Downton Abbey

In a scene from the new ITV serial Downton Abbey, which began its four-episode run on MASTERPIECE last night, members of the aristocratic Crawley family sit down to tea with a middle-class lawyer and his mother. It’s an awkward situation: all rough edges, and possessed of a fiercely egalitarian spirit, the lawyer has no idea how to conduct himself in front of them or their servants. What makes the situation even more awkward is that due to the recent death of two members of the Crawley family on the Titanic, he has suddenly become the new heir to their estate, Downton Abbey.

The head of Downton Abbey, Sir Robert Crawley, is naturally dismayed at the prospect of a stranger assuming ownership of his estate. But reasonable and stout hearted, he resigns himself to it. He proposes that his new heir begin learning about the operations of the estate as soon as possible. When the lawyer explains that he has no intention of quitting his job to prepare for an event that might happen forty years from now, bewilderment registers on the face of each family member, who obviously can’t wrap their minds around the concept of choosing to work. To placate Sir Robert, the lawyer promises to learn about the estate on his evenings off. “And there’s always the weekend,” he says amiably—at which point, Robert’s mother, the Dowager Countess Violet, speaks her first line in the scene. Played by Maggie Smith (who can’t be beaten as a dowager anything), the countess asks, “And what’s a weekend?”

Written for television by Julian Fellowes, the award-winning screenwriter of Gosford Park, Downton Abbey depicts the clash between a rising middle-class and an old aristocracy, as well as the restlessness of a dying breed of British servants, on the eve of World War I. It clearly borrows much of its material from Gosford Park and Upstairs, Downstairs. But who cares? Indeed, part of the pleasure of watching this series is the cozy sense of familiarity it evokes.

Another pleasure is the strength of the characters. My favorite right now is Mr. Bates, a wounded veteran of the Boer War where he served as batman (whatever that is) to Sir Robert. Walking with a limp and a cane, Bates arrives at the estate as the new valet—and instantly causes a stir among the servants, some of whom resent such a privileged position being given to a “cripple.” Mr. Bates is dignified, quiet, and stoic. He’s also kind of sexy. Indeed, judging from all reports, he was England’s #1 UCO (Unlikely Crush Object) last year.

I also love the twists and turns in characterization. At first, Sir Robert and his three daughters seem modeled on King Lear and his daughters. I began the show thinking that the only likeable daughter, like Cordelia, was Edith Crawley. Nope. She’s a pill and a half. And Mary, who first comes across as a coldhearted bitch (sorry, but the word fits), now turns out to be rather cool. But that’s the wonderful thing so far about Downton Abbey’s characters—they’re all a little mysterious, slippery, elusive.

And, of course, a British costume drama this good must have great real estate. Downton Abbey was filmed at Highclere Castle, a country house designed by Capability Brown in high Elizabethan style. High indeed. Every room is a feast for the eyes. In one scene, Bates remarks to the footman, Thomas, about the “strange” nature of being a servant. “What do you mean?” asks Thomas. “Well, here we are with a pirate’s horde without our reach, but none of it’s ours, is it?”

The same might be said about the viewers of costume dramas such as Downton Abbey. But you’ll never hear me complaining. . .