The wonderful thing about watching Downton Abbey on TV was that occasionally the plot would take a turn so British and so old-fashioned that it was hard to figure out what the hell was going on. Cousins got married and it wasn’t weird, men already wearing tuxedos fretted about not being suitably dressed for dinner, and I distinctly remember one episode’s plot hinging on the question of whether a maid was lying about her ability to cook a “restorative broth”—still not sure what that was all about!
Now available in less-convenient movie form, Downton Abbey doubles down on the maddeningly whimsical British stuff, but it lacks the grace and gentle tension of the series. That series, an ensemble drama about a fictional aristocratic family and their live-in servants at a country estate in early 1900s England, was at its best when it juxtaposed the scope and hardships of the “upstairs” and “downstairs” characters. It could even occasionally border on social commentary—but in a mild-mannered, polite way, like a few drops of acidic lemon in a proper cup of tea.