Downton Abbey recap: series five, episode seven – take anyone but Isis!
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Version 0 of 1. I know a lot happened in this episode but really it was all about one thing: Isis has cancer. No! Not Isis! Take anyone. Take Cousin Violet. Take Daisy. To hell with it, take Molesley (still my favourite). But do not take Isis. As suspected, her canine voyeurism has poisoned her from within and now the only thing standing between her and the afterlife is a cashmere travel blanket. I am weeping far too much to point out the anachronisms – both behavioural and verbal – that piled up during this outing. OK, I’m not. Would the Earl of Grantham use the word “cancer” – and not a euphemism – in front of a large gathering of people? I wasn’t convinced either that Cora would be quite so relaxed about welcoming the illegitimate impostor child into the Downton nursery. I know she’s a a kerrazy American and all that but this was a stretch. (As the Earl of Grantham put it: “If you ask me, it’s absolutely crackers.”) And don’t get me started on Mary saying to Granny, as if this were The Jerry Springer Show: “You have to be bigger than that.” It feels like it’s going to be tears all the way in next week’s season finale. My money’s on a feature-length funeral for Isis topped off with a quickie wedding for Cousin Isobel, with Rose’s more sumptuous wedding left over until the Christmas episode, because there will be lots of disapproving-of-Jews going on from her mother before it can go ahead. I was surprisingly fond of Lord Merton’s brilliantly bigoted and unctuous sons, who were able to say what we have all been thinking about the Crawley family for five series: “Everyone has distant cousins who are fairly odd.” What a wonderful dinner scene this was, with the More Horrible Lord Merton Son behaving as if he were being served rotten fish. When Branson sprang to his feet – “Why don’t you just get out, you bastard?” – how we cheered. Big kudos to the grandes dames of Downton this week. Penelope Wilton’s sensitive and layered portrayal of Cousin Isobel – who could very easily be an idiotic and annoying character – is a joy to behold. And her face feigning encouragement and enthusiasm for Rose in the final scene when her heart had been broken by the Horrible Lord Merton Sons ... Well, it was a Rada masterclass. Likewise the scene between Mary and Granny, where Dame Maggie’s quiet despair was beautifully done. These are all tiny moments of genius in a maelstrom of madness, however. How come Mr Bates is suddenly all relaxed about the Ill-Defined Contraceptive Device? Oh, Anna has told him it’s Mary’s. Really? Why hide it from him in the first place then? “Is our life over-complicated?” Yes. But only because you keep killing people, Mr Bates. Only joking. Or maybe not. We’ll find out next week. Lest we forget: the Mini-Den-Under-a-Bus storyline is unresolved. Favourite moments? “Time to call it a day, ladies.” The Cockerney maid in Edith’s favourite tea house is surely related to the Yorkshire Frenchman hairdresser. Straight out of central casting. Love it. Also love Rose and Atticus. Simple but adorable. But this – a line built to match Mary’s “I’m going upstairs to take my hat off” – was the best bit, from Mr Bates: “I have to clean some shoes.” Last thought: I’m not sure what year it is any more but it can’t be a good idea for the Ill-Defined Suitor to go to Poland, can it? And one final guess: we haven’t seen the last of the Russian Silver Fox. Random subplot alert Signature Uncle Julian resolution of the Marigold storyline. At one remove from Southfork, here we have the Downton Abbey equivalent of “And then in the shower, we realised it was all a dream ...” It turns out that the baby could have lived as a secret foster child in the nursery all along. Talk about leading us up the garden path. I had a lot of questions, meanwhile. How has the newspaper suddenly turned into a magazine? Who was doing Edith’s hair and wardrobe while she was in London? (Because Edith has never looked more gorgeous than in this episode. So much so that her reputation of being unmarriageable is under threat.) And – this really is a mistake, surely – Mr Drewe has a telephone? What? Surprise character development Having abandoned her ambitions to run Microsoft, Daisy has become Russell Brand. Or at least she is advocating a revolution about as well thought-out as his. I love Daisy but this plot has been clumpy and painful. Although it was worth it to see Mr Mason doing his impression of Lenin. And for Molesley and Baxter to have a trip out to the country together. More Mr Mason! More Molesley! Next episode: Daisy has a dream in which she meets Joan of Arc, Hillary Clinton and Arianna Huffington. You can do this thing, Daisy. You go, girl. Golden eyebrow of the week award A slam dunk for Mr Carson. Pure, unadulterated momentary eyebrow action – which involved unique sole eyebrow use while freezing all other parts of the face – as Mr Carson indicated to Mr Molesley to open the door as a sign to the Most Horrible Lord Merton Son to leave. Possibly the best eyebrow movement ever in the history of televised drama or, indeed, of the human race. Excuse me, could you just repeat that awkward line of dialogue? • “Are you going to tell Robert?” “He’s a man. They don’t have rights.” Dame Maggie in Beyoncé mode. • “Why the song and dance? Edith has just gone away, that’s all.” Lady Mary in full bitch mode. (Does she know any other?) • “My dear. A lack of compassion can be as vulgar as an excess of tears.” Dame Maggie tries to break Lady Mary out of bitch mode. (Waste of time.) • “She takes after the dachshund. She is quite untrainable.” We love Spratt. But where is Denker? Why bother to hire Sue Johnston if you’re not going to let her actually be in it? • “I suppose we’re all beginning to think of a different future whether we want to or not.” So true, Mrs Hughes. So true. If only that future did not involve a series six. But I feel it coming, I feel it coming ... Next week Rose’s awful mother is back. Daisy wants a job in London. And was that a frisson of flirtation I glimpsed between Mary and Branson? That would solve a lot of shenanigans. |