Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale — Going out in style

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale (2025) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for no particular reason

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.21.25

Trust Julian Fellowes to strike gold again.

 

The creator and primary writer behind Downton Abbey has overseen an impressive and always engaging run since the television serial debuted back in September 2010. Six series — encompassing 52 episodes — and three big-screen films later, Fellowes has lost none of his narrative magic.

 

The Downton clan — from left, Lady Edith (Laura Carmichael), Lord Grandtham (Hugh
Bonneville), Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery), Tom Branson (Allen Leech), Cora Grantham
(Elizabeth McGovern) and Bertie Hexham (Harry Hadden-Paton) — pause during
dinner, to ponder some uncomfortable decisions.

This (truly?) final installment brings everybody back to their beloved Yorkshire country estate, along with sequences set in traditionally British high spots such as the Royal Ascot racetrack and a sumptuous formal London ball. (Entertaining as it was, the previous film — A New Era — found everybody a bit out of place, in the south of France.) 

Even so, I worried that the absence of Maggie Smith’s Dowager Countess Violet Crawley would leave a gaping hole in the many carefully crafted relationship dynamics, which Fellowes established over so many years. 

 

Happily, she’s very much in evidence, and not merely via the handsome portrait displayed prominently in the estate’s grand hall. The Dowager Countess’ spirit also is present, and her marvelously tart one-liners have been taken up by Penelope Wilton’s Lady Isobel Merton, who delivers them with equal genteel frostiness.

 

The year is 1930, and the Crawleys — Lord Grantham (Hugh Bonneville), Lady Cora Grantham (Elizabeth McGovern), Lady Edith Hexham (Laura Carmichael) and her husband, Lord Hexham (Harry Hadden-Paton) — have just enjoyed a performance of Noël Coward’s operetta, Bitter Sweet. They’re in posh orchestral seats, of course, while Mr. Bates (Brendan Coyle), his pregnant wife Anna (Joanne Froggatt) and Miss Baxter (Raquel Cassidy) watch from an upper balcony.

 

A backstage visit grants additional exposure to Coward (Arty Froushan, who truly nails the role), star Guy Dexter (Dominic West) and his valet/companion, Thomas Barrow (Robert James-Collier), former Downton junior footman-turned-butler.

 

Coward ultimately plays a significant role in the film’s third act, and his presence also allows for carefully placed and thematically significant songs, including “I’ll See You Again,” “The Stately Homes of England” and “Poor Little Rich Girl.” The first is from the operetta, while the latter two are clever, Coward-esque songs by soundtrack composer John Lunn, who has been with the series from the beginning. (And yes, his iconic title theme is suitably placed.)

 

A running plot line from the first two big-screen films continues to stress the Crawleys: the increasing financial difficulty of maintaining Downton, along with their lifestyle, amid the socio-economic changes taking place during this period between wars. To that end, the family has placed great hope in an inheritance due Cora, following the death of her mother; her “black sheep” brother — Harold (Paul Giamatti), not seen since the TV show’s fourth season — arrives to share these details, accompanied by financial advisor Gus Sambrook (Alessandro Nivola).

 

But that issue is torpedoed abruptly, by the public revelation of Lady Mary’s (Michelle Dockery) divorce from her husband, Henry Talbot. This makes her persona non grata at Lady Petersfield’s Ball — the highlight of the social calendar — where Mary is ordered to leave, because in their aristocratic circle she immediately shifts from society darling to shamed outcast. (Additionally a pity, because we don’t get to see much of the sumptuous gown in which costume designer Anna Robbins garbed her, for this scene.)

 

Downton Abbey: A New Era — A carefully calculated crowd-pleaser

Downton Abbey: A New Era (2022) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for no particular reason

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

This certainly is the epitome of “comfort cinema.”

 

As this ensemble cast has expanded since the series 2010 debut, writer/creator Julian Fellowes has done an impressive job of granting every new character ample individuality, exposure and melodramatic plot points. We’ve lost only two major players, over time — Matthew and Sybil Crawley (Dan Stevens and Jessica Brown Findlay) — while adding several dozen more.

 

After sound engineer Stubbins (Alex McQueen, in headphones) orders total silence from
everybody else, Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery) tries hard to match her spoken dialogue
to the silent images being projected on a screen.

Goodness, it takes several minutes, during this sequel’s title credits montage, just to run through the entire cast list.

Not that this is any sort of problem. Fellowes knows his audience, just as all the players have grown comfortable with their roles. Spending another two hours with these characters is like enjoying an evening with beloved friends and relatives.

 

This film’s subtitle — “A New Era” — is both apt and a bit misleading. On the one hand, it does signify both a pop-culture shift (about which, more in a moment) and a change in fortune for both the Crawley family and a few of their “downstairs” servants. Yet the rise of such working-class individuals, and the accelerating decline of the aristocracy — which played such a key role in the TV series’ final season — is largely ignored here, even though we’ve moved forward another year, to 1928.

 

Indeed, this film concludes on a note that suggests nothing has changed in this respect, as if the real-world’s socio-political clock had ceased to move forward. Granted, that prompts a cheerful, audience-pleasing tableau, if this is to be our final glimpse of these characters — assuming Fellowes isn’t persuaded to do yet another film — but it’s a bit of a cheat.

 

Not that fans will care a whit.

 

The story begins as Tom Branson (Allen Leech), the Earl of Grantham’s widowed son-in-law, marries Lucy Smith (Tuppence Middleton): a celebration that makes good on the previous film’s swooningly romantic finale. This is the “upstairs” answer to the earlier, humbler but equally romantic wedding of adorably impertinent assistant cook Daisy (Sophie McShera) and footman Andy (Michael Fox), now living in the tenancy home of her father-in-law, Mr. Mason (Paul Copley).

 

Two unexpected events land simultaneously. The British Lion Film Studio expresses interest in shooting its next silent costume drama, The Gambler, at Downton Abbey — a notion that horrifies the Earl, Robert Crawley (Hugh Bonneville), and retired butler Mr. Carson (Jim Carter) — and the Dowager Countess Violet Crawley (Maggie Smith) learns that she has been bequeathed a villa in the south of France, in the will of the recently deceased Marquis de Montmirail. 

 

The latter prompts all manner of raised eyebrows, but Violet refuses to provide any explanation; she tartly refers only to her “mysterious past” (a line delivered with Smith’s typically arch smugness).

Downton Abbey: A joyous reunion

Downton Abbey (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang

Goodness. What more could one desire?

Despite having settled everybody quite pleasingly, when Downton Abbey concluded its television run on Christmas Day 2015, creator/writer Julian Fellowes once again has worked his magic: ingeniously concocting fresh upstairs/downstairs dramas that unite the aristocratic Crawley family and its voluminous house staff.

When cascading events at Downton prove too overwhelming for the comparatively
untrained head butler, Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery, center) asks Mr. Carson (Jim Carter)
to return, much to the amusement of Mrs. Hughes (Phyllis Logan).

Mind you — as always was the case, during six enthralling television seasons — the Crawleys remain more progressive than most of their stuffy peers, and the staff manages far more impertinence and independent thinking, than ever would have been allowed, back in the day. Such is the shrewdness of Fellowes, who layers these one-century-removed escapades with enough modern attitude to reference contemporary issues, without damaging the period authenticity.

All the while making us smile, occasionally giggle and — yes, even this — shed a tear or two.

Very little has changed here, aside from the slight march of time. Fellowes managed to assemble just about the entire cast: a frankly stunning achievement, given that several of these talented actors have moved on with their individual careers. The only notable absence is Lily James’ Lady Rose MacClare, and I do miss the warmth of her sparkling smile; she always was a breath of effervescence, alongside the far more severe Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery) and Lady Edith (Laura Carmichael).

This big-screen adventure unfolds like an even better Christmas special; the enhanced budget’s only noticeable impact is a broader location backdrop for production designer Donal Woods to fill — which he does splendidly — and cinematographer Ben Smithard’s spectacular swooping shots of Downton and a few of its equally majestic neighbors.

Indeed, the film opens on an extremely clever sequence, as Smithard’s camera follows the posting of a Most Important Letter, while it crosses England by train and — finally — reaches its destination by individual carrier. That would be Downtown, of course, and our first glimpse of its familiar grounds is accompanied by the equally familiar swell of composer John Lunn’s iconic theme. 

Theater patrons breathed an audible sigh of happy satisfaction, at that moment.

The year is 1927. Some children have grown a bit older; a few new moppets have arrived. The aforementioned letter announces the impending arrival of their Majesties King George V and Queen Mary, who will stay at Downton for a full day, during a tour of Grantham and the surrounding countryside. This news naturally causes all manner of consternation, given the precise dictates of custom, tradition and regard. 

The Earl (Hugh Bonneville) and his wife, Cora (Elizabeth McGovern) — Mary and Edith’s parents — have all manner of details to coordinate, not the least of which is the royal parade scheduled for the same afternoon: an event eagerly anticipated by all the local townsfolk. Downstairs, Mrs. Hughes (Phyllis Logan), Mr. Bates (Brendan Coyle), Mrs. Patmore (Lesley Nicol) and all the other servants are just as excited about this opportunity to attend to the most prestigious guests in the land.

The Commuter: Catch the next train

The Commuter (2018) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated PG-13, for action violence and occasional profanity
By Derrick Bang

When Lewis Carroll’s Alice quite reasonably suggests that one can’t believe impossible things, the Queen of Hearts insists that “Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

The queen would have been right at home with this movie.

When Joanna (Vera Farmiga) — a total stranger — sits opposite Michael (Liam Neeson)
and proposes a mysterious "what if?" scenario, he assumes that she's merely passing the
time during their commute. Increasingly unlikely events quickly will demonstrate that
she's completely serious...

Director Jaume Collet-Serra’s The Commuter is a hilariously ludicrous start to the cinematic new year: a thriller that makes absolutely no sense and survives on momentum alone ... until it doesn’t.

The script — assign the blame to Byron Willinger, Philip de Blasi and Ryan Engle — sails right past improbable and far-fetched, and heads straight into preposterous. It demands a suspension of disbelief far beyond the capability of mere mortals.

Theater ushers will have quite a task after each screening, carefully scooping up all the viewer eyeballs that have rolled right out of their sockets.

This storyline probably began with the intriguing notion that regular commuters — despite sharing (in this case) the same New York train, five days a week, 52 weeks a year — really don’t know much about the folks with whom they exchange cheerful greetings twice each day. What secrets might be concealed behind those superficial smiles?

Insurance salesman Michael MacCauley (Liam Neeson) finds out one day, when his late-afternoon trip home is interrupted by an enigmatic woman (Vera Farmiga, as Joanna) who sits in the opposite chair and strikes up a conversation. She behaves like a friendly, flirty psychologist, posing a “What would you do for $100,000?” scenario.

Michael indulges her (already unlikely, on a New York City train).

Perhaps, being well read, he recognizes this riff on Richard Matheson’s 1970 short story, “Button, Button,” in which a mysterious man gives a poverty-stricken couple a box with a button, promising $200,000 if they push the button, which will kill “someone whom you don’t know.” (It was filmed as an episode of the 1985-86 revival of The Twilight Zone, and then again in 2009, as the feature film The Box.)

Joanna departs at the next station, with an ambiguous comment that suggests her scenario isn’t all that fictitious. Michael, curious, investigates ... and finds a percentage of the cash, hidden right where she promised. At which point, she calls his smart phone, insists that he now has no choice but to comply with her demands ... lest his wife (Elizabeth McGovern) and son be harmed.

Michael’s task: to find the person on the train who “doesn’t belong,” is carrying a bag, and answers to the name of “Prin.” Before the train reaches the end of the line.

Woman in Gold: Engaging art world saga

Woman in Gold (2015) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang

Director Simon Curtis’ absorbing, ripped-from-the-headlines drama could be considered the All the President’s Men of the art world.

During a visit to Austria, Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren) and her young friend and colleague,
Randy Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds), make a point of visiting Vienna's Belvedere Gallery,
where the painting Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer has been displayed since just after
World War II. The question is whether it deserves to remain there...

Much the way that 1976 classic made journalistic investigation so fascinating, scripter Alexi Kaye Campbell breathes intrigue and tension into what — in the real world — unfolded as an extended, research-heavy, David vs. Goliath courtroom battle. Campbell has the advantage of the considerable tension surrounding the saga’s Holocaust origins; the result, while sometimes sliding into clichéd melodrama, builds to a suspenseful finale.

On one side of the dispute: octogenarian Jewish refugee Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren) and her callow, almost laughably inexperienced attorney, Randy Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds).

On the other side: the entire country of Austria, personified by condescending museum owners and Ministry of Culture officials.

The situation at issue: actual ownership of five paintings by Austrian master Gustav Klimt, most notably his legendary Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, a work iconic enough to be recognized even by people who know nothing about art.

As it happens, Adele Bloch-Bauer was Maria Altmann’s aunt ... and therein lies the tale.

Curtis and Campbell divide their narrative between the late 1930s, leading up to and immediately following Hitler’s annexation of Austria; and the late 1990s, beginning with a stack of letters found by Maria, in the twilight of her comfortable years in California, following the death of her beloved sister. The letters’ contents raise intriguing questions, prompting Maria to seek advice from Randy, a budding attorney and the grandson of a family friend.

Randy initially wants nothing to do with what he perceives is a ludicrous, hopeless case; he’s much too busy trying to fit in at the prestigious legal firm where he has just been hired by the authoritative senior partner (Charles Dance, in a brief but suitably intimidating role). But Maria, imperious in her own right, plays the “Jewish heritage” card ... and, before he quite realizes what has happened, Randy is hooked.

An exploratory visit to Austria hardens his interest, after he and Maria are rebuffed by the aforementioned cultural officials. Despite the restitution law passed by Austria’s Green Party in 1998, they discover — with the assistance of Austrian investigative journalist Hubertus Czernin (Daniel Brühl) — that this supposed display of “justice” is little more than a PR ploy, which the country’s nationalists have no intention of applying to any truly revered artworks.

And nothing is more revered than Klimt’s masterpiece, regarded, as Czernin explains, as “Austria’s Mona Lisa.”