Remakes, reboots, sequels and prequels in all glory, but when it comes to proof of an industry's inability to come up with new ideas, and the desire to cash in on preserved porridge, it's still nothing that beats the long-film version of a kiosk-devastating series.
It can only get worse, it is a development in the wrong direction. The first and biggest advantage of the TV series in front of the film is its room for depth, where characters and intrigues can cook over a whole season, but here you go the other way.
You wouldn't have done that.
It is still Julian Fellowes, court supplier of British upper-class drama, waving his magical script, but unfortunately it did not.
A few years have passed and everyone is back on the estate again, even butler Carson, who is retired but now, via a crushed manuscript watch, is back in service.
And why then, then? Well, because now the King couple will be visiting, and then you want their best players on the pitch. It will be dinner and overnight, mind you, which is of course a great honor. The whole village is in its royal rags and yes - even the most well-tempered Earl of Grantham looks a little hot under the strengthened collar.
The best of the series was always the chilly and constantly controlled daughter Mary. Cool as an autumn evening, but bubbling there during, a role that was nicely chastised by Michelle Dockery.
And so the said butler Carson, who with his tight supervision gets the stiff-upper-lip ideal to feel a little sassy. Truly a wonderfully stellar conservative figure, played by Jim Carter who even got to join Skavlan.
And do you remember that Mr. Bates who injured his leg in the war, he who had a fair ex-wife and was so hard-working that you got knocked out as soon as that storyline was in focus? "Oh no! Not that yes Bates again, I go and put on the coffee ”.
Yes, you see, I saw every episode of this reactionary series; bought in some shady way this whole lying image of the thoughtful upper class. Yes, but here all the crushes are good, deep inside. It is basically on the same page as the servants who are hurting the castle's basement. Or no! This is not a real pain. Not really. It's not Ken Loach we're talking about… The big staff are fundamentally fond of their bosses, not just as long as they get their likely paycheck. Like faithful dogs they watch over their flashy houses, never asking for more than what is thrown at them.
In short, a system-preserving fiction that should be a red blank for the undersigned. It was nonsense, after all. But at the same time ... cozy. Like a sconce in front of a fireplace. Julian Fellowes had created an obsessed nuclear family that is conservative on the surface, but has given them the right modern thoughts underneath, making them more compatible with our time.
At the same time the engine of the series is the old stock conservative Countess Violet, made by lovely Maggie Smith. To my great surprise, I sat just like her and frowned at all the novelties that risked diminishing the power of the nobility. “No, because hey, don't let the Bolsheviks in the room! You never know how it can end! "
Or, we know that, soon the nobility will be forced out of their luxurious reserves. Which was also part of the allure: Downton Abbey as a blue-blooded but harmless Skansen.
The long-film version is entirely aimed at the already believers - and inmates. If you do not know the time, experiences and motives of the many characters, this is a completely hopeless thing, a Christmas drama without drama. Sure, there are some petty conflicts, but they are resolved in just a few minutes, making them completely ineffective.
It's like we should be happy just to hang out with the gang at Downton again.
The basic conflict is so lukewarm that you start looking at the clock already in the first act, that is when you can imagine that what will be at stake here is ... nothing: Vojne, the king and the queen come to visit! What are we going to eat? Not to mention: What should we wear !? How will the canapés taste?
As an old Downton fan, it's awful to say that, but Frankly my dear, I dont give a damn ...