(Spoiler alert: Don’t read if it’s possible that you don’t actually know what happened on last night’s Downton Abbey episode and would like to be surprised. If that is the case, you might want to sequester yourself in your basement with some DVDs pretty darn quick, cuz there’s just no flippin’ way you’re going to get through the next few days and not find out that [gulp] died.)
Dear Mr. Fellowes:
(Do they use the Pre- “Mr.” in England? Or is something like Guv’ner? anyway. . .)
Yes, he’s gorgeous.
Yes, he and Mary had a special spark, just the right chemistry.
And then there were his eyes, and his accent, and the fact that it was completely believable that he loved Mary “madly,” despite the fact that she was sharp-tongued and cynical. I was actually coming to like her a little bit myself, seen through his eyes.
But was this really the only way? I understand that the actor wanted out of his contract, but he is, in fact, playing a role, and I find it hard to believe that he’s the only actor in the world interested in and/or capable of, playing this particular part.
It seems to me that you just didn’t want to try that hard. You know, aud-i-tions and all that. (Sigh.)
Yes, we might have flinched for a few seconds at the beginning of the first episode of Season 4 — Who? What? That’s supposed to be Matthew? But we would have gotten over it, much more quickly than we can get over the fact that you have taken the difficulties of childbirth in the early 20th century to extend to the fathers. (To quote one of my favorite bloggers: “Is it not possible for a baby to be born on Downton Abbey and not lose one of its parents?”)
Really. You must do better. There’s something like 4,517,895 hours of absolute crap on television right now each and every week, and we don’t have that much to look forward to. Please don’t push us so far that we resort to watching reruns of West Wing for the third time around.
Your less-a-fan-than-we-used-to-be fans.