing on this one.
