Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale

It wasn't until the very last movie that I suddenly realized that Daisy was the character who grew the most in the series (Edith was second). At first glance, I just thought of her as a small character with a very unique appearance (she had a kind of vivid/lively beauty), but the more I watched, the more I felt that the character's transformation was extremely rich:

Her relationship with William perfectly embodies the confusion and uncertainty of a young girl. William likes her, and she likes William too, but is it love? Should she marry him? She thinks a lot about it. Others tell her it's love, but she feels it's just liking. Saying she loves him would be deception, and deception can't be brought into marriage; it would be extremely hurtful to the other person. This almost religious resistance to deception is very suitable for a naive teenage girl. As we grow older, many emotions become blurred. When we were young, liking was liking, love was love, hate was hate, and dislike was dislike—all very pure. Her relationship with William is the purest in Downton Abbey. I'm grateful the screenwriter spent so much time developing this relationship, making me think for a long time. The show never tells the audience whether Daisy loved William or not, or whether she had an answer herself. Perhaps it doesn't matter anymore, because Daisy will grow up. When she grows up, two people who love, like, or don't dislike each other can become husband and wife.

Later, Daisy, unwilling to remain a cook, yearned to explore the world, study hard, and embrace new things. She resembled a young person full of ambition, painfully struggling between reality and ideals, even rebellious at all costs. This was an awakening of self-awareness, a rebellion against her parents and the old society. She soared to the sky, almost crashing to the ground, but thankfully, the servants in the basement were always there, waiting for her to fall. In the end, Daisy didn't go out to achieve great things, but happily took over the head chef's job. On her last night, Patmore asked her, "Don't you want to go out and explore the world?" Daisy replied, "I feel that my time in the basement has always been happy and meaningful; I haven't wasted my life." At this point, Daisy was no longer a reckless youth, and I believe she will definitely explore the world in the new era. Time has matured her; rather than compromising with life, she has found a way to reconcile with the world and herself. Only with inner peace can one journey to farther places.

At the end of the series, the writers added my favorite scene for Daisy: her marriage to Andy. Although they still loved each other, Daisy hesitated as their wedding approached. She seemed unsure if she could spend her life with Andy, as if she didn't love him enough, or that something was missing. Then, after Andy did something drastic for her, she had a sudden realization: she needed a lover who would go through fire and water for her, who would stand against the world for her. This scene moved me deeply. I suddenly understood that Daisy, despite her life experiences, remained adorable and pure. She found in Andy what William lacked. For her at that age, love was about passion and finding the right person, not William's humility and quiet devotion. At this point, she knew what she wanted instead of constantly asking others.

The screenwriter vividly portrays Daisy's ten years of youth, a microcosm of everyone's adolescence—innocence, confusion, conflict, naivety, and gradual maturation and rationality. Even more remarkable is that the grown-up Daisy retains a pure yearning for love; how we envy such an adult!

When Lord Grantham decided to sell the estate, the sunlight behind the Duke carried a hint of imperial fading. It's been a long goodbye.

The story of Downton Abbey feels like a dream; it initially made me mistakenly believe everyone spoke like Mary and Matthew, elegant and self-disciplined. I went to the UK with some unrealistic fantasies, then let the wheels of fate turn, from Jiangnan to England, from Shanghai to Hong Kong.

The summer I bid farewell to Britain, I made a special trip to Highclere Castle, the filming location, to see it for myself. It was a very windy day; the car wound its way up the hill for a long time, passing a vast meadow before I finally saw the castle, the one I'd dreamed of, with its ringing bells.

At that moment, happiness felt so close; I skipped and jumped for joy the whole way, everything I saw, felt, and thought was divinely blessed, as if everything was my due. Years later, after experiencing hardship firsthand, I saw that the cold indifference that pervades the world is the norm.

Of course, I never imagined back then that I would later go to places intricately connected to it, stubbornly going against the grain of the world, and even have the chance to wear equestrian attire and dance in dressage… On a bustling street, when my gaze fell upon the Downton Abbey poster, a long-lost warmth was awakened in my heart, and this grand farewell became the most important thing for the entire weekend. It's hard to measure how much of that heavy emotion was due to the movie, and how much was a tribute to that once carefree little girl.

The boy beside me at the time had long since disappeared into the crowd, and I also missed the times when I and my roommates would laugh and joke, giving each other the names of our characters in the movie. And off-screen, the female lead experienced life and death, then got married and had children, while the male lead struggled in Hollywood alone… The Friends sofa had only been sitting there for ten years, but this Hamptonshire story had been written for fifteen years.

I remember my literature teacher emphasizing that drama and film should create well-rounded, three-dimensional characters. In Julian's writing, the power dynamic between the two generations is fluid, and there is mutual respect between those living upstairs and downstairs.

Having experienced war and reform, the aristocracy understands absolute privilege and relative fairness. Even when faced with scandals in the newspapers and the threat of prejudice, they do not lose their pride amidst the fearsome gossip, as if they are walking embodiments of "keep calm and carry on." Watching familiar faces appear one by one on the screen, and then gradually fade away as the theater lights come on...

the music hasn't ended, but the audience has already left, leaving behind a knowing smile and tears welling up.

I still remember the amazement I felt when I first watched Downton Abbey in early 2010. The opening scene was a Darcy-esque manor, where newspaper ink had to be ironed off. The sinking of the Titanic directly relates to the lack of an heir in this aristocratic family, and it also serves as the catalyst for Pride and Prejudice—the aristocratic estate, with only daughters, is to be inherited by a completely unrelated outsider, which leads to the love story of the three sisters.

The division between upstairs and downstairs is an angle that previous works of art have never touched upon. This angle was previously only seen in Gosford Park, while Downton Abbey showed us an entire season of it. Jane Austen's pastoral idyll intertwined with the 20th century evokes a nostalgia for the last old aristocracy of England on the eve of World War I, when the light of the Old World had not yet been extinguished, and the definition of dignity was completely different from today.

The eldest daughter's outrageous behavior, the second daughter's perennial subservience, the charismatic wealthy old man, the kind mother, and the stubborn yet enlightened master—each character is vividly portrayed. The downstairs housekeeper, the female housekeeper, the lesbian servant, the maid and the cook, especially their subtle master-servant relationship that transcends master and servant, are key threads connecting the entire drama. Not to mention the gripping love story between the eldest cousin and the eldest daughter, from mutual dislike to the realization that they are each other's soulmates—a story that amazes viewers, who haven't seen such a traditional and perfect love story in many years.

But the show was still ruined, ruined by the production system of modern television dramas. It's unclear how many seasons the writers originally planned, but most American and British dramas don't know if there will be a sequel when they write the first season, because the next season's release depends entirely on the first. If it were a show like *Friends* with its narrative structure, it wouldn't be so bad, since the stories are independent, and viewers could easily start from the second season. But the writers of *Downton Abbey* probably only envisioned the eldest daughter and her cousin getting together in the first season, and didn't think much beyond that, because the story ends there—the prince and princess, Elizabeth and Darcy's happy after—that's a cinematic ending, the ending of *Pride and Prejudice*. But with television dramas being filmed season after season, the plot after the third season felt like a poor sequel.

Because of the lack of a long-term plan, the character personalities established in the first season couldn't be consistent. The characters in the first season had distinct personalities, which created dramatic conflict; there were no flawless good guys, nor absolute villains. The eldest daughter was proud and arrogant, yet courageous enough to break boundaries; the old lady was always finding fault, but possessed a wealth of life wisdom; the eldest cousin's mother was talkative, but a kind-hearted person; even the seemingly villainous servant Baron had his own hardships. The competition, jealousy, and familial bonds between the sisters, and the power struggles among the servants, were the source of the show's tension. But as the story expanded, the plot twists disappeared, and everyone was portrayed as a good person. By the time of the final movie version, it was utterly devoid of conflict and could be described as boring.

Due to the conflict between the writers' short-term and long-term plans, many actors left. The actor playing Matthew Crawley was only intended for the first few seasons, with other filming commitments. However, audience enthusiasm was high, and the production company wouldn't abandon the project. As a result, the show had to continue, but the actors were gone. Forced to resort to the most foolish way to say goodbye to the actors—Matthew Crawley and Matthew Goode were both killed off. It's like watching Friends and Rachel dying halfway through—how could the show continue? They had to find replacements. But this completely disrupted the writers' original vision, leading to plot inconsistencies and unconvincing characters, requiring patching one problem after another. Matthew Goode was replaced by Matthew Goode, but he only wanted to act until the end of the series and didn't want to do the movies, resulting in the absence of the female lead's husband character in the first two films. In the final movie, they had to write about their divorce because another car accident would have been too foolish.

Thankfully, the movie ended. If they were to make another one, I'd rather they make a prequel. The aristocratic life ended there. If there was any lingering glow after World War I, then World War II was the complete destruction of classical life. I can't imagine how many of them would have survived beyond World War II. The tide of time rolled in, and from the moment the master stepped into the "flat," the classical era bid us farewell. This is good news for us ordinary people, but no one can bear to see Downton Abbey disappear into history.

Everyone should see it!!! The feeling this movie evokes is simple: it smoothly and steadily guides a group of longtime friends back to their respective places.

There are no gimmicks or contrived climaxes, but the emotions are perfectly conveyed. Two moments touched me the most.

One is the tribute to Lady Violet. The cinematography isn't sentimental, the dialogue isn't heavy, but you can feel everyone expressing their gratitude in their own way.

It was incredibly moving. The other is Mary's look back.

She stands in Downton Abbey, quietly gazing at the hall. Memories of the past flood back, deeply moving!

If you've followed the series to this point, this finale is a perfect farewell!

There's a character limit to short reviews, so I'm going to ramble on here. After exam week, I crossed most of Singapore to see Downton Abbey 3, which I'd been longing to see.

The movie opened with a neon-lit neighborhood, so modern I thought I was in the wrong theater. Then I saw the names of the main actors: Hugh Bonneville, Elizabeth McGovern...

Okay, I wasn't in the wrong theater. I started crying from the opening credits.

I cried until the end credits. One of the end credits songs was "The Ideal Marriage." I listened to it on repeat on the subway on my way home, crying all the while.

Near the end of the movie, flashbacks appeared of many deceased characters: Matthew, Sybil, Granny. It was the first time I'd ever cried so hard in a movie theater.

What was I crying about? Actually, there wasn't much of a tearjerker plot.

You could even say there wasn't much of a plot. But that's the magic of Downton Abbey—it uses mundane everyday life to evoke the strongest emotions in you.

I first watched this show in sixth grade and didn't stop until Downton Abbey ended in my first year of graduate school. Eleven years of companionship; the characters in the show are like family to me now.

I came here as a girl, I leave as a woman. Downton Abbey has long been a part of my soul; watching the movie, I was actually shedding tears for myself.

I kept recalling the scenes of watching Downton Abbey over the past ten years. Over the past ten years, I've moved constantly, watching the same show in the living rooms of each house.

That distant afternoon when I first watched Downton Abbey in my little house on F Hill—could I have imagined that eleven years later I would be watching the finale in a deserted movie theater in a foreign land, tears streaming down my face? As a child, my emotions were extremely intense (and still are now), capable of loving a character to the point of madness and hating another with unbearable passion.

The long passage of time has gradually smoothed out my sharp emotions. Now, watching again, my feelings for everyone in the show have transformed into familial affection.

I love everyone, and I can't bear to part with anyone. Watching this show is like retracing my steps; the characters seem to have all appeared in my life, and I feel as if I've personally experienced all the stories within.

Downton Abbey has become a shelter in my spiritual world; its protection of my soul has not ended with the show's conclusion. The film's story, a tale of ordinary yet epic joys and sorrows, intertwines with our own world and lives, creating a complex tapestry that perhaps doesn't need to be clearly separated.

What is remembered is real. I was just talking about death with a friend yesterday.

She said she believes death is simply death, nonexistence. I said I think death is just a door.

Even if one rationally understands the biological principles of death, emotionally, one might refuse to believe it. My feelings towards Downton are somewhat similar.

I believe the story continues; the cast may have disbanded, but the Crawley family continues to move towards the future. Perhaps this is one reason I kept crying; I kept thinking about what happened after 1930, World War II, all sorts of anxieties.

My dear Mary, Edith... what will you experience next?

I'm afraid... Many quotes in the film review are from my close friend, "Boiled Fish." The title itself is also a quote.

After watching the film today, I sent her some thoughts, and she said, "We all have such a strong spiritual shelter; that's wonderful." Downton is also one of our shared languages. See?

Downton Abbey not only gave me a whole bunch of relatives in the parallel world, but also gave me a relative in the real world.