Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale (2025)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Fan service drips from the Downton Abbey films, and certainly here for its titular grand finale, from its opening dialogue to the necessary and expected helicopter shot that tracks away from a winding pastoral driveway to the view of that magical facade we've loved seeing for fifteen years now. And, at least in my nicely filled little auditorium, the audible cheers and sighs and laughter helped make the movie for me. It's like the obligatory introductory shot of Hogwarts in each movie, or the slow reveal of John Wayne in one of his flicks. Surrounded as I was by groups of white women several decades older than myself, I felt somehow transported through time and space, back to my high school years of turning on PBS to watch the new drama series that quickly became a favorite between me and my mother. That's the magical feeling that legacy sequels are supposed to provide -- but that's a nut to crack another time. 

It's 1930, and the world is still reeling from the stock market crash, and questions resurface that have long plagued the Crawley family: how much longer can we sustainably stay in our home, with our comfortable lifestyle, and care for our tenant community? It's now about eighteen years after the start of the series (and fifteen years since we started watching it in 2010), and not everyone is still part of the group; Dame Maggie Smith is honored well in this entry, along with a beautiful dedication. But the film works best -- admittedly, perhaps only -- as this metafictional meditation on the cost and necessity of moving on from a place of security and comfort. This is our last look, and indeed, many members of the family have already left or are prepared to leave soon, so the bittersweet warmth of Downton's scenic views and richly detailed interior are never less than enthralling to behold.

The series has always been about this issue, which makes this final entry a consummate work of emotional art. The Crawleys have, endlessly, battled themselves and each other to accept change or resist it. Clearly Julian Fellowes hasn't wanted to (or been able to) let go either, as the trilogy of films has evidenced. And of course we, the viewing public, have been clamoring for more for some time now. But all good things must end, and they end better on our determined terms than by the cruel whims of fate. I applaud Fellowes and director Simon Curtis (My Week with Marilyn, Goodbye Christopher Robin, A New Era) on knowing when to stop and creating a calculatedly brilliant -- indeed, grand -- denouement to this saga. 

The presence of some American characters, notably Paul Giamatti's brother of Cora (Elizabeth McGovern) and his rakish associate (a delicious Alessandro Nivola), make up the real guest stars here, much in the mode of the series. We're also blessed with Simon Russell Beale, Joely Richardson, and Arty Froushan in such intoxicatingly rich roles that I found myself wishing they had all joined earlier. This is ensemble casting as it was in the golden age of Hollywood, and Fellowes nails it (Gosford Park told us long ago where his sweet spot always lay). He knows his characters intimately, and so do we by now, giving them endlessly quotable lines that elicit emotional responses from the audience in every single scene. 

For me, the greatest emotional payoff in this film -- virtually cashing in all of its emotionally taxed profits on our behalf at the same brutal, rapturous time -- lies with what might have been its biggest risk. Thomas Barrow was not a likable character in the series at all. Robert James Collier imbued a thankless dredge of a role with tortured insight and a richly dynamic energy that allowed the character to shift and breathe and stress for years in relative obscurity and only occasional redemption. But Fellowes and Collier, in the trilogy of films, have finally given Barrow a chance to really blossom before our eyes, and this film in particular provides the almost incredible final ascent of his character to nirvana, and I thought we'd never see it. That's all I'll say on that front. If you know, you know. Be blessed.

It's also fair to say, and I think this goes beyond my own bias, that Collier delivers some of the film's most humorous and joyful moments, along with his comrades Dominic West (still playing a role so well that I keep forgetting it's West) and Arty Froushan (as the unshakably charming Noel Coward). There's a scene I at first disliked, when Coward is asked to entertain the Crawleys and shown in full measure as he plays the piano and sings to them; it felt odd and lazy and overly shmaltzy from a writerly perspective until the camera began panning across the faces of his audience. In light of the impending end of all this, we're treated to watching people at a precipice fully engaged with and moved by the only art available to them in a given moment. Of course they can't whip out their phones to record his song, but there's something to Curtis choosing to force us to witness the power of pure spectatorship when we don't let distractions take us away from genuine human interaction. How we have to pay attention to the important things in life, and so few of them are on our phone screens. And none are on social media. It feels apt in a story about choosing what is ultimately best for us and moving on, especially given the past year of news about AI art and the arts being co-opted by rising autocrats. 

I will note, as a middling criticism, that though Fellowes and Curtis in no way skimp on us, there were several other moments in this film I wanted to linger upon. It's not like their budget or studio would have begrudged them an extra minute or two on delicate matters. Nevertheless, it's invigorating to experience Fellowes's extraordinary gift for pacing in ensemble drama, and he is one of the most efficient screenwriters working today when he's in his groove. Like an Aaron Sorkin piece, his characters will pop in and out of a single brief scene and completely change the plot in a matter of minutes. And after the somewhat fanciful rabbit trail of A New Era, here things feel focused and tight, like Fellowes wound it up with a vigor intended for it to outlast us all. 

Downton Abbey: A New Era (2022)

Score: 4.5 / 5

It's as if we never left the fastidiously groomed estate. Downton Abbey had its throngs of adoring fans as a serial show, and these films meant to continue the soapy saga keep bringing them out in droves; in the sold-out evening screening I attended, I was the youngest audience member by at least two decades. I'm grateful for these films, because they feel more self-contained than most of the show's seasons, almost like extended single episodes. The delicious drama imagined by Julian Fellowes continues its upstairs/downstairs conflicts while we can enjoy and imagine such an aristocratic life a hundred years ago across the pond. But this movie is a bit different than the previous film, which itself triumphantly pushed the envelope farther than I thought the show would or could, so let's put our best foot forward here and step right in.

A New Era, indeed. This installment's two main plotlines are as follows: most of the Crawley family goes on a vacation to the south of France, where Granny Violet has suddenly come into possession of a seaside villa; most of the servants remain at the abbey, where a motion picture crew takes up residence to make an early "talkie" film. That's it. Typical of Fellowes, it's brilliant and self-contained and reliant on the tense policing of propriety in dialogue to work, which of course it does. I thought it was a bit annoying at first, as butler and teacher Molesley (Kevin Doyle) gives us some introductory narration, much like a "previously on Downton Abbey" catch-up reel, but then, it has been a while since we've seen these characters.

Thankfully, Granny Violet, the Dowager Countess, is back again after her poignant potential send-off in the previous film, and here she is herself, in fact, the inciting incident. She receives notice that an old acquaintance (very old, as they last saw each other some sixty or seventy years prior) has willed her the deed to his seaside French villa, and she in turn is willing it to her only great-grandchild without property, young Sybbie (daughter of former chauffer and current estate manager Tom Branson and the late Lady Sybil Crawley). The family is atwitter with curiosity about this unexpected gift. What exactly was the nature of their Granny's relationship with the recently deceased marquis? Why has she never spoken of it? Naturally, most of them venture south to learn more, and the film spares no expense in its lavish attention to beauty when they eventually reach the villa. Her son Robert (Hugh Bonneville), the Earl of Grantham, is especially anxious, as he begins to suspect that he may have been the product of his mother's potential tryst with the marquis.

While enjoying the warm weather and sunshine -- all except their tightly-laced butler Carson (Jim Carter -- the family must field skepticism and doubt from the marquis's family, including his widow and son. Robert's wife Cora (Elizabeth McGovern) seems to be battling with her health, and with the ailing Granny back at home, Robert begins to spiral out, fearing losing the two most important women in his life along with his good name (or, rather, his surname, if his fears about Granny's past prove to be founded). It doesn't help that the French family already suspect the same, but things don't really get settled there emotionally. Just legally, as Tom (Allen Leech) and his new wife Lucy (Tuppence Middleton) gratefully accept ownership of the villa on behalf of their daughter.

When they return, they see what their servants have been up to under the watchful eye of Lady Mary Crawley/Talbot (Michelle Dockery). Working as the head of the estate now, Mary has welcomed a film crew in for the month, excited to open the house to the world again and to earn enough money from them that she might finally repair the leaking roof. Unlike the aloof family, the servants are thrilled at the prospect of meeting stars and seeing the magic behind the scenes; Molesley reveals his passions for the art form, and even manages to help the film by rewriting its screenplay. The gracious director (Hugh Dancy) intended to make a silent film, but as talking pictures are the new rage in London, he quickly enlists Mary to help him get a sound technician and flip the film. He also develops feelings for Mary, whose husband is always away. This particular subplot feels especially, cloyingly soapy, but it's Hugh Dancy so that's fine with me.

The film is going along rather bumpily, apart from its director's attempts at romance, due to its stars as well. Its dashing leading man Guy (Dominic West) is more than a little anxious about being in his first talkie, but he finds some solace in befriending butler Thomas Barrow (Robert James-Collier), whose hopeful love life (from the previous film) is suddenly dashed. I love that this film embraces his queerness and gives him, finally, a very happy ending. The talkie's leading lady Myrna (Laura Haddock), however, is a stuck-up high society bitch whose voice is, well, not suited for audio recordings. Think Singin' in the Rain and "I can't stand him." She's a hot mess when Lady Mary is asked to step in and dub her dialogue, but there is a remarkable scene in which the cook Mrs. Patmore (Lesley Nicol) and kitchen maid Daisy (Sophie McShera) sit her down and have a come-to-Jesus moment regarding her Cockney accent. It's the first and only time in the entire franchise I've actually liked Daisy, and she's actually being a good person finally!

A New Era is gorgeously shot and rapturously jubilant. Even when things get a little dark, scary, or sad in this franchise (okay, when things get sad, they get tragic), there is always a lovely light shining through reminding us that this is, ultimately, a love story between all kinds of people and with the place they call home. Director Simon Curtis (My Week with Marilyn, Goodbye Christopher Robin, Woman in Gold), accredited cinematographer Andrew Dunn, and their collaborators do really amazing work in this relatively short film to catch us up, absorb us into the new intrigues, and tie everything up in a beautiful and heart-wrenching bow. If this is the last we see of these beloved characters, they've made sure that it's a nearly perfect sendoff. And that's a monumental achievement.

Goodbye Christopher Robin (2017)

Score: 1.5 / 5

Goodbye Christopher Robin concerns the true story of Winnie the Pooh creator A.A. Milne and his family and is told in three parts. In the first, Milne (Domhnall Gleeson), traumatized by his experiences in World War I, moves his wife Daphne (Margot Robbie) and son out of London into a gorgeous country house where he hopes to continue writing in peace. Their nanny (Kelly Macdonald) joins them and has primary -- indeed, almost exclusive -- contact with you Christopher Robin Milne. In the second, Milne begins to bond with his son by creating the world of Winnie the Pooh. His writing about this childhood fantasy catapults their family to fame, though the boy can hardly bear it. In the third, Christopher Robin grows up and goes off to World War II, but not before condemning his parents for appropriating his childhood.

I wanted to like this movie. The trailers were so sweet and emotional I teared up every time it played. I hoped for a nostalgia-inducing fantasy and a compelling family drama. I admit, I knew nothing about the source material except that it came as a balm after the "war to end all wars." I should have done some research.

This movie is as bleak a family drama and coming-of-age tragedy as they come. Milne and his wife are unspeakably wicked parents. Self-absorbed and disgustingly selfish, they utterly neglect their only child and abuse his nanny. Milne staggers around like a Frankenstein creature, shouting and shaking every time a balloon pops, and wastes time scouring the woods when he should be writing to support his family. Daphne doesn't do much of anything apparently, except hang laundry out to dry and sit around speaking daggers at anyone who approaches. Once, fed up with Milne's inability to write, and instead of helping his trauma or fostering any creativity in him, she abandons the family to go party for weeks in London.

Of course young Christopher Robin grows up attached to his nanny, but his behavior is hardly any better. Are we supposed to excuse him because he's a child? Perhaps, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch such a spoiled, willful child whining his way through a nearly two-hour movie. His greatest crime, though, is when he spies his nanny -- on her night off work, mind -- going out on a date with a gentleman caller. He immediately tells his parents that she's getting married (implying perhaps immoral sexual relations, dereliction of duty, and attempting to leave her position), and so they confront Olive in a heartbreaking scene of absolute cruelty. Olive, easily the only sympathetic character in the entire movie, finally quits, and the next morning the boy runs around calling for her as if he forgot the whole episode was his own damn fault. He's old enough to know far better.

Am I being too harsh? I think not. While the story may in fact be true to real life -- I don't know, and frankly now I don't care -- that does not excuse the filmmaker's portrayal of events. Given this icky domesticity, they persist in making the film look like an idyllic family fantasy deep in a hundred-acre wood. Look at the movie poster I've attached down below. That slightly foggy, sun-drenched look with light, amberish tones is the entire film's aesthetic. They drag out scenes of people crying and skate over the scenes of abuse and neglect. The problem, most simply, is this: The director, editor, composer, and cinematographer want to do one kind of movie, while the screenplay is clearly a different kind. The former set want a touchy-feely sentimental fantasy, while the latter is patently a heavy domestic drama about the failure of one's coming-of-age. In this irreconcilable conflict of artistic visions, the film languors and dies much like the nostalgia it hoped to evoke.

IMDb: Goodbye Christopher Robin