Downton Abbey
Feb. 14th, 2011 03:13 pmA recent tipple of Gosford Park and Remains of the Day and some very favourable reviews led me to give Downton Abbey a go. I will now sum up the experience in two and a half minutes:
Elaboration, with pictures:
( Just like Nanny used to make. )
But to point this out is to misunderstand the show. These people aren't real because reality doesn't attach to people in Downton Abbey but to itself in an oroborousian freakshow. Its gestures towards complexity are an excuse, a feint. It is pure simulacrum, representation for the sake of representation, a reference only to its own vision of Edwardian England, which equates historical accuracy with a house of things gorgeously arrayed, and assumes both projects ends in themselves. Steven Loyd Wilson notes that the show avoids criticism from a modern perspective and historical apologia, but of course it does: Downton Abbey's Edwardian ara needs no apology: everything was beautiful, hard work was appreciated, physical and emotional wounds were sutured by rich, caring strangers. Ultimately, the whole thing is as comforting, validating, and empty as the South Downs-iest, Garbaldesham Road-iest vision of creamy old England you could ever conjure.
Elaboration, with pictures:
( Just like Nanny used to make. )
But to point this out is to misunderstand the show. These people aren't real because reality doesn't attach to people in Downton Abbey but to itself in an oroborousian freakshow. Its gestures towards complexity are an excuse, a feint. It is pure simulacrum, representation for the sake of representation, a reference only to its own vision of Edwardian England, which equates historical accuracy with a house of things gorgeously arrayed, and assumes both projects ends in themselves. Steven Loyd Wilson notes that the show avoids criticism from a modern perspective and historical apologia, but of course it does: Downton Abbey's Edwardian ara needs no apology: everything was beautiful, hard work was appreciated, physical and emotional wounds were sutured by rich, caring strangers. Ultimately, the whole thing is as comforting, validating, and empty as the South Downs-iest, Garbaldesham Road-iest vision of creamy old England you could ever conjure.
