Grand finale? Oh please. Let’s get real; there is no reason why this particular brand of gibbering, wittering, blithering and surreally enjoyable nonsense shouldn’t go on for ever, like Frank Sinatra’s farewell tour or shortbread manufacture in the Scottish Highlands. Both of the previous Downton films had a sentimental last-hurrah message that didn’t preclude another one dropping off the production line. We could make the next film Downton Abbey: The Royal Finale and the one after that Downton Abbey: The Imperial Finale.
The last but one film finished on a funereal drone shot of Downton Abbey at sunset and the one after that was subtitled “A New Era” – but this one, it seems, has taken us back to the very end of the old era, inviting us to swoon loyally at the passing of something special and yet also at the same time doff our caps at the bluebloods’ insouciant gift for survival. There is something entertainingly outrageous in the pure tongue-in-cheek craziness of this new film’s opening sequence; it could almost count as a dadaist dream sequence. I don’t think anything in the TV show or the movies had anything as mickey-takingly bizarre.
