If you were expecting Downton to abandon its norm, and adhere to historical accuracy you’d have been left sorely disappointed. Fortunately for the 99% of viewers who don’t give a monkeys, Julian Fellowes soapy period behemoth delivered a resoundingly pleasing, if slightly dull opener to its Fourth Series. Things opened over a particularly bleak, misty shot of Downton in the grips of winter as Miss O’Brien buggers off for a job serving in the classically exotic imperial location, India.
The servants mutter a bit, but that’s all quickly forgotten because we get to catch up with Lady Mary. Six months after Matthew’s death she still has a face like a resoundingly smacked arse and is moping around in black. This has thrown up a problem for the cash-strapped Cralweys (relatively speaking, they do live in a ruddy great mansion after all…), in the form of obligatory death duties that need paying thanks to David Lloyd George’s scheming ways. At one point, marvellously, Lady Violet, played by the indomitable Maggie Smith, quips she fears he might actually be German masquerading as Welsh. Perish the thought.
There’s also concern about how to manage the estate, since with Matthew’s death, sweet baby George owns his share. Mary, as his Guardian could take over, but Robert, the man who we shouldn’t forgot lost all the money by investing in Canadian railways (rookie 1920s error right there), thinks he’s much better qualified. As with all things in Downton, it falls to Lady Violet to take command. Short of slapping Mary round the face, which we all want to do after seeing her miserable mug for an hour, Violet gives it to her. She basically says stop being a miserable cow, and it works. She has a bit of a tame go at challenging Papa Crawley, before returning to form, sweeping into a tenants dinner in purple to much applause. Good show, although likely to ruffle Robert’s feathers in the coming weeks.
In other news Edith snogs a married man (for the second time…) and is enamoured that he’d take German citizenship, and in so doing, join ‘the most hated race on earth’, just to get a divorce and be with her. Evidently such a thing was touching in the 1920s. There’s also a hunt for a new ladies maid, but in a colossal cock-up, they end up re-hiring decidedly evil-looking man-eating maid Edna Braithwaite, previously fired for throwing herself (well her mouth, anyway) on Tom. For the servants, a cliché and boring Valentine’s Day letter-sending subplot is affirmatively overshadowed by the arrival of an electric mixer and a plea from Mr Carson’s past from a workhouse, for help.
Fortunately the servants take a backseat storyline wise for the opener and it’s a prudent choice. Their storylines have never been as compelling as the Crawleys themselves, and indeed unlike failed BBC-challenger Upstairs, Downstairs, Downton Abbey’s strength has been in the emphasis on the life of the Crawley family, rather than that of their servants. Unfortunately the writers aren’t confident enough to abandon the servants to a secondary role altogether, and thus crowbar in the workhouse bit, but really Lady Mary’s storyline dominates this week. Its deserving though and Michelle Dockery carries the piece with restraint and talent, giving Downton an emotive punch that’s hard to deliver in a show that’s all too easy to guffaw at most of the time. As always though, ever since its first episode, the star-turn and indeed centre of the show remains the Dowager Countess, played ably, as always by the truly fabulous Maggie Smith.