If you follow me on social media, you'll likely know I adore the show Downton Abbey, like so many others. I tend to give a wide berth to objects of intense popularity such as this, and did indeed feel some reluctance in engaging with this show, but despite the fondness for it in popular culture, I've found it to be quite good. So good, in fact, that it's become a bit of an obsession, the likes of which results in a loss of sleep. I'm prone to losing sleep, so if it wasn't this, it would probably be something else, but I can say that when I'm typically watching opportunities for sleep pass by me, I'm not quite so enthusiastic as it's happening.
Aside from losing rest to watch episodes over and over again, view interviews, and read articles, the emotions this season have also been responsible for keeping me awake, and are indeed why I'm writing this now. The finale of Season 3 just aired in the States and so stirred me I had to overflow somewhere.
I am, without a doubt, about to spoil it, so if you haven't seen this episode, or this season, or don't want to know, please discontinue reading.
A few weeks ago, Sybil died, and I cried, and cried, and cried. All three times I've seen it. As to be expected, the first time was particularly harsh. It's not unusual for me to get teary, but this was so bad my throat hurt. I felt bad for baby Sybbie, and Cora, and Tom. And myself really. Sybil Branson was 24. I'm 24. Dying in childbirth is frightening.
After my tears, I started moving on from that tragedy, but then tonight happened. This episode was quite good, and maybe that should have told me something. Perhaps it was too good to be true, and I should have seen disaster approaching, but I'll be honest, I didn't. I even knew Dan Stevens hadn't signed on for the next season, but I still was not expecting to see his character Matthew Crawley lying dead in the woods underneath his car, or anything of the like. I'm still shocked.
Even though I didn't cry so much over this loss, it did strike more deeply than the death of Sybil. At the risk of sounding extraordinarily girlish, I really, really liked Matthew. But not in that sense. Matthew was a good man. He bore up remarkably well under the expectations of a way of life he never sought; in the middle of rising to his elevated status he never forgot how to respect people; he loved his wife unwaveringly, and made her a better person. For me, Matthew (along with his cousin Violet) is at the center of why I've become so attached to this show. The world needs more men like him.
Even in the middle of my shock, though, my heart is making way for other feelings. I'm beginning to feel maybe it's not so gloomy as it seems. Perhaps I'm romanticizing the situation, but I almost feel like it's okay Matthew died. Not okay in the traditional sense of the word, but okay in the sense as it's impetus for a better story. Cora said to Edith "being tested...makes you stronger," and I see similar potential in the wake of Matthew's death.. The heir to the title of Grantham will grow up without a father. Tragic as that is, beautiful things can come from it. Just as Robert was starting to truly appreciate his son-in-law, he's no longer around for that appreciation to be shared. Mary will have to learn how to live with half of herself missing. I don't wish any of these things for anyone, but the wonderful thing about life is it can give the consolation of growth when all other joys have vanished. We humans would be a lot weaker if nothing tragic ever happened.
As good as those idealistic words sound, it is possible the alternative reason for the burgeoning consolation rising within me over Matthew's sudden demise is I like being sad. That may sound ridiculous, but I have noticed I'm quite fond of a remarkable number of things that make me cry. Tear-inducement almost seems to be a requirement for me to treasure something. And I'm beginning to notice that I almost always start to feel better after I've been plunged into a deep sadness. I can't confirm this, but I am a melancholic person, so I guess it's not too much to assume.
Whichever is true, my affinity to sadness or true potential for a more meaningful story, I am now looking forward to the next season. I'm guaranteed one of two things: either it'll be so tragic I'll get my thrills, or redemptive themes will rise in Matthew's absence and a better story will be told. Perhaps both will happen. Even with these exciting possibilities (I don't really mean exciting...and yet I do), it will be hard to adjust to seeing the Crawleys without Matthew. Oh! And I just remembered, before I leave here, a few words on the man who so excellently portrayed Matthew, Dan Stevens.
I've seen a lot of ire spewed forth at the man online since the end of this season. The reality is Matthew died because Dan decided to leave the show. He had his reasons, mainly that he wanted to be free to do other things (like be on Broadway), and I don't criticize him for his decision. But it's still true that he is essentially the one who killed Matthew. The show's writer, Julian Fellowes, did not want to exterminate him, but had no choice. Some have said the lack of Matthew will affect the quality of the show, and that's why they're upset. Perhaps it will. Time will tell. However, the more overwhelming criticism I've seen of Dan's decision is nothing more than he made the person complaining sad.
...this line of reasoning does not make any sense to me. I don't mean to sound insensitive when I say this, but there is no crime in making someone sad. A perfect example in the show is Sybil's decision to marry Tom. In doing so, she left a tremendous lot behind her, most importantly her family. It made them very sad, but should she have not done it for that reason? I don't think so. When children around the world leave the home of their parents to make their own life, their parents feel sadness, but it's still good and right for those children to move on. Criticizing them for causing their parents to be sad seems senseless. I don't see why it makes anymore sense in this situation. Some things which often accompany sadness are unacceptable, like betrayal, and insult, but I find no wrong in sadness itself.
Of course, this could just be the melancholy in me speaking. I'm quite at home in mourning. I don't guess I should suppose everyone else is. Dan can rest assured, though, that although he made me very sad, I am only sad and nothing else. Consider it a job well done. I cared about Matthew enough to be saddened by his sudden death, and wouldn't have done so without such an excellent portrayal. Well done, Mr. Stevens, and I do hope you've enjoyed working on Broadway.
Aside from losing rest to watch episodes over and over again, view interviews, and read articles, the emotions this season have also been responsible for keeping me awake, and are indeed why I'm writing this now. The finale of Season 3 just aired in the States and so stirred me I had to overflow somewhere.
I am, without a doubt, about to spoil it, so if you haven't seen this episode, or this season, or don't want to know, please discontinue reading.
A few weeks ago, Sybil died, and I cried, and cried, and cried. All three times I've seen it. As to be expected, the first time was particularly harsh. It's not unusual for me to get teary, but this was so bad my throat hurt. I felt bad for baby Sybbie, and Cora, and Tom. And myself really. Sybil Branson was 24. I'm 24. Dying in childbirth is frightening.
After my tears, I started moving on from that tragedy, but then tonight happened. This episode was quite good, and maybe that should have told me something. Perhaps it was too good to be true, and I should have seen disaster approaching, but I'll be honest, I didn't. I even knew Dan Stevens hadn't signed on for the next season, but I still was not expecting to see his character Matthew Crawley lying dead in the woods underneath his car, or anything of the like. I'm still shocked.
Even though I didn't cry so much over this loss, it did strike more deeply than the death of Sybil. At the risk of sounding extraordinarily girlish, I really, really liked Matthew. But not in that sense. Matthew was a good man. He bore up remarkably well under the expectations of a way of life he never sought; in the middle of rising to his elevated status he never forgot how to respect people; he loved his wife unwaveringly, and made her a better person. For me, Matthew (along with his cousin Violet) is at the center of why I've become so attached to this show. The world needs more men like him.
Even in the middle of my shock, though, my heart is making way for other feelings. I'm beginning to feel maybe it's not so gloomy as it seems. Perhaps I'm romanticizing the situation, but I almost feel like it's okay Matthew died. Not okay in the traditional sense of the word, but okay in the sense as it's impetus for a better story. Cora said to Edith "being tested...makes you stronger," and I see similar potential in the wake of Matthew's death.. The heir to the title of Grantham will grow up without a father. Tragic as that is, beautiful things can come from it. Just as Robert was starting to truly appreciate his son-in-law, he's no longer around for that appreciation to be shared. Mary will have to learn how to live with half of herself missing. I don't wish any of these things for anyone, but the wonderful thing about life is it can give the consolation of growth when all other joys have vanished. We humans would be a lot weaker if nothing tragic ever happened.
As good as those idealistic words sound, it is possible the alternative reason for the burgeoning consolation rising within me over Matthew's sudden demise is I like being sad. That may sound ridiculous, but I have noticed I'm quite fond of a remarkable number of things that make me cry. Tear-inducement almost seems to be a requirement for me to treasure something. And I'm beginning to notice that I almost always start to feel better after I've been plunged into a deep sadness. I can't confirm this, but I am a melancholic person, so I guess it's not too much to assume.
Whichever is true, my affinity to sadness or true potential for a more meaningful story, I am now looking forward to the next season. I'm guaranteed one of two things: either it'll be so tragic I'll get my thrills, or redemptive themes will rise in Matthew's absence and a better story will be told. Perhaps both will happen. Even with these exciting possibilities (I don't really mean exciting...and yet I do), it will be hard to adjust to seeing the Crawleys without Matthew. Oh! And I just remembered, before I leave here, a few words on the man who so excellently portrayed Matthew, Dan Stevens.
I've seen a lot of ire spewed forth at the man online since the end of this season. The reality is Matthew died because Dan decided to leave the show. He had his reasons, mainly that he wanted to be free to do other things (like be on Broadway), and I don't criticize him for his decision. But it's still true that he is essentially the one who killed Matthew. The show's writer, Julian Fellowes, did not want to exterminate him, but had no choice. Some have said the lack of Matthew will affect the quality of the show, and that's why they're upset. Perhaps it will. Time will tell. However, the more overwhelming criticism I've seen of Dan's decision is nothing more than he made the person complaining sad.
...this line of reasoning does not make any sense to me. I don't mean to sound insensitive when I say this, but there is no crime in making someone sad. A perfect example in the show is Sybil's decision to marry Tom. In doing so, she left a tremendous lot behind her, most importantly her family. It made them very sad, but should she have not done it for that reason? I don't think so. When children around the world leave the home of their parents to make their own life, their parents feel sadness, but it's still good and right for those children to move on. Criticizing them for causing their parents to be sad seems senseless. I don't see why it makes anymore sense in this situation. Some things which often accompany sadness are unacceptable, like betrayal, and insult, but I find no wrong in sadness itself.
Of course, this could just be the melancholy in me speaking. I'm quite at home in mourning. I don't guess I should suppose everyone else is. Dan can rest assured, though, that although he made me very sad, I am only sad and nothing else. Consider it a job well done. I cared about Matthew enough to be saddened by his sudden death, and wouldn't have done so without such an excellent portrayal. Well done, Mr. Stevens, and I do hope you've enjoyed working on Broadway.
