It’s Amiens, 1918 and we open on a shot of a couple of rats surveying a battlefield atop a shattered brick wall. Presumably the papa rat is saying, “One day, son, all this will be yours”, but my hearing sucks at the subsonic squeak range, so.
SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT!!
We cut to William getting Matthew ready for battle. They exit to a trench filled with grimy men. Matthew is the only who got his weekly supply of soap, or at least the only who bothered to wash his face. I hope he heeded Isobel’s warning about always wearing clean underwear as well. Matthew shouts: “We’re nearly there, chaps. Just hold fast. It won’t be long now.” I’m no expert at persuading a bunch of guys to run headlong into machinegun fire, but “it won’t be long now” sounds dispiriting. Me, I’d go the easy route and convince them that they’re demi-gods, and the enemy is the devil incarnate. Then I’d pump them up with methamphetamines and cocaine, and cut ‘em loose.
Matthew blows a whistle, and over they go. You can tell Fellowes is saying: “You think I can’t do battle scenes? You think I’m only good for melodrama? Well, what do you say to THIS?!” Because, damn, is this war scene realistic. I watched the whole thing cowering underneath a tent of blankets, what with bombs exploding, mud flying, ear-shattering noise. This scene is so well done, in fact, that it scares Daisy all the way back in England. She shudders and tells Mrs. Patmore: “Someone just walked over my grave.” Then Mary too gets dizzy, drops her tea cup, and apologizes: “I don’t know. I just suddenly felt terribly cold.” Who needs Ouija boards when you got love? By the way, I am totally into the woowoo stuff, so I’m dead serious. And then we see William lying on top of Matthew in a hole. They’re both unconscious.
O’Brien barges into the Earl’s bedroom and wakes Cora up. There’s an urgent telegram from the war office, which Molesley received. He apologizes for waking up the Crawleys. Everyone’s so shook up, they stand around in their robes. And may I say, if it’s true that wearing pajamas in public is now acceptable, I’d want to run out and buy silk robes like the Crawley ladies wear. The Earl reassures Molesley and adds: “He’s not dead. At least not yet.” Mary flinches. Nice. If you’ve ever wondered why the Earl never became a diplomat, now you know why. Then the problem arises that Isobel apparently skipped town without leaving a forwarding address. I’m no paragon of responsibility, but this seems rather feckless.
Carson finally erupts in his own very elegant robe, and asks: “Pardon, my Lord, but we’re all very anxious to know the news.” Classy yet assertive, huh? I’m going to steal that line next time one of my clients doesn’t pay me on time. “Pardon me, sir, but I’m very anxious to know when payment is forthcoming.” Anyway, the Earl tells the staff that Matthew is injured and Daisy cuts him off: “What about William?” Seriously, what is he, chopped liver? Ooh, sorry, that’s a rather gauche metaphor under the circumstances. Lady Edith volunteers to drive over to William’s house to find out about his condition. Everyone leaves and Mary has a few moments alone with her father: “Whatever you discover, tell me. Don’t hold anything back.” Then she leaves and the Earl is left all alone in his silk robe, looking tres yummy. Bonneville is a bon-bon.
Bates and Anna discuss the news. She then suggests that he accompany her to the Shire, and I’m all, really, Anna is this the right time to play LARF? I can totally picture her as Frodo. Then I realize she said “church” not “shire”. Fellowes replicates war scenes so well, the bombs have damaged my hearing.
Lady Vi and Lady Edith visit Dr. Clarkson to persuade him to let them take care of William at Downton. He remains unmoved. William is not an officer, hence he cannot receive care along with the other officers. Slate called Lady Vi “a magnificent battleship of a woman” which, while an awesomely accurate description, may not be the thing to include in any mash note he sends her for Valentine’s Day. Her rebuttal: “Dr. Clarkson, I am not a Jack revolutionary, nor do I seek to overthrow the civilized world, we just need one bed for a young man from this village!” Which is a wee bit disingenuous, you all know the Vi would love nothing more than to rule the planet in her own inimitable “iron fist in velvet glove” way. It’s a military hospital, and Dr. Clarkson can’t bend the rules. Which comes to show you: Bureaucratic red-tape never goes out of style. It’s a wonder it hasn’t shown up as one of the materials for a Project Runway challenge. Either way, this is not over. Not by a long shot.
Meanwhile, back in the servants’ dining room, O’Brien and Thomas are NOT smoking, which means they’re not stirring up trouble, for once. Somebody should figure out that their evil plots always happen under the influence of nicotine, and hide their cigarettes. O’Brien even mentions briefly that she’s sorry she brought back Mrs. Bates because she’s going to stir up trouble for Cora. Daisy serves some scones – yum, scones –, and they ask her for news. Daisy tells them that Dr. Clarkson won’t allow William to be treated in the village. Mrs. Patmore tsks about it, and Thomas is outraged himself. Well, this is shocking, Thomas sympathizing with someone else’s situation. He is all, What? Or, more exactly: “I’m a working class lad and so is he. And I get fed up seeing how our lot always get shafted.” I foresee Branson and Thomas getting into a pissing contest over who’s the bigger revolutionary. We already know who’s the bigger terrorist.
Mary is going to be Matthew’s own personal nurse, which sounds kinda hawtt. The Earl tells her that Lady Cora has informed Lavinia. About Matthew’s condition, that is. Not about Mary putting on a nurse get-up. At first Mary is all, Lavi—who? It only took a full day for someone to remember Lavinia. But she’s a red-head, and you all know gingers are second-class citizens in England. Mary proposes that they host Lavinia.
Bates and Anna go to church to pray for William and Matthew. He mentions to her that they should have had a church wedding and she says: “I would rather have the right man than the right wedding.” Too bad. I was looking forward to seeing Anna go all bridezilla.
Back in the kitchen, Mrs. Patmore reassures Daisy: “Don’t worry, the old lady will sort something out, now that she’s got the bit between her teeth.” She’s referring to Lady Vi, not just any old mare. Daisy explains that she feels sorry for William, especially since she lied to him about wanting to marry him. She’s ashamed and she breaks into tears. But before Mrs. Patmore can comfort her, the evil Mrs. Bates appears. Mrs. Patmore puts her in her place: “Mrs. Bates, is it?”
“Is this an instrument of communication or torture?” is what Lady Vi wants to know. She’s referring to the telephone. She is on the horn with her nephew Shrimpy so he can pull some strings on William’s behalf. She hangs up before she can ask him to send over an order of popcorn shrimp while he’s at it. There are more pressing matters on her mind.
Evil Mrs. Bates has shown up just in time to spread her brand of cyanide around. She has the nerve to call Anna a floozy. Why does Bates not bat an eyelash at this? Call me old-fashioned, but a guy who doesn’t stick up for you when others insult you is not worth losing your virginity to. She is still going to go to the press with Lady Mary’s story. Bates is shocked: “I gave you the money, and you gave me your word.” Mrs. Bates: “Well, guess what? I was lying!” For a guy who was a former thief, he sure ain’t street smart. Does he not have an old chum from back in the day who can do him a solid and push Vera off a moving train?
Sybil shows up! She is ordering the “motor.” I love that expression. She asks Branson to drive her to the hospital so that she can be with Mary when Matthew shows up. Branson gets a twinkle in his eye: “Is she still in love with him?” I bet Branz has a secret stash of Barbara Cartland novels. Again, he is utterly convinced that Sybil is in love with him and just hiding her feelings. Sybil is all, Whatever, dude. Which does not play like a woman secretly pining for her chauffeur, at least not on my dinky 19″ TV.
The magnificent battleship, a.k.a. the Dowager Countess, and the sneaky patrol craft, a.k.a. Lady Edith, have traveled to the Leeds Infirmary to fetch William. Lady Vi says that William looks fine, which he does, at least to my untrained eye. The doctor explains that he’s suffered too much internal damage to survive. Oh, no! Poor William.
In addition to battling the armada, Lady Vi is a magnificent puppeteer. She’s pulled enough strings to get William transferred to Downton, where he can die surrounded by familiar faces. Wait, did the doctor just say “die”? Don’t mind me. If I get teary, it’s allergies. Really. Before the doctor can explain William’s true condition to his father, Lady Vi interrupts: “You shouldn’t worry too much. We’ll know much more when he’s rested.” No, seriously. It’s allergies. When the doctor gives her a funny look, she explains: “Sometimes, we must let the blow fall by degrees.” She usually just slams away. War must be a lot like percocet. Everyone’s so much nicer.
Back at the village infirmary, Lady Sybil and Lady Mary are making preparations for Matthew. Dr. Clarkson advises Mary to hang back, afraid that she will faint when she sees his condition. He must not have heard about her propensity to dance on graves and to suggest carving people’s chests open. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that she’s secretly Goth. Mary says that he should just regard her as a volunteer. Then they bring Matthew in on a stretcher. There’s a tag on Matthew that Mary reads aloud: “Probably spinal damage.” Sybil, ever the good sister, says that it could mean anything. My Lord, these allergies. They’re tearing me up so that my vision’s all blurred. Can you please pass the tissues?
Daisy sees William being carried into one of the upstairs room at Downton. She’s tearing up. Damn you, hurry up with those tissues.
O’Brien and Thomas discuss the evil Mrs. Bates. O’Brien feels sorry that she ever contacted the witch, because Vera has promised to bring down the House of Grantham. But she won’t stand by while she brings misery and ruin to her lady. I don’t know about you, but I am totally chomping at the bit and biting at the chomp to see a mano a mano between these two. Now, there’s some primetime-worthy TV!
Anna goes to Mary with the news of Mrs. Bates’ evil scheme. Mary decides to reveal everything to Carlisle and ask for his help. But what will you do, Maryleh, if he breaks the engagement AND decides to print the story? Mary shrugs that it’s a risk she’ll have to take. Right on, Mary. You are well on your way to magnificent shiphood yourself.
Lady Edith is going to sit up with Matthew whose wheeze sounds terrible, even if he looks perfect. She promises to look after him. Oh, I am so proud of the Crawley chiquitas, I could plotz. Also, can someone please pass me a second box of tissues?
The next day Mary stops by the hospital to see Matthew just in time for Lavinia to arrive with the Earl. Dr. Crawley appears next to a shocked Lavinia to confirm that Matthew will never walk again, but that he will regain his health, “This is not the end of his life.” Poor Lavinia! She breaks down and sobs. I am t– I mean, I would too. She asks if Mary has a handkerchief since she never seems to have one when she needs one. Just like me. Then Dr. Clarkson and the Earl confer in private, away from the ladies. Matthew will never be able to father children. Oh, no! This is so very sad! I’m wondering if Dr. Crawley ever saw that famous scene in “Born on the Fourth of July” in which Tom Cruise explains how he gets it on in old Tijuana. You know if I bring up Tom Cruise that my denial verges on desperation. Then Lavinia bucks up to finally receive Matthew.
Mrs. Hughes visits Ethel who is now living in a hovel with her baby. It’s the Major’s minor. I’ve been waiting to write that all day. Mrs. Hughes has been bringing her food, and a lot of food it must be because that baby sure has fat cheeks. Oh, Ethel! This is why you can’t rely on chemistry and sexual fireworks, bubbeleh. Mrs. Hughes reveals that the Major will be visiting Downton so he can see his old pals. Ethel is all excited and wants to show up with the child in tow, which sounds like one of the top ten bad ideas she’s ever had. And this is a woman who has nothing but bad ideas. Mrs. Hughes refuses, but after much badgering finally agrees to give him Ethel’s letter.
Mrs. Patmore drags Daisy down to see William. Williams asks Daisy to marry him before he goes. Oh, my God, he knows he’s dying! That was no truck honking by. That was me blowing my nose. Sorry I startled you. Daisy ducks the question. He says he wants to do this for her, so that she’ll have a widow’s pension after he dies. Good God, Daisy, how can you not love this guy? I know. You would’ve been happy with a box of Godivas, but my inner Jewish mother is verklempt that he wants to provide for you.
In London, Mary finally reveals the whole sordid story to Sir Richard. He taunts her a little by making it sound like he won’t marry her after all. Sir Richard has the social graces of Rasputin, if not the bad grooming habits. Thank God for small miracles. He will, however, take care of Mrs. Bates and still marry Mary. You know he’ll just bring it up at all family occasions.
Sure enough, Sir Carlisle meets with Mrs. Bates and buys her story. Smart guy that he is, he also has her sign an agreement so that she can’t go to his competitors with it. If he had a long mustache, he’d be twirling one of the ends right now, in delight, just like the villains in the old silents do when they tie someone up to the railroad tracks. Which reminds me, why not go that route instead? I guess he’d need to install some railroad tracks in his office.
You know who’s having a worst time of it, though? Poor Lavinia. In her talk with Matthew, he reveals that he can never be a real husband to her. At first she doesn’t understand, which is understandable when you live in an era in which you can’t say what you mean without coming across as rude. The only person who can pull this off with aplomb is Lady Vi and it probably took her a lifetime to learn. Lavinia tries to reassure him that she doesn’t care, that she’d be happy to be his wife no matter what. He keeps trying to tell her until she finally gets it. He wants her to be free to have a real life and a real marriage. This is very sad.
Lady Mary finds Lavinia crying in her room and she finds out about the rest of Matthew’s condition.
In the meantime, poor Daisy is still torn about lying to William about her feelings. She hems and she haws even while Mrs. Patmore tries to bulldoze her. And I thought dating in New York was tough. At least the ethical dilemmas are all on the order of whether or not to give a guy his money back if he’s given you too much for cabfare.
While the young Downton characters we’ve come to love are brave and noble, Ethel’s Major is going the feckless f**ker route and washes his hands of the whole tiny detail of having a baby with her. Mrs. Hughes tries to hand him Ethel’s letter and he just blows her off. How is she going to feed herself and the child?
Mrs. Bates finds out that Carlisle tricked her and she erupts into his office, outraged. How dare he trick a trickster? How dare he be dishonest with a cheating liar? Is there no honor in dishonor? Well, she won’t have it, you hear? She won’t. She is going to bring down Bates, one way or another. Now she’s approaching Wicked Witch territory. The only way to get rid of her is to drop a house on her head. On the other hand, go Carlisle! I am thoroughly enjoying your ruthlessness.
In order for Daisy and William to marry, the Dowager Countess has to pull some strings again. The vicar is worried that it’s all a sham wedding, a way for Daisy to game the system. You all know that when Lady Vi gets a notion in her head, she’s like a human pitbull. So naturally she reminds the vicar who’s the boss around town – namely, Lord Grantham– in her own inimitably subtle way: “I hope it’s not vulgar of me to suggest that you find a way to overcome your scruples.”
The wedding finally arrives. Daisy looks so beautiful in that dress and with those flowers in her hair! She looks so dazed, poor thing, like a lamb to the slaughter. Just the way I looked when I got married. Carson gives her his arm to walk her up to the altar. I am totally going to cry, both because I am so moved by Carson’s gesture and because, well, this is the saddest wedding I’ve ever seen on film or, rather TV. Everyone’s gathered around William’s bed, even Thomas. Daisy floats like a zombie toward him. The vicar marries them. I feel so sad for Daisy and so sad for William, and if you happen to slip on something, it’s due to the trail of snot and tears I’ve left in my tracks. Dammit. Why do I keep running out of tissues?
The next day Mary sits next to Matthew’s bed. He asks if she knows why he broke off the engagement and she says she does. Matthew says he couldn’t marry any woman now. “No one sane would want to be with me now. Including me,” he says, and that bout of self-pity makes him nauseous. Mary fetches a pail for him to vomit into just in time. Isobel finally appears from wherever it was she went to “find herself”. Let us hope it wasn’t Esalen. They cross paths. Isobel remarks that she’s become quite a nurse. Mary says it’s nothing. Isobel’s right: “It’s the very opposite of nothing.”
Daisy hasn’t left her new husband’s side since the wedding. Mrs. Patmore has come to relieve her so she can rest, but she won’t, “I won’t leave him now, not while he needs me,” says Daisy. And then William’s Dad tells her that William doesn’t need her now. He doesn’t need anybody. He’s dead.
I am going to make myself a hot toddy. And cry my heart out.
Well done. Oh yes! It was so sad when William died! There are so many touching moments in this series.
I thought this was the best episode in Series 2. Daisy’s haunted look was so touching, and so perfect for what she was feeling. And pulling off a death scene is always very tough. Fellowes lightened his touch and the scene was beautifully wrought, I thought.
I love your recaps. They are all very funny, even this one, even tho the episode was so sad. Poor William. And poor Matthew. Like you, I blubbered through the whole thing. I am so hoping that Lavinia is scared off and flees, Mary tells Matthew she loves him and wants to marry him despite his … er… condition, and they get married and Matthew immediately makes a miraculous recovery. At least of his nether regions. And Sir Richard is totally okay with that scenario. Super likely, right? I could so write for this show. Not.
Thank you, Elizabeth. It was one of the tougher episodes to recap, that’s for sure. I keep hoping that Matthew recovers his manhood. There must be some kind of herbs or something, no?
MarlyK — or just the love of a good woman! Okay, maybe too much to hope for. But I somehow don’t think Fellowes is going to leave our Matthew impotent. Some unlikely scenario will occur to cure him. Or it will just conveniently turn out to have been an incorrect diagnosis! (“I’m not dead; I was just resting!”). Hey, it’s 1918, there were alot of incorrect diagnoses back then. The stickier wicket is I’m sure Fellowes isn’t going to let Mary and Matthew get together easily even if Matthew does somehow recover. That wouldn’t be good TV. Sigh.
Great job on your recap again — I couldn’t believe how much they packed into 52 minutes this week! I wanted to single out the performance of Michelle Dockery, whom I think is incredible as Mary. All of her scenes were great — and what a range of emotions she had to play! — but just watching the progression of her reactions in the scene where Lavinia explains that Matthew told her to forget him because they “can never be lovers” was something to see. Also this was again a standout episode for Maggie Smith. “Shrimpy” provided some welcome comic relief. And I have to wonder how as an actress you play a role like Vera Bates who seems so one-dimensionally evil. Still, she did a terrific job of spewing bile at Carlisle, and those tacky dead animals dangling around her neck — probably bought with her estranged husband’s hush money — spoke volumes.
Oh, and I agree — this was surely one of the saddest weddings ever shown on TV. I’m just wondering why Lord Grantham and Cora weren’t there. Maybe they were at the hospital with Matthew, Mary and Sybil? Speaking of whom, I’m not seeing a whole lot of chemistry between her and Branson. Don’t know if I’m supposed to or not — right now he just strikes me as creepy.
Soooo agree about Michelle Dockery’s acting chops. She’s terrific, especially because she has to convey all these hidden emotions in a very repressed woman. I also completely agree that there is no chemistry between Branson and Sybil. My opinion of Branson goes down with each episode. Why doesn’t Sybil finally just get angry at him? We’ve seen her temper when she fought her father. It was one of my favorite scenes in the entire series.
They did pack a lot into that episode, didn’t they? As much as we complain about Fellowes’ writerly decline this season, doing recaps has shown me just how deftly he weaves all these different storylines. The scenes never feel rushed, despite the fact that A LOT goes on in each episode.
This episode was nearly perfect. Thank you, Julian (and the director! and the editor! and the lighting designer who lit Mrs. Bates from under the hat, all spooky-like). I guess after you’ve hit rock-bottom (the horrible Cora vs. Isobel scene), there’s nowhere to go but up.
The Branson/Sybil storyline has basically got into a rut, where nothing is happening, because everything always happens in series finales. So, every scene they have now is repeating the same conversation. (Seriously Branson, Sybil’s pretty and progressive and all, but this is the war! Trust me, there’ll be plenty more of these girls around soon, and YOU SHOULD BE IN IRELAND YOU LAZY ****!)
And presumably, after B and S get together, they’ll break up again, just to repeat the drama. As shows do — it’s always the beginning or the end, but never the bit in the middle.
Sybil and Branson. Just get them out of the garage!! Please.
He can be annoying in the sunlight… right? A nice garden… a beach. Anywhere. Just get them out of the garage.
Is it just me, or does anyone else see Livinia and/or Mary going all Lady Chatterly’s Lover in the future? Whatever you do, Matthew, don’t hire Sean Bean as your grounds keeper, Matthew! Just don’t do it!
However, it IS nice to see Lady Vi using her powers for good instead of evil; reminds me of how the British aristocrats kept their heads when all the French nobles were losing theirs. (sorry; the pun was there, I had to take the opportunity.) When the vicar says he’s against the deathbed wedding because he hates to see people (like Daisy, I suppose) taking advantage of welfare, Lady Vi smiles sweetly and not so subtly reminds the good vicar that he’s taking advantage of the Earl of Grantham’s welfare, right down to the flowers in his church. As Willy Wonka would say in admiration; “Nicely handled, Violet. She’s a girl who knows where she’s going.”
I hope there’s been a misdiagnosis and that Matthew finds out that he’s been misinformed. THAT would be an interesting scene, especially if it happens at tea time!
Last year, when we first heard Matthew was going to War, I wondered in another forum whether we’d met the gamekeeper. Oh, well–at least Lord Julian steals from the best!
Those wishing to refresh their memory of an influential 20th centurey classic can watch “Lady Chatterly” on Netflix Streaming. Directed by the late Ken Russell, it’s slightly wonky. But one does get to see a great deal of Young Sean Bean…..
I saw the French version that was done a few years ago and it is pretty hot. I will have to check out Russell’s. Maybe later today!
Ooops, one too many “Matthews” in that sentence. Thou shalt not post while falling asleep *sigh*.
Anyway, not Bridget is right, Marly K; don’t miss the Ken Russell “Lady Chatterley”, especially if you’re into British drama. The leads are gorgeous, the English countryside is in full bloom, Russell keeps it all moving and keeps his surrealistic weirdness to a minimum (for him). It’s great for chasing away the winter blues.
and you can never have too much sean bean in your life, only too little
Missdisco; I agree. Unless you’re Matthew and your main squeeze is riding off into the sunset with Sean Bean, that is.
I already started streaming it, BJ. I had to stop at one point because I was so worried they’d get caught. I can get really caught up in things.
and you can never have too much sean bean in your life, only too little
What got to me was how Everyone ganged up on Daisy to marry the room-temperature William; it did get exasperating that she actually showed some spine (good) but coul not show compassion, at the very least.
Maybe this will make her grow up a little bit; when she drops her daffy-looking face, she’s beautiful.
I agree. I felt for Daisy’s dilemma and didn’t like Mrs. Patmore bullying her into accepting William’s proposal two episodes ago. On the other hand, there was no choice but to marry him when he was on his deathbed.
I think Daisy is in shock through most of this episode. I would be, if I were her.
Shirley MacLaine will join season 3
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/showtracker/2012/01/shirley-maclaine-to-join-downton-abbey-cast.html
That will be awesome. Thanks for the news, Bluey!
Too soon chronologically to be cast as Mrs. Simpson. Cora’s mother, perchance?
Oh. I followed the link. She’s to be someone called “Martha Levinson”. Jewish name. This will be interesting.
I thought the same thing. So does this mean that Cora’s M.O.T.?
That’ll be interesting. Of course we had the American Jewish producer in Gosford Park. I can’t recall any rude comments about him, although the English aristocracy of 1918 would be unthinkingly, reflexively anti-Semitic. As they are today.
Funny story: in my 20s I went with my aunt (a magazine writer) to the home of Lord Snowdon (first husband of Princess Margaret) as my aunt was working on a story about his house (or had edited one, I forget). Anyway they parked me in a study with a smoking peat fire and, as always happened with smoky fireplaces, I began to cough and wheeze (asthma). I left the house and sat in our rental car. Snowdon came out to ask me what I was doing — I said I had asthma and the peat fire was killing me so I was better off waiting outside. He apologized and went back inside. My aunt was, er, royally ripped at me for “being so rude” to the Earl. This worship of English gentry only goes so far, you know? Especially someone who described his wife as looking like “a Jewish manicurist,” whatever that is!
During the period from 1870 to the UK entering WWI, a whole lot of titled men married wealthy American women. In the recent PBS documentary “Manor House” it is made clear this concept was often called “Buying a title.” In the case of selling such titles, those impoverished dukes, earls and barons did not discriminate against Jewish American women of wealth.
There has been speculation that Julian Fellows based Cora, The Countess of Grantham, at least in part on Jeanette “Jennie” Jerome. Jennie was one of three daughters of Brooklyn-based American financier Leonard Jerome. Jennie’s sisters also married UK titles.
Lady Jennie Churchill was the mother of Winston Churchill. On 15 April 1874 she married Lord Randolph Churchill, second son of John Winston Spencer-Churchill, the 7th Duke of Marlborough.
By the way, Winston was born only 8 months after his parents were married. Those interested in the extensive love-life of Jennie Churchill might want to do some research. Before 1900 Jennie was often in the English tabloids. I can imagine how those owners are turning in their graves knowning that the secrets they used to sell for money are now available for free on Wikipedia and similar sites.
Really interesting stuff, C Carroll, thanks once again. I caught the very tail-end of that documentary you mentioned. It was on right before Downton Abbey this past Sunday.
Fellows has said he based Cora on the “Buccaneers” — American women from wealthy families who wed British aristocracy during the time period you mention, Carroll. I streamed part one of “The Buccaneers” (a mini-series based on the novel by Edith Wharton) and it gives interesting background but is club-footed compared to DA. Still, it’s got a young Greg Wise in a leading role, and that was fun to see. :>
Just a thought as I watch this episode again. Mary seems to have grown up a lot. She seems much more mature — and smarter — than Cora these days.
You could make the case that this series is really about Mary, and her education into the ways of the world. Almost the first we ever see of her, she’s worrying about having to wear to black for a full term of mourning for the “understood” fiance she didn’t really seem to care for (and Edith did–the original sin between the two that seems to have gone forgotten by viewers.) She’s cold, arrogant, condescending and contemptuous to anyone she considers out of her class.
She’s also stupid. She meets a handsome stranger who looks like poison to any other woman over 14, and ignores a real prospect, Evelyn Napier.
(in retrospect–he seems like a nice young man until that scene he has with Cora, explaining his withdrawal from the Lady Mary Stakes; he reveals himself to be a self-shrewd, knowing young man incapable of making a stupid move, and Cora’s smile shows that Mary’s lost a very good chance. He cements himself as best breaker of bad news in television with his second big scene with Mary. I can see why Fellowes got rid of him–he’d have given Matthew a real run for the money, and he’d have shown up the odd tendency of the second series towards stupidity.)
The less said about Poor Pamuk the better, but you’d think she’d learn from it, and she doesn’t, culminating in her rejection of Matthew just as soon as he looks to be displaced as heir. It doesn’t matter that he’s exactly the same man that she’s learned to like; he’s going to be not-fabulously-rich. We saw his standard of living when he got the news, and he wasn’t living in a hovel. She’d be living at a 2% standard instead of a 1%, and she wouldn’t be Countess, and that’s that. It’s as near as this series has gotten to Henry James, because then she realizes that she’s made a mistake she can’t take back.
And so begins that education.
All good points. Mary has come a long way! I wonder if series 3 will give us more of Cora’s story, since we’ll see Shirley MacLaine as Cora’s mother in series 3. Fellowes has said he got the idea for DA in part after reading a book about the Buccaneers, and of course Cora is based on those women. I took the new maid bursting into the room and giving Lord Grantham a long weepy (and reciprocated) look to be a harbinger of what’s to come, especially as we’ve seen Robert and Cora bickering a bit here and there, and Cora is mightily distracted and otherwise engaged. I see those plants clearly, although I don’t know which direction the writers are taking us. But I agree — to this point, the show centers around Mary’s growing maturity and awareness.
Good points, but I disagree that Mary was stupid in not seeing Pamuk as dangerous, and dismissing Evelyn Napier. I also disagree that any woman over the age of 14 could see that Pamuk is dangerous. You must not know any women ranging from 14 to, oh, 28.
A young woman in that age range, ESPECIALLY if she’s inexperienced is all the more likely to go for someone like Pamuk than for Evelyn. Simply put, someone like Pamuk can make an inexperienced young woman feel very sexy and that can be very enticing, especially when you are still learning about the power of your own sexuality. Evelyn, on the other hand, has about as much personality as a blank wall. Would someone like Mary really have been happy with him? I doubt it.
Yes, older and wiser women and men of all ages can see Pamuk for the snake he truly was. Young men (and sometimes not so young) fall under the spell of a similar trap: a propensity to fall for the sexy psycho bitch. Oh, if I had a dollar for every male friend who fell madly in love with this type! Just like you men scratch your heads at the knack that bad boys have for reeling in women, we women wonder how exactly men can be fooled by crazy bitches. (A perfect example of this is this season’s The Bachelor, if you’ve been following it.)
Each gender can clearly see its own sex, but in youth we all have blind spots when it comes to the opposite sex. Come, come now, Steve, don’t tell me that as a young lad you did not make similarly “stupid” mistakes in love!
It’s not stupidity that makes a woman go for the wrong guy, any more than it’s stupidity what makes a man go for a woman who’s sexy but crazy. After all, the heart is not ruled by the brain, and we’ve all had the experience of dating someone who was perfect on paper, but who for whatever reason we could not truly love. There are plenty of people who have decided to put their brains above their feelings in situations such as this, and the results have been miserable. This isn’t about stupidity. Love is a lot more mysterious than that.
At the beginning of the show, Mary is practical to the point of coldness. The episode with Pamuk, while tragic (although I, of course, found it a treasure trove of dark comedy), is also the first time that we see Mary being influenced by passion. Oh, my God, she is not so cold, she actually can FEEL. She can lose her head! After that horrible incident, she goes in the other direction when Matthew shows up and decides to dismiss what she feels (now she goes back to wanting to be ruled by her head), and makes him wait and loses yet again. She also becomes so much more human and likable. It’s the first time we see that her arrogant self-regard is really a mask.
As maddening as Mary’s behavior might be to us, it also speaks to the frustrations and dilemmas that a lot of us go through in figuring out romantic relationships.
Waiting, hopefully, for the posting for Ep. 5.
Ruby, we regularly post these on Wednesdays.