Immersed in British Suds? You’re Not Alone

Viewers of the hit PBS costume drama “Downton Abbey” received a rude shock last weekend when Sybil, youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Grantham, met an untimely demise to eclampsia after delivering a healthy baby girl. There could not have been a dry eye among the legions of “Downton” fans. Sybil was the acknowledged “kindest and sweetest” of the three Crawley sisters; had ministered to the sick and wounded during WWI and identified with working-class struggles, rather too much for her traditionalist father when she married the household’s chauffeur. Much of this British series, the “Upstairs, Downstairs” (or perhaps “Fiddler on the Roof”) of its generation, has revolved around the domestic dramas of the sisters: elegant Mary, eldest and haughtiest, who as a woman is prevented by the laws of primogeniture from inheriting the family estate and, after two seasons, consented to marry her cousin Matthew Crawley, the presumptive heir; Edith, the middle daughter, Mary’s resentful and perpetually misunderstood rival, recently abandoned at the altar by an elderly gentlemen she loved; and the now-late Sybil. Then there are the downstairs comedy-dramas of the small army of household workers, from the crusty but kind-hearted butler, Carson, to the ever-scheming valet, Thomas, and the lady’s maid, O’Brien. Lord Grantham’s former valet, Mr. Bates, sits in a London prison, convicted of murdering his ex-wife, while his faithful current spouse, Anna (Lady Mary’s maid), works to prove his innocence. Presiding over it all is Dame Maggie Smith, aka “the Dowager Countess,” who dispenses one-liners quicker than Don Rickles and whose gaudy costumes and riotous eyes make her resemble an overgrown chicken, delightfully so. Why does a British soap opera attract such an intensely loyal fan base in America – especially one that depicts a world of rigid, though fraying, class distinctions so antithetical to the ideals of American democracy and equality? Much criticism has deservedly been leveled at “Downton” for romanticizing the notions of privilege and servitude, though to be fair it is hardly the first TV show or movie to do so. Part of the answer lies in the words “British soap opera”: British because Americans have never been good at resisting cultural imports from across the pond, especially when they get the PBS imprimatur; and soap opera because, well, what is most good primetime TV drama but glorified soap, from “The Sopranos” to “Mad Men”? But there is one thing the Brits undeniably do better than anyone else: large-ensemble acting. The cast of personalities in “Downton” is endlessly fascinating, even if some are stock. You rarely notice the actor or the acting, so thoroughly does each inhabit the character. And although one can object to the benighted view of social stratification, the issues dealt with are more often recognizable and universal human dilemmas: love, marriage, and family dynamics, of course, but also the struggle to adapt to rapidly changing mores and a world fraught with mortal dangers like all-out wars. Placing “Downton” in the period before and after WWI was a master-stroke by series creator Julian Fellowes. It was arguably a time of social and cultural upheaval more than any other in Western history. When the Dowager Countess crossed the foyer after Sybil’s death, dressed all in black and holding her walking stick like a crutch, on the verge of collapse, it was the kind of wordless image and peerless acting that puts a lump in your throat and lodges it there for several days. Brava, Maggie. Bravo, Downton. For more suds, go to CPTV Sundays at 9 p.m.