Professor Popinjay's Compendium of Perspicacity

A Non-review by Professor Popinjay

(2025)

MILD SPOILERS!

Don’t worry! I’m not here to wax philosophical about this big-budget well-to-do soap opera. I watched the first episode of season one and that was just a couple months ago. The only reason I was curious at all was because I thought Maggie Smith was playing Professor McGonagle in it. I noticed Maggie Smith was listed in the cast for the movie. Perhaps the series finale would be about her miraculous return and reclaiming of Downton Abbey! This should be exciting indeed!

I’m kidding. I won’t try to convince you I wasn’t into this. Granted I’m not sure I will ever take the time to sit down and watch the whole series. But I was genuinely excited to escort the Mrs. to the picture show for the finale; mainly because I couldn’t wait to write about it, whatever the film should bring. Plus, I kind of wanted to meet the audience who would attend such a film. Preface to say, I was not disappointed.

I was going to wear my signature fur-collared overcoat and opera hat for the occasion but it was kind of hot still for the time of year and I didn’t want to end up smelling like a fusty forgotten man.

Upon entering the theater we found our seats occupied by a ladies’ behemoth carpet bag and other such effects.

“Pardon me, dear madam”, I addressed the elderly lady sitting next to the inhibiting items. “Would you be so kind as to remove your crap from this seat that it might better accommodate my arse? There’s a good lass. Much obliged.”

I liked her. She was a sport.

The rest of the audience was much the same. At 43 years of age I was certain to be the youngest person present. Lots of darling old husbands dutifully accompanying their darling old wives to see their stories. Nice chaps, the lot of them. And there I was among them. I think I’m doing rather well, thank you. Now, if I can just keep from unleashing this monstrous fart I’ve been brewing since before the trailers.

The opening money shot was quite impressive. Richmond Theater in West London recreated from a grainy 1929 photograph with its recently installed electric lights was magnificent. I could’ve watched a lot more of a film in this setting but the dimly illuminated, oft rained-on streets of London is not where the majority of this film takes place.

I found the ample humor in the film very enjoyable but either the audience members were afraid of the impropriety of laughter or my wife and I were the only ones aware of the absurdity of the situations and dialogue.

At one point Paul Giamatti as Harold Levinson (Countess of Grantham Cora Crawley’s brother if you care to know) requests of the new head butler an Agatha Christie murder mystery in the hopes it might help him stay awake better than Charles Dicken’s The Pickwick Papers (1836). I’m sure Harold was expecting the Dickens novel to be an enchanting fast-paced magical tale like most of his works, not the sprawling leisurely-paced overly verbose tome that it is. My God! Am I Charles Dickens!?!

The butler’s answer to Mr. Levinson as to where they might keep an Agatha Christie murder mystery was “Perhaps in the nursery, sir.”

Blimey! We was rollin’ in the aisles, the Missus and I was! But peek over at the majority and a regular staunch bunch sat looking cross as ever.

“Hmmm, yes, I suppose some degree of levity is necessary to keep the upper-middle-lower class groundlings happy.” I assume was going through their head just before asking, “Ranuncula, darling, would you be so kind as to apply a bit more toffee to my nose? There’s a good lass. Much obliged.”

Meh, more’s the pitty, I say. Iffin one as can’t laugh at a film like this, one might as well not laugh at all. I assume such as these keep their murder mysteries in their own nurseries and therefore couldn’t see the funny in it.

But it WAS hilariously absurd by modern standards. I think that’s the whole point of it all. When the family is forced to sell their London Vacation home and replace it with a mere flat, the way Lord Grantham sneers at the place at first, you’d think they just replaced their auxiliary mansion with a moldy Winnebago.

Oh, you poor, poor people! You’ll have to trade your vacation mansion for a luxurious vacation flat in London Town? That’s rough in’ it for you, eh?

I liked Lord Grantham’s line, “What if I should want to go up to bed?” To which his daughter replies “You’ll have to go across.” That’s comedy, folks!

The main crux of the series finale deals with Mary’s (Lord Grantham’s daughter) inheritance and management of the estate and the controversy of her divorce. Mind you it was not the details of her divorce that lead to scandal but the very fact she WAS divorced, whatever the details. When this news was leaked, Mary found herself suddenly ostrichized (pretty sure that’s the word for it) from “polite” society. Despite “polite” society consisting solely of arrogant snobs, Mary feels the alienation of this excommunication quite deftly.

Suddenly I found myself stricken with a shock of horror amid the other theater patrons! I had forgotten to inform the congregation that I was myself divorced and if it should be an imposition on any of them, I would graciously take my leave so as to not subject them to scandal! Perhaps, they wouldn’t notice that the ring upon my nuptial finger is slightly different from the one I wore prior! If only I had worn my fur-collared overcoat I might have a place to hide the offending hand I gave willingly into secondary matrimony! Oh, the shame!

I talked to them later about it though and they were all pretty chill.

I actually appreciated the movie greatly and found myself thinking about it long after I saw it. Even though it’s set in the 1920’s, it’s an interesting commentary on cancel-culture and forgiveness. I don’t think certain behaviors or statements should be tolerated but if someone is genuinely apologetic and willing to make amends wouldn’t it behoove us to be forgiving? I think of celebrities who have had a brush with the law but have paid their debt to society and went on to do some really cool things… or things, at least.

Mary was in a terrible marriage which could hardly be considered her fault. There’s a myriad of reasons it would be better for two to separate. Often times staying with someone is flat-out dangerous. To chide a person who removes themselves from a dangerous situation would be SHOULD BE absurd. Most of the people who knew Mary well eventually realized how absurd the notion of ostracization was, especially considering what a nice and benevolent person she was. Only a few fuddy-duddies stayed stuck in their ways and it was obvious society was leaving those jerks behind. Perhaps some compassion sent to the jerks might even soften them.

We don’t need more hateful arrogant gate-keeping elitists hypocritically pointing fingers at everyone. We need compassionate, loving, generous people who understand how important it is to be accepting and helpful to others. This was my take away from the Downton Abbey Series Finale. Bravo!

Sadly, there was no after credits scene with a CGI Dowager Countess punching the vault doors out of an ornate mausoleum and cackling wildly as she flies off into a lightening-stricken night sky. I suppose it’s best we let Maggie rest in peace… at least until we should need her for more important films like Hook 2: Wendy’s Revenge.