"None of that behaviour in my kitchen"... Watching 'Upstairs, Downstairs'

[Mel O'Drama]

​

First of all, the big question: To Comma, Or Not To Comma? Most sources seem to include one between the two words of the title but the onscreen title card doesn’t have one. IMDb and Wikipedia seem to agree that the 1971 series has a comma, differentiating it from the 21st Century continuation. The blurb on the back of the DVD also includes the comma. It still feels a bit wrong to me, and I may well slip up, but I'll attempt to go with the majority on this.

I had to do a bit of research into the viewing order. At the back of my mind was a vague recollection of reading something about a pilot episode and I feared watching them out of order. Nothing throws off a chronological series watch like getting to the end of Series One and then discovering the actual first episode tucked away as a bonus feature on the last disc.

As it turns out, the episodes are in the correct order on the disc, but the first episode still isn’t the first episode as originally shot and transmitted. Because the first five or six episodes were made in black and white due to that infamous ITV colour strike, there was a fear that the series couldn’t be sold overseas (particularly to the lucrative American market), and might not be so appealing on repeats. To resolve this, when colour service resumed, the first episode was completely re-shot and two versions were produced from that re-shoot: one a perfect match for the black and white original (to lead into the black and white Episode Two), and another with a different ending so that the chronology matched up with the next colour episode (Episode Seven?) for those stations and markets that wished not to screen any black and white episodes at all.

Sadly, it seems the original black and white first episode was wiped. I can understand that it would have seemed pointless to ITV to have THREE versions of a single episode, but it does mean that that historic document - the first episode as transmitted back in 1971 - is gone forever. But it could be far worse. At least the remaining black and white episodes weren’t also wiped.

Watching the first two episodes back to back, the switch from colour back to black and white does indeed feel a little jarring. It does look less glossy and sumptuous, but I suspect there’s also the fact that the series was more broken in and perfected by the time they re-shot Episode One in colour. It shows in some little details. Lady Bellamy’s hair, for example, is enormous in the colour version of Episode One. In Episode Two - shot earlier in black and white - it’s still large, but not quite so grandiose. Could the growing hair be a sign of the production’s growing confidence once they got into stride?

I am a complete newcomer to the series, not having watched a single episode before. Of course, the series’ reputation precedes it. I know it was hugely popular both at home and abroad, and successful enough to become the template for later series that would utilise this setup, from You Rang M’Lord to Downton Abbey (at least I suspect so. Downton has also eluded me to date). It’s part of pop culture enough to have been spoofed and satirised, as well as the title becoming a descriptive shorthand. Everyone knows what the title means, even if they’ve never watched the series. And I should know.

It's past time for me to dive in...

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series One
On Trial / The Mistress and The Maids​

As all good introductory episodes seem to do, we mostly meet the characters through the eyes of an onscreen newcomer.

I particularly appreciate the layers to this particular story, with Clemence/Sarah meeting the downstairs colleagues who will also effectively be her housemates. Each of those situations by itself comes with its own dynamic and there’s a balance to be struck, with the pecking order made firmly clear so that Sarah knows her place.

Thrown into this mix are the employers upstairs, and the intricate dance of the daily routines and the accompanying etiquette when interactions become necessary and the two worlds meet.

Making things more challenging and interesting for us as viewers sharing her experience, Sarah herself is an unreliable narrator. A compulsive liar with delusions of grandeur to conceal a very humble - and quite possibly tragic - past. At one point, when embroidering her background to her new colleagues she actually tells the story of Cinderella, right down to the wicked stepmother.

It’s to Pauline Collins’s credit that those things which threaten to alienate Sarah even further from her already distrusting colleagues make the character more endearing to us, because it’s plain that behind it is a kind of self-esteem-related fear which suggests she either doesn’t know how to fit in or simply feels she won’t be good enough.

The key relationship for me is that between Sarah and housemaid Rose, with Rose initially the loudest voice of Sarah’s unsuitability gradually thawing over the first episode to the extent that Rose becomes something of a protective older sibling.

As Rose, series co-creator Jean Marsh (appearing on O'Dramavision in recent weeks as a team member on Give Us A Clue) is wonderfully understated. I found her rather underwhelming at first, but the morning after watching those first two episodes find that it’s her scenes that have perhaps the most resonance. Her initial scenes see her being frosty, haughty and a little waspish towards “Clemence” as she arrives for her interview, firmly establishing that the position is for an under housemaid, with Rose herself the housemaid.

She responds to Sarah’s blatant untruth about previously living in a chateau by mockingly - and repeatedly - asking her to “say something in French”.

It quickly becomes apparent that Rose herself is threatened by the new arrival, alluded to early in the piece when, in the course of dinner conversation, Rose is reminded how important it is to give the newcomer the chance to fit in, strongly suggesting that she, too, didn’t immediately fit in.

The perceived threat from Sarah was reinforced when Lady Bellamy entrusted Sarah to repair a priceless embroidered cushion, having recognised her delicate hand. For a short time I feared Rose might actually sabotage Sarah’s perfect work but, to her credit, she swallowed her pride and allowed Sarah to take the cushion upstairs herself. These small moments allow her character to emerge as one who is fair-minded and with integrity.

Pretty soon, Rose is acknowledging Sarah’s assets, such as her good memory for instructions. And she helps Sarah put her best foot forwards - quite literally - by offering her own spare pair of boots in place of Sarah’s worn ones:

Bit small, I dare say, but better sore feet than shabby boots.

I feel the real turning point in their relationship - as well as the staff really warming to Sarah - comes after Sarah has been caught out having stolen and sold a bird from the larder (something Mrs Bridges herself also does regularly), in the course of which it emerges that Sarah can't write. She breaks down and it feels like the first honest, vulnerable moment for her character. But it’s the pained look of pity and empathy on Jean Marsh's face as Rose which really sells it.

Later, in their shared bed, Sarah - still feeling shaky - asks why Rose helped her:

I like the ‘ouse to run properly, that’s all. And we should all help our neighbours.

I used to dream of all kinds of future for myself. I never thought I’d end up in service.

It’s not so bad. It’s safe. You know what you are, an’ what’s gonna happen next. The outside world is dangerous. Or perhaps it only seems to to us cos we’re ignorant… I was gonna be married once. ‘E was killed in the war in Africa. They gave ‘im a medal for bein’ so brave. Silly bugger.

As well as some insight into Rose’s backstory, it’s her attitude which is perhaps the most telling. This isn’t a job or career for her. It’s a way of life. And as she goes on to describe her mother sacrificing in order for her to get into service and ride in a carriage we realise that, unlike Sarah, this is something Rose of which has always dreamt. It’s an ambition which has been realised, one which is desperately important to her. So entrenched is she in this way of life that she’s become institutionalised. Much in the way that structure becomes disproportionately important to long term boarding school pupils, psychiatric hospital patients or prisoners, so one feels Rose would struggle to function without the daily routine, the bells to answer and the familiar pecking order. And without fuss or even an explicit acknowledgement, Rose makes complete sense.

Crucially, this adds to the sense of jeopardy in the second episode when both Sarah and Rose appear in Anton Rogers’ naked painting, despite Rose never even having met him. With both of their positions in jeopardy, this time it’s Sarah who saves Rose by telling the truth. It’s clear that the friendship between the two has deepened still further between these two episodes, with Sarah happily chattering about their plan to save some money and open a boarding house in Brighton, which is very sweet indeed.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

On Trial / The Mistress and The Maids
continued...
​

As for the rest of the players, well, the news is good. It’s a wonderful ensemble.

Gordon Jackson is a familiar name to me. The Professionals is the first thing to spring to mind, since that was my first awareness of him, but these days I know him best through many, many warm mentions of him in Kenneth Williams’s writings, since Gordon and his wife Rona were among Kenneth’s closest friends and held in very high esteem by him. Shamefully I’ve seen him in very little, apart from a handful of The Professionals episodes and the immortal Whisky Galore. As Hudson, he has gravitas and a nice balance of crisp professionalism and warmth. I suspect it will take time to get to know him, and that’s fine. It was impressive to see that he initially got his character across almost wordlessly as he silently ordered Sarah to the servant’s entrance rather than the front door, then glided ahead of her ignoring her with just the occasional throwaway signal that got across how far below him he considers her. And as he reminds Sarah:

It is not for you to question your betters.

Mrs Bridges is the most familiar character name from the series and it’s easy to see why. Angela Baddeley’s performance is thunderous - almost Dickensian. There’s a welcome humour to her performance, but it’s also very earthy and so feels quite real. Her delivery - her whole presence - feels big while staying just the right side of over the top. There’s a bit of Lou Beale here. A touch of Eighties Joan Sims there. And it’s perfect. She also had some of the best lines in the opening episode:

We don’t want no foreign muck in ‘ere. None of your nasty old Josine, thank you very much.

None of that behaviour in my kitchen, Mr Pearce. Keep that for your stables.

It’s Mrs Bridges, if you please. Not cook. This is a gentleman’s house.

Patsy Smart is another familiar face, mostly from sitcom appearances in the Seventies and Eighties where she invariably played the dotty old bat. Her regular role of Miss Dingle in the latter days of Terry & June is where I know her best. I’ve found her to be an endearing actress, if not a good one. But I’m already questioning if I’ve underestimated her, since she feels a little more forceful as Maud Roberts, if still comfortingly dippy as she’s beside herself about lost buttonhooks or whatever. I love her character’s aesthetics: the long flowing dark clothes and the silver love-heart hairdo give her a gothic, vampiric air.

With Sarah in particular getting a lot of screen-time, other downstairs characters have felt more background and are less clear to me.

If I’ve got the characters straight, Sarah has been MeTooed by both Alfred and Mr Pearce (as well as Scone’s blouse ripping throwdown on the bed in Episode Two). However, Pearce (at least I think it’s him) is more friendly and (goosing aside) harmless and was one of the first to support Sarah. Alfred’s a much darker character, with suggestions he at the very least sexually harassed Sarah’s predecessor Kate, as well as hints of mental illness and perhaps even post-traumatic stress of some kind. There’s dramatic potential there. He had one of the first episode’s most memorable lines as well:

A silent woman is above rubies.

Incidentally, it strongly comes across that downstairs is “us” and upstairs “them”. It’s the staff we meet first and get to know best, while the wealthy employers remain somewhat distanced from us. Even here, though, there are insights into the Bellamys’ outlook on the changing society and life in general:

It’s the thin end of the wedge, you know. Soon we’ll see divorced people everywhere and be obliged to chat and smile as if it were nothing unusual.

In a moment I’m afraid you will say “And the old Queen hardly cold in her grave”.

Well, it’s true. I don’t like change. It goes too quickly. Becomes not progress but disintegration.

Lady Marjorie’s easy interactions with Sarah were magic. She seemed to find the lack of grace, propriety and boundaries thoroughly refreshing. I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes.

Part of the reason I’d avoided Upstairs, Downstairs for so long was a bit of an aversion to period dramas in general. Mid century is one thing, but the Edwardian Era is another matter. Once we hit anything prior to The Great War my interest frequently wanes. I was expecting something of an earnest and serious drama, so the injections of quirky, lighthearted tones and colourful characters were the loveliest of surprises. It was evident right from the opening scene with its upbeat soundtrack and wonderful timing from Pauline Collins and Gordon Jackson, and it only got better and better as it progressed. I hesitate to say "comedy drama" or "dramedy", but this is definitely a drama with a sense of fun. I also feel quite invested in the stories so far. I suspect each episode might focus on a different character, allowing me to get to know them better and this is something that I await with a little excitement.

 

[James from London]

I hesitate to say "comedy drama" or "dramedy", but this is definitely a drama with a sense of fun.

I'm probably not using the phrase correctly, but I think of UP/DOWN partly as a comedy of manners in the same way as THE SOPRANOS is: it mines the social strata, etiquette and pecking order, and the myriad little nuances contained within, of the world in which these characters live to great effect.

I'm not necessarily huge on period dramas either, but one thing I think UP/DOWN captures so well is, while everyone inside the house knows their place and what's expected of them (more or less), an increasing sense of unease of the world outside shifting and changing - Lady Marjorie's comments about divorce being a good example. The soaps have always done it - Albert Tatlock or whoever saying "It's not like it was in my day" etc. - but UP/DOWN has an added dimension of hindsight. The writers know and we know how far things will change in a way the characters don't.

I look forward to the next instalment!

 

[Mel O'Drama]

I'm not necessarily huge on period dramas either, but one thing I think UP/DOWN captures so well is, while everyone inside the house knows their place and what's expected of them (more or less), an increasing sense of unease of the world outside shifting and changing - Lady Marjorie's comments about divorce being a good example.

That sums it up really well, and I know exactly what you mean (at least as much as it's possible to know when I'm 100 minutes into a 3400 minute(!) story.

Rose's line about being safe and the outside world being dangerous really reinforced the importance of the house and its structure. It's like things are frozen in time as much as possible, and that's just how most of the characters want it (but I'm hoping for a few rebels as well).

UP/DOWN has an added dimension of hindsight. The writers know and we know how far things will change in a way the characters don't.

Yes, and one of the things I know going in is that the series spans a good couple of decades, which should spice things up nicely.

I look forward to the next instalment!

Thanks - and also thanks for the recommendation. Knowing you and @Thrillie Trolleson had watched it helped push me into watching it sooner rather than later.

If you can call half a century after it aired "sooner".

 

[Willie Oleson]

To Comma, Or Not To Comma?

If titles can be considered artistic then I vote for no comma.

 

[James from London]

How many eps of Up! Down! did you manage, Thrillie, before hurling it out of the nearest window?

 

[Willie Oleson]

Five, maybe six episodes. And then I plonked it into the wheelie bin with all the might I could muster.
I was so angry, I felt betrayed. It wasn't about the money spent on the box set, it was about the soap that wasn't meant for me.
In hindsight, perhaps I should have known. After all, if it had taken me so many years to watch it then maybe I never really wanted it to begin with.

The (spontaneous) purchase was based on a childhood memory, I remembered my mother and aunts talking about it.
And since they also liked Peyton Place and Who Pays The Ferryman I figured I would like this series too.

Patsy Kensit is a huge fan of U/D, and her sexy voice describing the characters and events almost, almost made me reconsider.
I'm not saying it's not good and I'm sure there are parts in it I would enjoy, but the overall vibe I got from the "Christmassy" characters and drab sets (including the upstairs rooms) wasn't a very pleasant one.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series One
Board Wages / The Path Of Duty / A Suitable Marriage / Magic Casements ​

This run has reinforced just how risqué the presentation feels. Certainly, some of the events in the series so far are scandalous and shocking by the standards of Edwardian England, but it also feels quite daring for 1971. We’ve already had Scone’s titties painting, and these episodes include Rose walking in on Alfred in flagrante delicto with another man, and Lady Marjorie having a steamy affair with a younger man. While I understand these early episodes were shown quite late at night, the period dressing of the series makes it feel like an “8pm on a Sunday evening” kind of series, and with that mindset it does feel as though it pushes the envelope. I dare say the black and white deepens this as well, since it really does conjure up images of more innocent times.

It’s a wee bit annoying to realise - too late - that the episodes are placed out of order on the discs. Magic Casements - a return to colour - is the sixth episode, but should really be seventh. Meanwhile, I’ve yet to watch the actual sixth episode, which is one of the black and white ones. Ah well. I don’t appear to have been given any huge spoilers or had continuity ruined.

Something that also felt surprising (even though I knew it was coming. Perhaps I know more about this series than I’d thought) was the departure of Sarah at the end of the third episode. What made it feel most unexpected is that, up to this point, Sarah has been the most heavily featured character. We were introduced to the characters through her eyes in Episode One. The second episode had her sittings with Scone and the accompanying controversy. The third episode completes the hat-trick, with Sarah quickly becoming the focus in the scene that folllows the downstairs lot (sans Hudson and Mrs Bridges, naturally) drunkenly cavorting round the empty house play acting at being the masters.

Pauline Collins was wonderfully comic as the drunken girl pretending to be posh. In almost all her scenes to this point, it’s felt like she’s been channeling Barbara Windsor - she certainly sounded almost identical to her anyway. But in these drunken scenes there’s a preview of the Pauline Collins we’ll see in No - Honestly. She goes all dreamy, as Sarah is wont to do, and does that hilarious talking out of the side of her mouth thing while talking posh.

Of course, we knew that someone was going to come home and walk into the scene, but there was still a bit of a twist when it was someone we, the audience, hadn’t met before: the Bellamys’ son, James.

James’s response to the situation is delightfully - almost quirkily - unexpected… he played along. Sarah has just called imperiously for Hudson, so he “plays” Hudson, serving drinks to the shame-faced servants until they’re pig sick. Sarah’s response to this is equally quirky. She continues to play her part and is the only one who doesn’t end up force fed spirits because she raises her voice haughtily to James as though he really is her servant. For a time, she seems completely in control of the situation and James seems to admire that. It’s all a bit bizarre and perhaps unlikely, but the atmosphere in the room is thick with tension and a kind of horror.

For her third consecutive episode Sarah was objectified by a man as James forced her to get changed and then lovingly put his mother’s nightwear on her.

Even after all this, Sarah suddenly deciding to leave felt sudden. She’s already almost been thrown out for stealing food, and again for tarnishing the Bellamy name with The Maids painting. Frankly, this latest business felt like just another day in the life of Sarah Moffat. Still, it’s not entirely out of character. Apart from Sarah being a bit of a butterfly and probably no stranger to dramatic exits, it could be argued that she also realised that this home isn’t the place of safety Rose believes it to be.

The shift in “power” in Sarah and Rose’s relationship continued right up to the end, and there was a fascinating final scene between them where Sarah made an impassioned speech about not wanting to wear second-hand clothes and be hidden in an attic, while Rose begged Sarah to stay because she’s her only true friend. Again, it was Rose’s response to this change which made it all the more fascinating.

I’m curious to know why Sarah was written out at this point. Was it by design, or did Pauline Collins want (or need) to leave? I do know she'd stepped into the role when co-creator Eileen Atkins became unavailable, and I dare say her own schedule was busy enough as well, so perhaps it was that. I have a feeling she’ll be back. Other characters such as Mrs Bridges and Hudson have appeared less frequently than I’d expect, with each having at least a couple of consecutive episodes away. Perhaps this is the case for Sarah as well, but she was better serviced with the writing.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Board Wages / The Path Of Duty / A Suitable Marriage / Magic Casements
continued​

The series has carried on quite nicely without Sarah for now. In addition to James, we’ve met his sister Elizabeth Bellamy. As the spirited daughter returning from her studies in Europe who challenges convention with her progressive thinking, she feels like the template for such Dynastic characters as Fallon Carrington, Amanda Carrington and even Kirby Anders. She’s also something of a character archetype for period dramas: the one whose views are widely accepted by the times in which their series airs, but seen as outrageous and provocative for the period in which said series is set. This gives sections of audience someone with whom they can relate or feel relaxed around (remember that the series was made when second wave feminism was everywhere), but also allow for some tongue in cheek comments when characters are shocked by the very notion of a woman being able to hold a conversation. Any anachronisms are explained away by the broad life experience and privileged education (and anything European says “worldly” even to Brits), and it all kind of works. As I said, she’s kind of an archetype now, but I’m not sure if Elizabeth was the first of her kind. Either way, she’s enjoyable to watch.

Of course, we all knew Elizabeth would have been better off with solid Laird Angus rather than cold, Teutonic Baron Klaus who is kind of a cross between Rolf Gruber and Peter De Vilbis. But since Elizabeth is only seventeen, knows next to nothing of the impending war and has almost certainly never watched either The Sound Of Music or Dynasty we can understand her naïveté.

The homosexuality was a most unexpected twist. And a double one at that since not only Klaus but series regular Alfred. Again, it’s something that seems pretty daring for 1971, even though I did literally blink as Rose walked in so I’m not quite clear how explicit the vision was (I suspect it was tastefully offscreen).

I’m not quite sure how to feel about the gay or bi characters being a cold, controlling, sociopathic traitor and a mentally unstable introvert, easily led down the wrong path, but it was 1971, the twist was an effective one and I’d take some very real drama over politically correct saccharine blandness any day.

Alfred’s departure, like Sarah’s, shows that there are very real repercussions for characters and those around them which affect the series in a very noticeable way. Between the end of the third and fifth episodes alone, two of the original series regulars have departed, and so nothing can be taken for granted.

Curiously, the storyline I’ve found most surprising and outrageous is the one that’s probably the most standard soap fare: Lady Marjorie falling for her son’s friend, half her age. I had vaguely envisioned Upstairs, Downstairs as being a little more twee and cosy, and so (even with what’s come before it), I fully expected a story about growing feelings of attraction between the two that could never be fulfilled.

Still reeling from the mild surprise of Marjorie going, unchaperoned, to Captain Charles Hammond’s room, I could not have been more surprised when that first kiss came. And I found myself surprised all over again when we cut back to the two of them in bed after some rumpy pumpy. Frankly, I’d have been less surprised if James had developed the crush on Charles (especially since I know dishy David Kernan best for his role as half of a same-sex couple in Carry On Abroad).

Again, I think the context of time helped. Not just this being the first decade of the Twentieth Century, but it also being filmed at a time when affairs were a relative rarity in British soaps (today, of course, it would be more surprising not to see illicit lovers in bed in any given episode). And there’s Lady Marjorie herself. Everything we’ve been told about her so far is that she values propriety and reputation above all else. She extols traditional, Conservative values and so is one of the least likely candidates to be in this position. And yet, through a 2022 prism, we know that those who espouse traditional, Conservative values most loudly are among the biggest hypocrites, so perhaps it’s not as out of character as we’d think. It’s just hidden better. This allows the series to have its cake and eat it.

The prose between Marjorie and Charles was distinctly - almost comically - purple at times. There were some very flowery exchanges and the performances were rather theatrical and melodramatic. It’s almost as though they were taking their cues from the likes of Coward plays (indeed, with Marjorie breathily sighing Charles’s name again and again, I kept thinking of Round The Horne’s regular Coward spoof, Charles and Fiona). Following that thought through, there’s a truth to that, since many people’s responses to moments of heightened drama could possibly be influenced by the dramas they’ve watched which are perhaps the only relatable kind of template for the situation.

Marjorie and Charles’s relationship felt very Dynasty Season One. He was almost like Steven Carrington to her Claudia Blaisdel, but the shared love of the arts and the poetry recitation also made him Ted Dinard to her Steven Carrington. While I’m at it, Marjorie’s speech to Charles about her reasons for ending their affair was like a preview of the one Karen Fairgate would give to David Crane for ending her (non-consummated) affair.

The resolution to the situation was really quite touching. Richard working out what was going on and dealing with it with a euphemistic speech about him doing what’s required in his political vote out of loyalty, because it’s what they treasure most felt note-perfect. For him to confront it head on would have felt wrong, and I’d been expecting it him to do the WASP thing of simply ignoring it, so what we got was best case scenario.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

In hindsight, perhaps I should have known. After all, if it had taken me so many years to watch it then maybe I never really wanted it to begin with.

I'm not saying it's not good and I'm sure there are parts in it I would enjoy, but the overall vibe I got from the "Christmassy" characters and drab sets (including the upstairs rooms) wasn't a very pleasant one.

It looks like we started from a very similar place but with very different outcomes. I really wasn't sure it was going to be for me, either, and I went on word of mouth recommendations and the series' reputation.

I suppose one difference could be how we mentally pictured the series before beginning. Not that I know for certain how you saw it, of course, but from my perspective I'd thought it might be more "Christmassy" than it is. And while I tried to keep expectations to a minimum, I did feel it would pull its punches more than it has.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series One
A Cry For Help
​

For one night only, we’re back in black and white, to fill in the gap with the missed episode on the out-of-sequence DVD.

Once again, the new under housemaid arrives with a baggage that spells trouble. This time it’s Mary Stokes who is in a delicate condition after her former employer’s son forced himself on her.

As with some other scenarios, the premise seems to me somewhat controversial for 1971, much less 1906. Like adultery, rape is a relatively common premise in soap these days, usually the sort of thing guaranteed to earn a soap award or two for research and angsty emoting. With this in mind, there are several things that are hugely refreshing about the manner in which Upstairs, Downstairs deals with it.

Most refreshing of all is that this story really isn’t about Mary. It’s not told from her perspective, but from those of the other staff and - most of all - Richard Bellamy. This is the episode in which we’ve spent more time with Richard than any other character. As a WASP, a person of breeding and an Edwardian male it was inevitable that Richard would be the biggest challenge for the audience (and perhaps the writers and actor). It’s the same syndrome with which George Bligh was affected. And any number of patriarchs not defined by square-jawed masculine “strength” come to that. From this story - and with his quiet nobility in the following episode fresh in my mind from watching out of sequence - emerges a character who is potentially more fascinating than any of the louder voices caught up in most of the dramas around him.

The treatment of Mary in this episode is - certainly by today’s standards - refreshingly unsympathetic a great deal of the time. Seeing her through the eyes of the others, it’s easy to understand why she’s seen as bothersome. She breaks the rules by sneaking out; she’s indiscrete with those above stairs (we know it’s a key rule that she shouldn’t even make eye contact with her masters, much less cry and wail and talk about her problems); she faints on the job. And she’s secretive. Even knowing the reasons behind it, there’s no denying that she’s a poor employee.

Something almost frustrating to watch as a viewer is that Mary feels quite defined by her victimhood. This is the only episode in which we’ve seen her, so we have no idea what kind of person she was before this situation. Despite Mary’s tears and hand-wringing, Susan Penhaligon (most recently appearing in O’Dramavision as Judi Dench’s sister in A Fine Romance and as herself on Give Us A Clue) plays her quietly and economically, leaving us to put the pieces together through the way others view her.

Through a 21st Century prism, her dependence on others to get her out of her situation grates a little because it seems to entrench the character further into victimhood. In today’s language, Mary appears to lack agency. The writing gets round this by reminding us without compromise of societal attitudes back then regarding illegitimacy and abortion.

Mary views the latter as an option - indeed, her reason for sneaking out of the house is to go to someone who can provide an abortion - but as far as others are concerned, this is not an option and for her to even consider it sullies her character further. “Don’t you realise you’d be committing murder?”, asks Hudson, his authority and sincerity making the question rhetorical. Devout Catholic Emily tells Mary she’d be committing a mortal sin. And while the moral question is a personal one that’s debated to this day, Hudson reminds Mary - and the audience - that abortion at this time was also a criminal act, leaving her with very little room to manoeuvre.

Regarding illegitimacy, the only acceptable Edwardian solution was marriage to the father who must face their responsibility. As the episode progresses, one begins to understand how a woman might even end up marrying their rapist due to societal pressures. It’s made clear that nobody would employ a pregnant servant, and Mary - an orphan - will have no way of supporting herself. As she bluntly points out, she and her baby will both starve.

The main thing that creates viewer empathy towards her is the lack of empathy she receives from others, particularly after Richard has offered his help leading to downstairs gossip about the two of them.

This is a decent episode for Patsy Smart as Roberts who is the first to start the gossip, the most vociferous in her condemnation (at one point she screams names in Mary’s face), and the only one of the staff who doesn’t appear to change her view even when appraised of the situation. Mary is called any number of names throughout the episode. Even Mrs Bridges’ expressions of pity towards her - “poor cow”, “poor little bitch” - feel rather derogatory.

As I said, though, this episode is really about Richard. More than perhaps any other TV episode, this one clearly shows how the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Richard’s offer to help is a sincere one. We believe him just as Mary does, and it’s clear he believes himself. He even meets the rapist - with whom he’s acquainted - and tries to get him to do The Right Thing. In the end, though, reputation is the biggest consideration, and a man in Richard’s position cannot be allowed to associate himself with this situation. Those around him will not allow it.

Raymond Huntley is terrific in his first episode as the voice of cruel reason, Sir Geoffrey Dillon. His face and voice are both very familiar to me, no doubt from his numerous British film appearances (I don’t associate him with any one role, however. Perhaps this series will change that). Incidentally, this also appears to be Christopher Beeny’s first episode as Barnes, though little is said about it (more seems to be made of his recent arrival in Magic Casements, leading to wonder if perhaps the episodes are in the right order after all). He hits the ground running with impersonations of his colleagues including Hudson, Mrs Bridges and Emily.

Under Sir Geoffrey’s advisement, Richard is forced to sack Mary and ask her to sign a document confirming that her story about the rapist was a lie (the speed with which she almost unflinchingly agrees to sign in order to clear Richard is as touching as anything in the episode). Like Mary, I was depending on Richard to stand his ground and right to the end, I expected something to happen to give Mary salvation. But it never came. It’s a brutal exercise in watching false hope come to nothing, and it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. Which makes it a really good episode in my eyes.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series One
I Dies From Love​

Without blinking we’ve gone from homosexuality to adultery to rape to suicide. UpDown is nothing if not consistently bold in its subject matter.

Emily is a character I’ve barely mentioned in commenting on the episodes to date. In short, my first impression in the first episode or two was of the series’ weakest link. Evin Crowley’s performance felt a bit broad and the weakest of the ensemble, and the character herself - the good Catholic girl -felt stereotypical.

As the episodes have gone by, Emily has grown on me. She’s felt almost peripheral as she hasn’t been very central, and that’s worked fine. It was still a little surprising to find that an episode with Emily in the spotlight was not only enjoyable but also touching and compelling.

The episode captures two things particularly well: Firstly there’s Emily’s profound sense of loneliness paired with naïveté that makes her clinginess - and the tragic episode ending - understandable to the viewer. Secondly, this episode exceeds the previous episode in showing the amount of control the wealthy homeowners can exert over every area of their servants’ lives - and this includes their personal lives. It feels particularly cruel that this degree of intrusion takes away Emily’s one glimmer of hope.

It also goes on to show that the servants are treated like second class citizens with no rights even in death, with poor Emily’s body being handled like an ugly piece of furniture one doesn’t want the neighbours to see leaving the house by daylight, and the undertakers feeling more like removal men, commenting knowingly how her body won’t be permitted to be buried on consecrated ground.

There’s an irony to the devout Irish Catholic character’s suicide, of course, but this also reinforces just how lonely, hurt and desperate she felt. I thought the way it was executed felt very much like classic Corrie (juxtaposing the celebratory staff singing on the departing omnibus with the discovery of Emily’s body and the news being told had echoes Minnie Caldwell’s death).

I really liked the absence of dialogue in certain scenes following Emily’s death. Most notably, there’s a scene where we see Rose tell Hudson, but they’re just outside the servants’ entrance while we stay inside the house, watching them in middle distance through a window. The subtle performances conveyed the emotion of the moment which felt more powerful than any words, as well as introducing the slightly unsettling feeling that we were looking in on an incredibly intimate scene. It’s one of my favourite spots of the episode.

At this point, Hudson is arguably the character with whom we’ve spent least time - or at least the character we know the least about. Gordon Jackson, however, can do wonders with very little. Once again, the emphatic way Hudson flatly tells the irreverent undertakers “God will forgive her” [Emily] leaves no room at all for doubt. If I wanted to be convinced of something beyond any doubt, I'd ask Gordon Jackson to tell me.

As far as her pretty young footman, I found it difficult to read whether he was, indeed, happy to drop Emily or was bowing purely to pressure from his employer. I suspect the truth is somewhere in the middle, but I like the obliqueness.

As nasty Mrs Van Groeben, I had thought that Yolande Turner didn’t sound very South African, but it turns out the actress was born there, so that’s me told. She’s got something of the Lindsay Wagner to her appearance, I think.

The episode’s big scene-stealer for me was Aimée Delamain as Lady Templeton: a winning combination of waspish, blunt and regal. This appears to be her one and only episode of UpDown, sadly. After this episode I had hopes she might become a recurring headache for Marjorie.

Emily’s death felt all the more pointless since, having spent so much time with her this episode, I discovered I really quite like her. But I love that this series is not afraid to shake things up with cast changes and permanent consequences for each story. It really feels as though anything can happen.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series One
Why Is Her Door Locked?​

In so many ways this looks and feels like a conventional story - certainly by the standards of dramatic television in the decades that would follow. There’s a kidnap; a breakdown; a courtroom drama; the revelation of a marriage proposal… Scratching the surface, though, there’s an awful lot that’s unconventional.

Firstly, it’s refreshing even today that the kidnapped child is brought into the key household rather than being taken away from it. Stopping the viewer feeling too complicit, the kidnapper is still othered, at least for the episode’s first act in which Mrs Bridges is behaving strangely and there’s gossip and tut-tutting in the household about her locked door (Marjorie crisply reminding Hudson that she doesn’t permit her staff to lock their doors is another little titbit which further drives home their lack of what most would consider very basic rights).

Not knowing where the story was going, and with Mrs Bridges’ erratic behaviour attributed to her grief over Emily’s suicide - still very much in the air as this episode opened - I wondered if the strange noises heard behind the door to Mrs Bridges’ room while she was downstairs were actually leading up to some kind of ghost story. Or some ghoulish setup where Marjorie had a swinging noose in her room as a guilty reminder of her failing. A baby didn’t cross my mind at all, and even once he was shown, I assumed there would be a simple explanation, such as her taking care of him for a relative or friend.

And this is where the series sets up its situations so well. I responded to the situation with the same kind of disbelief as the rest of the household. Mrs Bridges seems such an unlikely kidnapper, which is why this story works. The standards are either ruthless ransomers or a young, recently-bereaved mother. It’s only as the story opens out that it becomes clear that Mrs Bridges is to all intents and purposes a recently-bereaved mother, since she felt maternal towards Emily. Of course, she was the critical type of mother, and this is what she is coming to terms with. But under the surface is also the reminder that she doesn’t appear to have had a child of her own. Probably wisely, seeing how pregnant servants have fared, but still…

As well as Angela Baddeley, it’s terrific to see Gordon Jackson being given more to do as Hudson glides into court (it turns out he spends some of his spare time in the gallery observing cases out of fascination for the skill of the prosecutors) and calmly speaks to them of Mrs Bridges’ fine character before the quiet revelation that he’s proposed to her. Again, we learn something of importance in an unconventional way. I hadn’t noticed any hint of romance between them in previous episodes, so this is the first I knew of this angle to the relationship. And of course, that’s the point. Hudson is a pragmatist. He and Mrs Bridges are very practical people and this doesn’t appear to be a proposal based on romance, but on the simple fact that each recognises the need for companionship in their golden years. Perhaps this puts them on a better footing to marry than most.

The thing that really stood out to me in this episode was the Bellamys’ entitlement and concern with keeping up appearances. One of the funniest little moments of the series so far came when there was talk of the police being brought in which could lead to Mrs Bridges’ arrest, and Marjorie protested to Richard that this simply could not happen because she was due to give an important dinner party the following week and couldn’t possibly find another good cook in so short a time.

Likewise, the subterfuge involved when roping in Hudson to casually tap his police friend for information about the family of the kidnapped child in order to return him without notifying the police came very easily. Their visit to the Webbers to return their child, the Bellamys exuding wealth dressed in their finery and waving money around in the reasonably modest living room of the shell-shocked family. It was all about intimidation. We saw them through the eyes of this good, ordinary couple, and it wasn’t pretty.

But, of course, it’s all about the shades of grey. I don’t blame the Webbers for finding the Bellamys repugnant, but as we get to see them behind closed doors and get to know them a little better each week, I find myself liking them, and while I wouldn’t want to be a member of their staff, it’s clear that they care for their household as much as society allows and will go out of their way to look after them. It’s almost sweet.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series One
A Voice From The Past / The Swedish Tiger​

The return of Sarah is something I had a feeling was coming and looked forward to since she’d been such a key part of the opening three episodes. Having seen it, I’m on the fence as to whether or not her return is a good thing. And perhaps this is how I’m supposed to feel.

A Voice From The Past got things off to a nice start with Elizabeth roping James into reluctantly helping out at a soup kitchen into which stumbles Sarah, visibly unwell and coughing over everyone and yet trying to salvage some dignity by telling them she’s only there to meet an actress friend of hers.

The dynamic is a promisingly soapy one, with James having played a key role in driving Sarah away in the first place, and Elizabeth - having been away during Sarah’s tenure and being told only that Sarah is a former member of the household staff - feeling the only thing to do is take her back home, where Sarah’s presence further upsets things.

While less than four months’ “real"-time has elapsed according to the transmission dates, UpDown’s regular time jumps mean that it’s been over four years since Sarah walked out in search of a better life.

There are some nice touches, like Elizabeth deducing that the tension between Sarah and James is because they had a fling. In particular, this story also serves as a kind of closure for the story of Emily’s suicide which still looms over the household. Sarah’s previously-established interest in the paranormal is taken to another level with her now claiming to have assisted a powerful psychic who unlocked Sarah’s potential as a medium.

The speed with which most of the characters embrace the idea of a seance is slightly difficult to swallow. Mrs Bridges, of course, is in a vulnerable position and her grief makes her acquiescent to the idea in her search for hope and forgiveness, so perhaps this informs the responses of the others whose service roles are mostly subservient to that of Mrs Bridges.

As before, it’s the relationship between Sarah and Rose that is the driving force. While we’ve seen Sarah and Rose share intimacy before, this episode has almost overt suggestions of a lesbian relationship between them. There’s even a triangle, with Rose now sharing a bed with Sarah’s replacement Alice, dabbing some potion all over her top half to reduce her freckles. While Rose is initially frosty and dismissive, Sarah’s all come hither looks and sprawling on the bed and remembering good times. She even has a line saying that she bets Alice isn’t as good to cuddle up with because she’s a “frigid cold fish”, and Rose doesn’t disagree.

There’s a lot about the story that’s a bit too neat. Alice running out of the attic room forever right on cue for Sarah to hop into her bed and her role as the episode nears its end is awfully convenient. And, even when it’s apparent to at least some that she’d faked the seance, there’s no comment about the cruelty of Sarah’s imitation of Emily. Sarah herself seems to have crossed the line from mischievous to malicious. She mostly comes across as self-serving, calculating and unlikeable. It might be realistic that her time on the streets has hardened her, but it doesn’t make for a more watchable character.

There are those who are still to learn about Sarah’s return, what with Marjorie and Richard in Perthshire and some of the other characters joining them at different times. Roberts has been absent for some four episodes, and the latest episode seems to have written her out of the series entirely with Elizabeth commenting that there’s talk of her staying on in Perthshire permanently.

The “rotating” cast seems unusual to me. In a half hour soap opera like Corrie or Crossroads (to name two that would have been running contemporaneously with UpDown), it’s expected that this kind of rotation would happen. In any given episode, only perhaps half or two-thirds of the main cast will appear, while the others are “rested”. When a series runs several times a week for each week of the year, it’s the only way to give the cast their time off. In hour long series that run for thirteen episodes each year, however, I’m accustomed to a main cast member’s absence being the exception rather than the rule. In general, you can be guaranteed seeing each main cast member in each episode.

As I said, UpDown not doing this feels quite unusual. That’s not to say it doesn’t work, but I’m a little more aware of the absent faces. And never more so than in The Swedish Tiger, in which the vast majority of the main cast are absent.

Of the main ensemble, only four characters appear: Elizabeth, James, Sarah and Edward. The absence of older, more authoritative characters means that the series is missing a certain weight. But this is just the beginning of the many problems I had with this episode. Let me count the ways…

There are all these characters with strange accents who appear from nowhere, having apparently been established during the time jump. The story is extremely muddy and vague. Even after watching, I’m still not quite sure what happened, other than some kind of larceny plot involving jade figurines. It feels very much like a story intended for some anthology series that was shoehorned in here because of a writer’s strike or something.

Then there's the dialogue, which is appallingly stiff and pretentious, as though it’s intended to be Cowardesque, but with a complete lack of the requisite wit and finesse. Once again, the younger actors lack the presence and gravitas to overcome this.

I can say without question this is the worst episode of the series yet. Had it been one of the earliest I’d have joined @Thrillie Trolleson and abandoned ship.

It’s still relatively early days, and I haven’t yet watched 20% of the series, so here’s hoping it recovers what I’ve so enjoyed up until the last episode or so.

 

[James from London]

The “rotating” cast seems unusual to me. In a half hour soap opera like Corrie or Crossroads (to name two that would have been running contemporaneously with UpDown), it’s expected that this kind of rotation would happen. In any given episode, only perhaps half or two-thirds of the main cast will appear, while the others are “rested”. When a series runs several times a week for each week of the year, it’s the only way to give the cast their time off. In hour long series that run for thirteen episodes each year, however, I’m accustomed to a main cast member’s absence being the exception rather than the rule. In general, you can be guaranteed seeing each main cast member in each episode.

Yeah, it's an unusual structure, isn't it? The Crown reminds me a lot of UpDown in that regard, along with the time jumps between eps. I guess the main advantage is that you get to focus in that much more closely on the characters relevant to that particular story.

I can say without question this is the worst episode of the series yet. Had it been one of the earliest I’d have joined @Thrillie Trolleson and abandoned ship.

I can't remember much about the plot of The Swedish Tiger, but it's infamous within UpDown circles as, to put it kindly, something of an anomaly:

https://twitter.com/i/web/status/1548414914787545090

https://twitter.com/i/web/status/1257745611388043267

https://twitter.com/i/web/status/483673035430723584

 

[Mel O'Drama]

The Crown reminds me a lot of UpDown in that regard, along with the time jumps between eps.

I can imagine so. The Crown has yet to make it onto my viewing schedule, but I have been intrigued by some of the events covered (the Aberfan episode is one that actually made me seek out clips) and recasts to reflect ageing over the decades.

I guess the main advantage is that you get to focus in that much more closely on the characters relevant to that particular story.

Absolutely. In some ways it feels more honest than having every character present and trying to find a way to fit them all in.

I can't remember much about the plot of The Swedish Tiger, but it's infamous within UpDown circles as, to put it kindly, something of an anomaly

Oh - those quotes made me appreciate it a little more. There's nothing like a little notoriety to add a certain appeal and I love that it provides a frame of reference and shorthand - even in contemporary times - for a particular kind of weirdness. It could be period dramas very own "jump the shark".

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series One
The Key Of The Door / For Love Of Love


​

As Series One closes, we’re mercifully back on form.

These two episodes have been Elizabeth-heavy, and I’m fine with that since I find her watchable enough.

Better yet, most of the ensemble are back. Hudson, Mrs Bridges, Marjorie and Richard arrived back in time to tut-tut disapprovingly at Elizabeth’s bohemian friends, treating their lounge as a music call and dancing on their no doubt priceless furniture. All of which caused Elizabeth to leave the house.

Elizabeth’s combination of intelligence and naïveté is fascinating. She’s been taken in and taken advantage of by those who scorn her background and have enjoyed making a mockery of her. And yet from it she’s found a kind of calling and life with meaning. She’s now enmeshed with charismatic poet Lawrence Kirkbridge played by the dishy Ian Ogilvy - one of my very favourite semi-regular players in my concurrently-watched Give Us A Clue.

Enmeshed is actually understating it rather. They tied the knot in the final episode of the series, which came as a surprise to this viewer since it seemed to cut almost directly from Elizabeth telling her family she didn’t believe in nor want marriage to Elizabeth in her wedding finery.

The elder Bellamys are relieved their daughter is not on the shelf, with Marjorie recently fretting over Elizabeth’s lack of a suitor with time marching on. Even though Lawrence initially appeared below her station, it turns out he has an uncle who is an MP for North Bristol so there are sighs of relief.

A relationship likely to get far less approval is that between James and Sarah - former under housemaid, now music hall darling and actress, who is brassier than ever.

Tying the two together musically: Elizabeth walks up the aisle to a churchified version of the series’ main theme, The Edwardians, while Sarah performs What Are We Gonna Do With Uncle Arthur?, which puts lyrics to the closing theme tune. It’s clear that Pauline Collins isn’t a singer, but then music hall is all about gusto and ballsiness: two qualities she has in abundance. And so it’s convincing.

At almost 20% through the series, I’m looking forward to seeing what changes Series Two brings.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

It's a rare treat for a Network set of an old series to come with so much bonus material: audio commentaries, chat show appearances and a comprehensive documentary giving an in-depth history on-and-off-screen.

I had planned to watch all five parts of The Story Of Upstairs, Downstairs at the end of the entire series. In the end, though, I feared five hours' worth of documentary back-to-back might give me burnout so it just felt right to watch each part as presented: at the end of its relevant series. Having watched Part One, I think this is a good move, since it featured background and reflections on each of the thirteen episodes from the first year and it's good to view it when they're still fresh in my mind.

A good number of the actors appeared. Jean Marsh, of course, spoke about the creation of the series (and she says she still has no idea what The Swedish Tiger was about). Simon Williams, Nicola Pagett, George Innes (Alfred) and Evin Crowley all speak about their characters' various ups and downs this year, with Simon saying his first episode is the one he'd most like to re-shoot.

If anything, the writers proved even more interesting, from Fay Weldon on that very first script to Terence Brady and Charlotte Bingham's fury over having the rhythms of their script changed leading to Brady being removed from the room to stop him punching the director (which he admits he badly wanted to do).

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
The New Man​

And not just a new man. There are new opening titles. A new kitchen maid, Ruby. And - most startling of all - a new household with a complete new set of staff.

The spinoff-within-the-series has Rose “on loan” to newlyweds Elizabeth and Lawrence, with them getting off the ground in setting up the new place. In some ways it hits some similar notes to the first episode of Series One as we become familiarised with the new place though the eyes of those onscreen.

This time, though, it doesn’t feel as though there’s a single protagonist who shares our view, as Sarah did before. This is primarily Elizabeth’s story, but we meet many of the new characters through Rose’s eyes, though we are also privy to Elizabeth interviewing The New Man of the title: Thomas Watkins.

John Alderton must be one of those actors who is pretty good at accents. I last watched him in Calendar Girls where his North Yorkshire accent impressed me. In UpDown his South Walian accent is also rather decent, and seems to be fairly narrowed down to Torfaen/Rhondda Valley/Monmouthshire. This being the early Seventies, I’m sure Tom Jones would have been an influence.

Alderton would have been fresh off Please Sir! at this point, so very much a known actor. Of course, I can’t help wondering if Pauline Collins’ presence in the series was a factor in his casting. They seem to do a lot of series together which, as someone whose work and home lives have always been nicely, neatly compartmentalised, I’ve never really understood, but they’re still married after over five decades so something’s working.

Elizabeth and Lawrence’s marriage, on the other hand, feels doomed to fail. Watching their little spinoff feels rather like Lucy and Mitch in their condo on Dallas, though the dynamic actually has far more in common with that of Olivia and Harold over on Knots, with Elizabeth newly emancipated and learning to budget on her dowry while Lawrence enjoys the good life at his wife’s expense. Already he’s out all night, leaving poor Elizabeth to take her frustrations out on the frisky servants (Rose enjoying randy Thomas's game of kiss-catch as much as she did seems rather out of character, by the way).

From what I understand, Series Two is going to be rather compressed in terms of the time covered (in order to keep it within the Edwardian era). This is a shame, as I’ve enjoyed and become rather used to the little time lapses. But I’m curious to see how the series works as a more conventional weekly visit.