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

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
A Pair Of Exiles​

For the first time since some point before The Swedish Tiger rudely shook my confidence, an UpDown episode has proved exciting and riveting. The fact that it’s a Sarah-centric episode made this feat even more unexpected given how I’d found it difficult to get on board with the more mercenary Sarah of late Series One, but it feels wholly appropriate considering she’s one of the characters who helped me invest in the series in the first place.

I’d took the title A Pair Of Exiles to describe the status of Sarah and James at the beginning of said episode, what with their hidden and forbidden dalliances. It’s only this morning as I remind myself of the episode title that I’ve properly realised that it’s almost spoiler-ish in telling us exactly where both will be by episode’s end, without the shadow of a doubt.

Mercenary Sarah is present here, up to a point. At least, she might be. Her motives are tantalisingly oblique much of the time. We see many different sides to her, some of which appear to be the vulnerable and frightened waif we saw more of near the beginning of the series, but in the most human way possible, those facets change as she shows different parts of herself to different people. Initially she’s the mouthy good time girl, drunkenly belting out music hall tunes with James in her flat in the early hours while bellowing at the woman upstairs to stop banging on the floor. But it quickly changes.

As she tells James she’s with child and begs him not to be angry, she appears vulnerable. Likewise, when she confides her condition to Rose and asks for her advice, she is most childlike. Even at episode’s end, she explicitly tells Rose she’s frightened.

There’s the question of if she genuinely loves James or is using him for his family name, as part of a game plan to gain status and wealth (in other words, to be adored and welcomed into powerful circles and be given the 1909 equivalents of Oprah interviews and Netflix deals). This is never confirmed to us, the viewer. There is no soliloquy or satisfied smirk or any of the things we’re used to seeing that tells us in black and white she is “good” or “bad”. Instead we’re left to work her out based on what she presents to those around her, and it drives home that the truth is probably somewhere in between the two.

Helping this episode fire on all cylinders is one of the most complete main cast ensembles for many an episode (even in the wedding episode, Mrs Bridges was conspicuous by her absence). Better yet, it feels that everyone’s role in or responses to the drama helps drive the story forwards.

Downstairs, there’s much gossip as everyone puts the pieces together. There’s the mealtime tension during James’s visit, with Edward pointing out that he thought he’d heard James use a split infinitive and Hudson gravely admitting, pain etched on his face, that the young master and former Etonian had indeed split his infinitive in the breakfast room.

Rose has a letter from Sarah waiting for her when she visits the staff hall. Naturally, everyone is present when she opens it. “That girl!” utters Mrs Bridges furiously, her voice crackling like Evil Edna, before she goes into a shopping list of suspicions about what Sarah could be up to, each pf them jeopardising the Bellamys’ good name. When asked if she’ll pay a visit, Rose quietly says she may, but she may not. But then we cut to her arriving at Sarah’s place immediately upon leaving Eaton Place, leaving us in no doubt that she’s as fond of Sarah as ever.

Once again, we see Sarah present her vulnerability while not being 100% clear on her motive. Rose angrily says that James must marry Sarah, with the whole business threatening to come out into the open. Sarah says that Rose must keep her confidence and not tell anyone, but there is still the possibility that Sarah had anticipated this reaction and is counting on Rose to react exactly the way she has.

Around two-thirds of the way into the episode comes a moment I found genuinely exciting and almost unexpected. Hudson flatly tells the staff that they have visitors, but warns them it is none of their business and he does not intend to tell them any more than this. Through the downstairs entrance, into he staff hall walks Rose, followed by Sarah, elegantly dressed and carrying a suitcase. It’s a scene that puts the cat well and truly amongst the pigeons and gave me little butterflies of excitement about what was to come.

There follows some awkward small talk, and each response seems to implicitly cast further light on the situation. Mrs Bridges pointedly comments that Sarah doesn’t seem to have as much to say as she did when she was a staff member. Sarah replies she’s feeling “a bit dicky”. Cut to Mrs Bridges, taking in the significance. When Sarah’s acting career comes up, she says she’s in demand but “resting”. Cut to Mrs Bridges, suspicions confirmed.

There’s also a nice bit of business between Hudson and Sarah as he takes her to the Bellamys and she recalls their conversation as they walked the same route back in On Trial when he reminded her he was her better because he had learnt humility and she hadn’t. As he crisply points out, it’s a pity that she still hasn’t. A point she revels in proving by insisting he announces her to the Bellamys as Clémence Delice. Naturally, he refuses.

continued...​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

A Pair Of Exiles
continued​

Upstairs is equally exciting. Richard and Marjorie are generously featured in this episode - always a good thing. First they, too, piece things together based on James’s mounting debts and frequent absences from his base (they’re nothing if not well-connected). James eventually comes clean about his relationship with a girl and the trouble they’re in. She’s “someone you know”, he ventures. Marjorie’s horror at the idea she might be the daughter of friends of theirs is nothing compared with the shock she displays when he expands by saying she used to work for them, a former under housemaid. Marjorie quietly says Sarah’s name, but this time there’s at least as much sorrow as horror. Perhaps even pity.

I’d say this is my favourite Marjorie episode to date. Rachel Gurney is wonderful, and the writing does the character real justice. She’s forthright and assertive, yet not in a way that feels anachronistic or at odds with what we know about Marjorie. Despite Richard’s insistence that these are conversations for men to have, not for women’s ears, Marjorie twice refuses to remove herself from the room: firstly when James’s Colonel visits to express his concerns, then again when Sir Geoffrey Dillon sweeps in to clean things up with his usual icy flair.

Perfectly in keeping with their need to keep up appearances, by the time Colonel Winter enters the room, Richard and Marjorie are one unit, warmly greeting him with no sign of tension. Sir Geoffrey, however, tests Marjorie’s good graces.

It’s wonderful to see him back. Unplanned pregnancies for unwed mothers with ties to the Bellamys seem to be his speciality. We last saw him at the end of his first appearance, coldly sending poor Mary Stokes off to her fate. Sarah - being exiled to a cottage on the Southwell estate where she will give birth and remain in service when she is well enough - ostensibly gets a better deal than Mary, though it could also be argued that Mary at least had a chance to make her own future choices while Sarah is now effectively trapped in service to the Bellamys. Naturally, Sir Geoffrey also takes the opportunity to remind Sarah of her place: her time spent service, and the fact that “the theatrical profession is not generally considered respectable” (being such a blank slate and with everything we see pointing to him being brutal, passionless and an intellectual bully, Sir Geoffrey could be a contender for an all-time favourite UpDown character. Part of me hopes we don’t find out too much about him).

Marjorie is positively serene during this exchange. When Sir Geoffrey’s crisply matter of fact presentation of Sarah’s future, and Richard telling Sarah it’s for her own good provoke her into an outburst, it’s Marjorie who resolves the situation by speaking slowly and calmly to Sarah until she sits and listens once more. Once Sarah has left the room, it’s Sir Geoffrey’s coup de grace - James’s relocation to a regiment in India - that pushes Marjorie into an outburst:

Have you gone out of your mind, Sir Geoffrey. This is quite unthinkable… I would remind you you are employed by my father as his solicitor. Your duties do not include telling me how to behave in my own house… This is the most outrageous and underhand conspiracy I’ve ever seen. I refuse to agree to it… I want it made absolutely clear, Sir Geoffrey, that I forbid you to proceed further with these arrangements till I have discussed them with my father.

Lady Marjorie, I ought to point out that it was your father who consulted the Viceroy concerning the choice of regiment for your son.

The upper hand his, as always, Sir Geoffrey departs with Richard’s apologies for her discourteousness. Sir Geoffrey brushes off any such concern by describing her (perfectly) as “a lioness protecting her young” who “is entitled to show her claws”.

By the time Richard returns to the room, Marjorie has calmed down enough to say she’s sorry, the shame of her loss of face clearly weighing heavily. He accepts and order is restored, the men having made the decisions; the women, the young and the servants having no choice but to accept.

By episode’s end, things are quite different in the staff hall. Hudson swears them to secrecy for the sake of the Bellamy name. Mrs Bridges cries over Sarah’s situation. And Sarah leaves, beaten down into line. And this time with no room for doubt that the fear she admits to is very real.

It’s a corker of an episode.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
Married Love​

I do appreciate the era-appropriate language used in this series. Just as the word “pregnancy” is never uttered in Exiles, neither is the word “sex” used once during Married Love. Yet this is exactly what this episode is about.

Through euphemistic discussion between Lawrence and Elizabeth, we learn their relationship hasn’t been consummated, meaning, in Elizabeth’s eyes at least, they aren’t yet married.

Typically, the episode unfolds slowly before our eyes, fascinating in the process. The turn of the century restraint is unwilling to tell us exactly what Lawrence’s problem is, leaving us to try and put the pieces together and taking us down trails that would appear to lead in one direction before there’s a divergence.

To Twenty First Century eyes, there’s initially a homoerotic undertone to the relationship between Lawrence and his confidante and publisher, Sir Edwin Partridge who calls him “my dear”, is occasionally tactile and who claims through pursed lips to fully understand Lawrence’s position having had “a feeling” he wasn’t “the kind” who should be married. Sir Edwin is most definitely a predator, his overly confident aura, the patience with which he works on his subject and the agenda behind his icy blue eyes almost unmistakable to any twink who has been sexually harassed in a gay bar. Almost.

He listens with interest to Lawrence describing his distaste at the idea of physical intimacy with his new wife. Then, as Lawrence reaches the crux of the matter - his reason for discussing it - Sir Edwin leans forward in anticipation…

It’s here I realise I’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. But Sir Edwin hasn’t. He even finishes Lawrence’s sentence as the younger man asks his publisher to satisfy his wife.

I must confess to finding this whole premise more shocking and salacious than the closeted gay affair I thought was brewing. What makes it so is the very idea that Elizabeth has no idea that Lawrence is arranging for her to lose her virginity to this older predator.

And there’s no testing the water to see if it’s something Elizabeth would want. On the night of the soiree, the two men ensure Elizabeth’s glass is constantly topped up with alcohol before engineering a situation where they go to view a piece of porcelain in the bedroom, with Lawrence retreating as Sir Edwin moves in for the kill.

In essence, Lawrence has arranged for his wife to be raped, doing all he can to facilitate the process. It’s all dressed up with good intentions and social niceties, but the facts make this uncomfortably brutal.

It’s a cracking example of eras colliding in the most powerful way. I’m watching this for the first time in an era where there is little doubt that a crime was committed and were this to air for the first time today, an audience would cry out for justice, or for all concerned to be “cancelled”. But because it takes place at the turn of the Twentieth Century via the prism of 1972 there’s likely to be a very different outlook indeed.

As of the end of this episode, it’s still unclear what the reactions of the characters and the stance of the writing will be relating to this story. I’m extremely curious to see where both of these take us next.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
Whom God Hath Joined… / Guest Of Honour / The Property Of A Lady​

While each of these three stories is fairly self-contained - not least the series’ apparently most oft-repeated episode, Guest Of Honour - each also serves as a continuation of a different previous story. And each takes a different approach to doing this.

Whom God Hath Joined… continues its main storyline in a way that today feels the most conventionally serialised manner but by, the standards of UpDown, is a relative novelty: it overtly continues the story told in the previous episode*.

I’m not sure if it’s just because it’s fresh in my mind, but Elizabeth and Lawrence’s story feels like the most serialised story of the entire series, featuring prominently in five of the six episodes beginning with The Key Of The Door. It’s certainly compelling and twisty enough to warrant the screen-time; in fact it feels as though its potential has only just begun to be mined.

Whom God Hath Joined… draws something of a line in the sand with the story (as evident by the fact that neither Elizabeth nor Lawrence has appeared in the following episodes, necessarily “rested” to give other storylines some breathing room). It closes this chapter in a blaze of glory, with every sordid detail of the marriage, Lawrence’s lack of sexual interest in Elizabeth and Elizabeth’s impregnation by Sir Edwin (oh yes - she’s three months gone at this stage. Things certainly move quickly in this series).

Naturally, it’s fascinating to see the Edwardian attitudes towards ending a marriage. Despite the family’s high profile, I suspect Elizabeth might be in a far stronger position to rebound from the situation than someone of lower social status at this time. Nonetheless, the episode makes it very clear that neither she nor Lawrence will be able to proceed with even an annulment without volunteering some highly personal details and subjecting themselves to unpleasant physical examinations.

The episode also sees something of a restoration of normal service, with both Elizabeth and Rose returning to Eaton Place and Lawrence given the full Sir Geoffrey treatment, thus ushering him off overseas and cancelling rapey spinoff UpDown II: The Kirbridges.

Pleasingly, the evolution of their characters from experiences garnered during their time in Greenwich is very evident. While both are welcomed back, both women feel stronger, a little more worldly and - as a result - a little more cynical. Due to current circumstances, Elizabeth is angry. There are outbursts in raised voices and she is far more open about her troubles than she might have been a short time ago (one of these outbursts, at the dinner table in front of three of the staff, prompts Marjorie to remind her daughter not to discuss such matters in front of the domestic staff. In an attempt at discretion Marjorie conveys the message in French, which is a nice touch, even if it’s very clear what she’s saying and - as Elizabeth responds in French - rather too late anyway).

Downstairs, Rose seems less timid than the woman who left Eaton Place. There’s some enjoyable sparring between she and Roberts as Rose points out that she, too, has now been a Lady’s Maid, with Roberts reminding her than real Lady’s Maid’s wouldn’t do such lowly tasks as dusting.

Roberts has been AWOL since the middle of Series One, with her absence mostly ignored apart from a couple of throwaway comments (most notably her prolonged stay in Perthshire). The most recent of these comments felt rather inadequate when her absence was explained by Mrs Bridges saying that Tuesdays were Roberts’ day off (perhaps implying that a lot of our visits to the household have taken place on a Tuesday). It’s great to see her back. With the series’ edges arguably softening since the earliest episodes, Roberts’ brittle, spiky character and her permanently downturned thin lips are an especially welcome touch.

It’s especially pleasing that Roberts was present for what is evidently one of the series’ better remembered episodes: Guest Of Honour. I’m sure I read somewhere that this episode has been transmitted on television more than any other and watching it makes it clear why. Barring Elizabeth and James, the cast is all present and correct and there are an abundant array of guest characters, including some returnees. There’s a true sense of event and it’s appropriately vibrant.

continued....​

* Apropos of nothing, I watched Whom God Hath Joined… on the fiftieth anniversary of the transmission of the previous story, Married Love. Not that it means much, but since it will be the only significant anniversary for the series to take place during my watch it bears at least a passing mention.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Whom God Hath Joined… / Guest Of Honour / The Property Of A Lady
continued​

Sarah’s dramatic return was the icing on the cake. I’m really not sure how to feel about her return (even though I sort of knew it was on the cards). It’s added a nice frisson of drama and gone some way towards further resuming the early episodes’ status quo with Sarah ending up downstairs. Considering how dramatic, significant and permanent her departure from Eaton Place seemed it clearly took a hide like an elephant’s for her to come back, and that’s right in character. But I was surprised with how warm the reception was, and how easily she’s got things back where she wants them. Of course, it’s difficult to be cruel to a heavily pregnant woman and it’s quite possible this figured into her thinking. I quite enjoy that I never quite know whether or not what she says can be trusted.

This is also the case for Thomas - even more so since he’s less of a known quantity. John Alderton has a lot going on behind the eyes that shows something underneath Thomas’s humble, eager-to-please Welsh boy bit. There’s a sense that he’s acutely aware of how things work and he’s never been backwards in coming forwards if he can get himself noticed. It feels as though Thomas has an end game, one that goes back to his very first episode where he dropped by Eaton Place and ingratiated himself with one and all - except Hudson - having done the same with Elizabeth, Lawrence and Sarah over in Greenwich.

Thomas’s foot in the two main households, his keen eye, natural curiosity and opportunism have made him as central to the plot as he has made himself to his various masters. He’s cultivated relationships carefully, presenting himself as exactly what he needs to be in each moment.

It’s clear John Alderton is considered a more important actor than Brian Osborne, with poor old Pearce dispensed with in a line or two of dialogue about him going off to be a groom at stables, not comfortable with the motor cars the Bellamys have acquired. It was Thomas who pushed the idea of a car onto Elizabeth and Lawrence, which possibly prompted the Bellamys acquisition of their new Renault (which in turn has since been replaced by Thomas’s preferred status symbol of the Rolls Royce), which means that Thomas has had a hand in Pearce leaving. I wish a little more had been made of this to give Pearce a dramatic departure story, but perhaps Thomas is one of those characters who, like Sarah works best when his motives are a little oblique.

One of the strongest little moments for him came with what is essentially his Judas moment in Whom God Hath Joined… After Elizabeth, Rose and Mrs Fellowes have departed Greenwich (poor Mrs Fellowes also done away with in a throwaway line of dialogue), Lawrence returns home drunk to find Thomas and confides in him, thanking him for his loyalty and asking Thomas to promise he won’t leave him, which Thomas duly does: only to almost immediately accept a position at Eaton Place. What’s most interesting is that Thomas leaving him wreaks far more emotional impact on Lawrence than his marriage ending. It’s plain he feels extremely betrayed and it’s easy to see why. It’s uncomfortable to watch and is perhaps very telling about the dark side of Thomas’s ambition.

There’s also been some friction between Thomas and Hudson, primarily caused by a misunderstanding where Hudson believed Thomas to be the cause of Rose’s tears (in actual fact it was Elizabeth who was the cause, having verbally laid into Rose over her lack of experience with men in a moment of extreme post-marital bitterness). This almost led to him not being engaged at No. 165 at all, but the groundwork he’d carefully laid to ensure he was liked by such key players as Rose and Mrs Bridges ensured his ambition was realised.

Thomas and Sarah, then, are two peas in a pod. It was probably inevitable they’d click with one another, but I was surprised just how quickly it happened. By the very episode after Sarah has returned and miscarried, she and Thomas are thick as thieves, romancing one another and scheming together.

While the scheme in The Property Of A Lady showed them working together to turn the tables on someone blackmailing the Bellamys (with letters Marjorie had sent to Captain Hammond from Magic Casements), it’s interesting to see that it’s Sarah who is pricked by conscience and persuades Thomas not to screw over Marjorie and Richard (acting as a go-between for the blackmailer, Thomas had gone to each of them individually for the ransom sum, knowing neither would tell the other. He also doubled the needed cost in the process to line his own pockets four times over).

There are some genuinely funny moments in The Property Of A Lady, mostly from Pauline Collins doing that posh imitation where she speaks out of the side of her mouth. Collins playing Sarah playing Lady Marjorie for a liaison with the blackmailer is a riot. There’s a moment where, in character, she turns away from the blackmailer towards Thomas and pulls a funny face before returning to her posh voice. It’s almost overkill, but it’s so funny I wouldn’t not have it there.

Since I’m aware of the later spin-off, I suspect this episode could give a flavour of what was to come there as far as Thomas and Sarah’s wacky antics goes.

Funny voices and faces aside, though, I found the episode extremely plodding. Something about the execution didn’t work for me and this felt like a filler episode. Perhaps it’s telling that the original writer, Peter Wildeblood insisted his name was removed after his script was heavily re-written by Alfred Shaughnessy. I feel doubtful the latter improved upon the intended version.

There’s also the question of whether or not Magic Casements needs a sequel. As I liked the “unspoken” aspect of the original, with Richard concealing his knowledge from Marjorie but reaching her in his own way, I’m inclined to think not. This felt as though it diluted the story original story a little, by association with this far less watchable revisit. It seems even less necessary since Captain Hammond was said to have been killed in battle anyway.

Presumably due to the time lapses, it’s interesting to see Whom God Hath Joined… with its Christmas backdrop actually aired in early November, with numerous episodes still to air throughout November and December. Of course, the seasons weren't going to match up with real life in 1972 since we jump months at a time between episodes. Still, it would probably be unthinkable today to have an episode airing near Christmas that wasn't festive in some way, so I'm curious to see what comes along when we hit that point in Series Two.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
Your Obedient Servant​

How far we have come, you and I. These are good times, are they not, when a man can be what he makes himself and not what he was born.

Since I’m finding it difficult to begin to comment on this episode, this quote - spoken to a guilty Hudson, posturing in a hired top hat and suit while implying heavily that he is an important society figure in a bid to impress his successful brother - summarises the episode’s premise perfectly.

The key reason the comments aren’t coming easily is exactly what makes this a cracking episode: the episode’s statement is incredibly still and nuanced. This is what one would expect in an episode putting its two most stiff and conservative characters in the spotlight, exploring and testing their quietly respectful relationship with one another through their respective relationships with their visiting brothers.

Sibling relationships being invariably complex, either of the brothers’ visits could have been the basis of an episode by itself. Weaving them both together as is done here enriches the complexity.

There’s borderline irony in Hudson and Richard having opposite fraternal problems: Hudson feels inadequate compared with his successful, world-renowned structural engineer brother Donald (a kind of latter day Isambard Kingdom Brunel) who has married well and has the family, the jet-setting life and the acclaim.

Meanwhile, Richard’s brother Arthur arrives criticising everything from Richard’s inadequate staff to his new electric doorbell (the episode’s significant technological leap forward). Every sentence is coated with bile at Richard’s perceived grandiosity, and it seems he’s there to bring him down to size, having heard about the indiscretions of James and Sarah and Elizabeth’s failed marriage. He even fires a couple of shells at Richard and Marjorie’s marriage.

While Donald Hudson is likeable, Arthur Bellamy is rather more on the nose. He’s larger than life, rather Dickensian and almost a caricature. But he’s great fun. John Nettleton has made a career out of playing pompous windbags - usually titled officers, judges and MPs - and it’s easy to see why. In fact, the satisfaction of seeing Richard condemn his brother’s cruelty at episode’s end is slightly undermined by the thought that their relationship appears to be over, as he’s someone I’d have enjoyed watching on a recurring or even regular basis.

Tellingly, the catalyst for Richard to finally speak his mind is when Arthur’s cruelty affects Hudson. Arthur had arranged for he and Richard to take luncheon at the same venue where he knows Hudson will be trying to impress his own brother. It’s another one of those terrific moments for Richard where he does what he can to smooth over the situation and even (in modern parlance) enables Hudson by implying their social standing is on a more equal footing (“Sit down, man”, he quietly directs Hudson who stands - again - as Richard leaves the table).

The final scene between Hudson and Richard - both their brothers having departed under very different circumstances - is a powerful one. Hudson, fully believing he has lost Richard’s respect and is to be sacked with no hope of a reference, misinterprets his master’s compassionate “business as usual” conduct and polite interest in his brother as a cruel game:

This is not worthy of you. I am a servant, but I’m also a man. I’m humiliated enough, sir. I’ve brought disgrace upon you, upon… upon myself. I’m wounded and… and you’re twisting the knife in the wound.

Hudson?

I will pack my things and leave at once, sir. You won’t wish me to work out my notice.

With Hudson’s shameful-but-dignified anger and Richard’s genuine surprise at his reaction, it’s a wonderful scene for both Gordon Jackson and David Langton, that goes on to both characters reaching an understanding. In addition to its power, it’s a scene I found surprisingly beautiful.

Here are two of the series’ most consistently watchable performers whose characters’ natures mean that they are frequently required to underplay and react to the dramas and dysfunction that go on around them. I always appreciate either of these actors being given meatier material, and for them to work together on such an arc as this episode’s make this episode one that is a standout for me, perhaps more so because I suspect it might be one of the series’ underrated gems.

In addition to this, there’s perhaps as much depth as we’ve seen to Roberts as she muses to Mrs Bridges - but as much to herself - about the household in general that segues into some of her own backstory, including an allusion to her father finding her with a boy and consequently putting her into service.

We’re also given a couple of lovely scenes between Hudson and Mrs Bridges (here, alone, we find them calling one another “Angus” and “Kate” which feels very strange. Is this the first episode in which we’ve learnt their names?). In the first, she loans him a great deal of money in good faith, even though he won’t tell her why it’s needed (she insists she won’t ask questions, then immediately asks if it’s because he owes money on the horses). Just before Hudson and Richard’s final scene, now appraised of the situation and recognising he is likely to be ignominiously sacked, she supports him and tells him how much she’ll miss him. This really helps to “sell” the final conversation between Hudson and his employer because we understand his state of mind.

One moment in the episode actually gave me chills and made my skin move. It’s a moment where Hudson, alone, has just spoken to Mrs Bridges and goes upstairs to what he believes will be the end of his career. He comes from the servants’ hall into the upstairs entrance hall in a close up. Then he stops in his tracks and looks reflectively around. As he does so, the camera pulls out into a long shot of him, alone in the hall. After a few moments, he walks up to the door of the breakfast room and enters. It’s a short scene - around twenty seconds - with no dialogue at all, but something about it epitomises Hudson’s place in the series. Just thinking about it fifteen hours on I feel my tummy move.

Given the strength of the series’ very first episode, it’s a little surprising to consider that this episode marks the first time Fay Weldon has written for the series since then. I hope she won’t leave it so long before the next time.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
Out Of The Everywhere / An Object Of Value / A Special Mischief
​

The family nanny is none other than Richard DeVere’s mum from To The Manor Born. Not that I recognised her at the time, with this nasty old battle-axe being a million miles from loveable old Mrs Poo.

With Nanny Webster having nursed several generations of Bellamys in the same strict, overly structured Victorian style, the sense of reverence towards her comes across strongly and, with her having played a key role in their formative years, there’s a hint of duality to her relationships with Marjorie and Elizabeth. This makes Marjorie’s act of diplomacy in sending away the now frail and dangerously doddery woman - with all the charm and grace you’d expect - seem an even more impressive feat.

Sarah was initially to be looking after baby Lucy but not so thrilled at finding out she’s there to iron dresses and clean nappies, with Nanny getting all the baby time. Dealing with the aftermath of something that seemed neatly boxed away was done very nicely in this same episode.

Through Twenty First Century (and no doubt mid to late Twentieth Century) eyes, it’s impossible to forget that Sarah is a recently-bereaved mother and the situation is going to be - as an overused contemporary expression has it - triggering. This is not something particularly considered by those onscreen, though. Not until Elizabeth snaps at Sarah that she couldn’t possibly understand how she feels, and Sarah calmly points out that yes: she does. It’s a thread that runs throughout the entire episode, reminding characters of a history they thought was neatly boxed away and the viewer that there is a continuity. It just manifests a little differently given the age in which this series takes place.

It’s been a nice couple of episodes for Sarah all round and, at this point, I feel we’ve got back the Sarah we knew in those opening three episodes: the endearing, wide-eyed, cheeky chancer. And yet with some growth through her experiences. The middle episode of these three sees Sarah once again show her conscience and her respect for the Bellamys when Thomas pushes the boundaries. Here he convinces her to steal a bottle of wine from the cellar, casting doubt in the minds of characters and viewer both when a valuable brooch goes missing just as Thomas is planning to leave the Bellamys’ employ for something more lucrative.

Out of context, it sounds hilariously bonkers to say this is the episode in which John Alderton punches Christopher Biggins for making forceful sexual advances on Pauline Collins (even if it's not quite as bonkers as Biggins terrorising Toyah in Shoestring).

The fight between Thomas and Biggins’s Donaldson feels shocking and, in its own way, brutal, even by today’s standards. That initial subjective shot of Thomas breaking the fourth wall to punch right at the camera made me reel a little, and the fight went on to include tumbles down stairs, broken fixtures, liberal amounts of blood on display and even eye gouging. It’s another reminder that there’s far more to Thomas than even we, the viewers, are aware of. He’s a contender for UpDown’s most unpredictable character and therefore its biggest wildcard.

While she works best as a sour-faced scene-stealer, it is also a rare treat to get an episode where Roberts has a little more to do, and the stolen brooch ticked this box nicely. Even though we know she wouldn’t have done it, we really aren’t sure who has. And her old rival taking advantage of the situation to throw her under the bus feels particularly cruel (and, of course, someone as frosty and snarky as Roberts will have old rivals).

The suffragettes - protesting armed with paint and causing damage to property - feels particularly topical. I do have to wonder how many of today’s activists would continue their right to protest if they knew they risked torture by force feeding in prison. Highlighting this particularly grim aspect of the suffrage movement is something that made this episode feel genuinely shocking for me - particularly when the width of the tube was shown to be not far off that of a garden hose. It wasn’t something of which I was really aware beforehand.

A quick online search confirms that this element was incredibly accurately portrayed, right down to dates (the trial was held in August 1909. Force feeding of suffragettes had begun the previous month). If anything, the horror was mercifully underplayed, with the constraints of TV airing. Rose appears to have emerged from her force feeding relatively unscathed, but then she’d be used to battling on with ailments and whatnot, so who’s to say this hasn’t shortened her life as it did for many.

Elizabeth joining up seems right in character. Anti-suffrage Rose getting caught in the crossfire while Elizabeth emerges with only the smallest of consequences is ironic while ringing true. At the same time, this is really about the relationship between Rose and Elizabeth. As with Elizabeth snapping at Sarah an episode or two earlier, there’s a great scene where Rose initially tries to stop Elizabeth leaving with the suffragettes, with the heated argument becoming about their status as mistress and servant. I do like unapologetic, haughty Elizabeth, even if she’s quick to cool down and make up for her rudeness.

There’s an interesting moment towards the end where Elizabeth realises the movement isn’t for her as she doesn’t feel it works, and the writing points out something that had been screaming at me for most of her interactions with newcomer Julias Karekin through the episode: in order to get things done Elizabeth is relying on a man. To her it’s nothing out of the ordinary, and it fits perfectly with her whimsical, slightly faddy, slightly entitled character who loses interest in her cause as soon as something new is on the horizon (and while Marion Yeats from Corrie’s statement that Elizabeth betrayed them isn’t accurate, it’s also easy to see why this is the perception she’s left with). It’s not a statement about the suffragette movement, but about Elizabeth herself. She’s a flawed gem, which is why I never tire of seeing her held up to the light.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
The Fruits Of Love / The Wages Of Sin
​

While its scenes still feel enjoyably leisurely, there’s no getting round the fact that The Fruits Of Love is incredibly fast moving.

The pace with which the twists arrive is matched only by the brisk editing which feels abrupt and almost choppy. At one point, for example, we cut from That Armenian Guy offering Elizabeth a shop to her telling her parents where they decide on a name. Then we cut from Elizabeth accepting one of her father’s old girlfriend's names literally to that very name on the door of the shop where the next scene takes place. And so it goes.

The experience is akin to watching an edited compilation à la that old EastEnders: The Queen Vic VHS. There are several episodes’ worth of story here.

The first series of strands follow Elizabeth’s relationship with Julius Karekin. Elizabeth is now his mistress and she’s kind of, sort of shacked up with him. At least while her parents are away, or while she can sneak back into Eaton Place unseen by mid morning. To clear the way for Elizabeth, Julius retires his previous mistress under threat of him calling her husband (when begging fails, she resorts to calling him a “dirty little Jew boy”, and you know she plans to leave the relationship about as quietly as Princess Diana.

Julius then buys Elizabeth a hat shop, telling him to decorate, name and stock it as she pleases. While it probably should be a precursor to House Of Elliot (or even House Of Howard), the gesture feels a little like the one Bobby Ewing would make many years later in buying Jenna the boutique (and it’s also not entirely unlike Fallon Carrington investing in La Mirage to beat the wealthy heiress blues).

I must confess some surprise at how easily Richard and Marjorie digested and even embraced the news of their daughter becoming a working girl. They seemed thrilled, commented it was very fashionable to own a shop and that was that. Until it wasn’t.

In her new role as Madame Yvonne, one of her first clients is Margot Descort - Julius’s former mistress whom she last saw as they passed in the hall at his home where Margot was rotated out of service as Elizabeth arrived to fulfil hers. Recognising her, Margot goes straight to Marjorie where she does her civic duty by reporting the facts about Elizabeth and Julius.

Marjorie has rather a lot on her plate this episode, and each problem threatens to disgrace her personally and the family name in the process.

Firstly, when she confronts an unrepentant Elizabeth about Julius, Elizabeth brings up Captain Hammond (Rose had accidentally blurted out about him to Elizabeth earlier in the episode. Again, this revelation could almost have been a whole fifty minutes’ worth by itself).

Next comes financial shame when Marjorie’s brother’s gambling debts are among the things that need to be settled from their father’s estate. As well as possibly rationalising the staff and cutting corners with the budget (an offscreen Mrs Bridges is said to be considering leaving now she’s restricted to just two pints of cream per day), this means - in contemporary parlance - downsizing. Leaving 165 Eaton Place and moving to a smaller property in a less affluent area. Marjorie’s increasing horror as “downmarket” locales such as Chelsea and Paddington are mooted gave some my favourite moments of the episode.

Tying all the strands together, Julius saves the day by buying out the lease and giving it to Elizabeth who in turn makes it over to her mother. This gesture (along with Sir Geoffrey’s comment that Julius could be a useful person to Richard in Parliament) naturally raises his esteem in their eyes and all’s well that ends well. All the same, I still feel a little wary of Julius and - in the best way possible - I’m not sure what to make of him.

continued​

 

[Mel O'Drama]

The Fruits Of Love / The Wages Of Sin
continued
​

Over in The Wages Of Sin, another dark horse takes centre stage as Thomas Watkins nears the end of his long game with the Bellamys and Sarah.

Pauline Collins’s real-life pregnancy is very visible in this episode, and I’d be curious to know if Sarah’s second pregnancy was written in to accommodate this. Perhaps Part Two of The Story Of Upstairs Downstairs will reveal more about it.

Thomas naturally uses this to his advantage. First he rebuffs Sarah when she asks him to marry her for decency’s sake. However, because Sarah has spun a web of lies to colleagues who’ve clocked her condition, saying a stranger got her pregnant, Thomas goes straight to Richard Bellamy and offers to marry Sarah to save the Bellamys from further scandal. With the implicit suggestion, of course, that financial support will be needed from Richard to enable this to happen. All of which means that instead of being pilloried - as a man who’d got a woman pregnant would be - he comes out of it looking heroic and gaining financially.

Thomas is one of the most fascinating UpDown characters for being perhaps its least sympathetic. I don’t know that he’s an out and out villain, but he’s the most self-serving character on the show who always has an agenda and is careful which sides of himself he shows to different characters.

Thomas’s capacity to use every situation for self-gain is entering almost JR Ewing “man you love to hate” territory. This is nicely shown in the turns this episode takes where he appears to get his comeuppance but fights his way out of the corner into which he’s backed.

There’s a great scene where Marjorie returns, finds out about the pregnancy, the engagement and the deal with Richard and tells him it’s out of the question, crisply preparing to dismiss Sarah for her pregnancy and - when he turns down her offer to stay out of the situation - Thomas for his involvement. As a viewer, her dismissal of Thomas was an incredibly gratifying moment because it felt absolutely, karmically deserved.

From this comes a scene where Thomas comes to the breakfast room, ostensibly to apologise for his reaction of displeasure to Marjorie’s dismissal, but again it’s the music between the lyrics - those unspoken things implied in his wording - that creates an excitingly nasty energy. He thanks the Bellamys for everything he and Sarah have learnt during their employment there, and assures them they’ll put it to good use with their new employers (Marjorie practically blanches when he drops the name of the well-respected family to whom his new allegiance will be pledged). It's the perfect example of nuance: something which on the surface is innocuous but which has a far deeper meaning based on understanding one another. As soon as he leaves the room, Marjorie’s silent, impassive stillness vanishes and she becomes a blaze of kinetic righteous fury over his “direct threat”. It’s wonderful to see the fiery Marjorie whom Sir Geoffrey had previously perfectly likened to the lioness.

Once again, it’s diplomatic Richard who saves the day by quietly and covertly offering Thomas the extortionate £500 to get him started in the business of which he dreams which it is agreed will effectively also buy his silence regarding family secrets.

The WASP thing has been very evident in Richard and Marjorie’s relationship in both these episodes. In the first, Elizabeth is the one to point out the obvous that Richard probably knows of her relationship with Captain Hammond. Marjorie surely knew this already but each has chosen to keep their painful secret without discussion and so no more is said of it. I’m glad about this. With Elizabeth’s comment about Richard knowing I feared everything coming out into the open again. It’s fascinating how this brief affair has returned to haunt Marjorie and Richard again and again without the need for a big soapy scene that blows everything out into the open.

The superWASP air also ran through the latter episode, with Richard doing all he can to ensure Marjorie never knows about the blood money he paid to Thomas. This time, though, Marjorie reveals to him at the end that she knows and is thankful. It’s almost out of character for Marjorie and Richard’s interactions, but perhaps also a sign that their attitudes have moved forwards at least a little as the Victorian era reaches an end.

Likewise, their descent downstairs to spend time with the servants as they give Sarah and Thomas a send-off seems rather unexpected - it would have been unthinkable just a short while ago. But it was so feel-good I’ll take it, even if I couldn’t help but worry about a heavily pregnant Pauline Collins balancing on a small chair for her performance of What Are We Gonna Do With Uncle Arthur? I’m sure it would never happen today, so perhaps it echoes the on-screen evolution as a reminder that things have leapt forwards regarding on-set health and safety even in the last half a century.

 

[Alexis]

Oh, I have just discovered this thread. I can't wait to finish work on Monday and be able to sit and have a read through it properly. Upstairs Downstairs is one of my ultimate favourites. I only properly discovered it a few years back and started a thread about it while I was watching it also. I was addicted and couldn't get enough of it. I just fell in love with all the characters, and it had a vibe about it that I just love. Where it feels almost like a new play every night. I loved the slightly dodgy sets and budget constraints. There is something about shows like this where they are sort of forced to sell it, to fake it because they don't have the budget or location or whatever. Something that makes it kind of endearing and charming.

I thought it was a wonderful show, and I loved the cast so much and became so caught up in it all. Now I want to go back and rewatch it, and I may even do that very soon.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Two
A Family Gathering​

It’s been some time since we’ve had a full complement of the ensemble. Apart from Edward (absent these last two episodes due to Chris Beeny’s motorbike accident), I believe all the cast are here.

There’s even a new addition in the form of newly-returned James’s new fiancée Phyllis. And enjoyably crisp she is as well. She comes across as bossy and domineering much of the time, gabbing nine to the dozen and talking down to the staff. As it turns out, the truth is somewhere beyond first impressions.

It’s quite fascinating to see multiple levels of snobbery at play. Phyllis barks at the servants to be careful with her luggage, but once Phyllis leaves the room, Marjorie sighs loftily at what she views as gauche middle class attempts to integrate.

James takes Phyllis down to the servants’ hall to meet everyone, where she appears more charming and almost demure. But then she reels off what feels like a rehearsed line or two about hoping they can all be friends, and begins to march away, turning to ensure James follows her lead.

The most fun Phyllis scenes are with Elizabeth. They meet in the breakfast room (at least I think it is. I get confused between the day rooms on the ground floor and first floor) where Phyllis has come down - to James’s horror - in her nightwear to retrieve the key to her suitcase. Since nobody else is around they indulge in a smooch, and this is the scene into which Elizabeth stumbles, having just fallen out with Julius. The scene has Elizabeth at her frosty best, putting Phyllis firmly in her place with stony looks and replies that range from terse to sarcastic (as she leaves the room, Elizabeth casts her eyes scornfully over Phyllis’s clothing - again - and makes a comment to the effect that she’ll leave so that Phyllis may finish attending to her toilette).

Having now watched Part Two of The Story Of UpDown and read this episode’s fact file on the UpDown website, I feel very sad to see not only that this appears to be Phyllis’s one and only episode, but it’s also the last episode in which Elizabeth appears, due to Nicola Pagett’s understandable unhappiness that Elizabeth wasn’t to be in the planned UpDown feature film (in The Story Of… Nicola Pagett said something about an American actress being used instead, but I’m not clear if this was a recast or a new character to take a similar role in the series). That the film never happened makes her loss to the series seem even more wasteful. Elizabeth has been an absolute gem, particularly throughout Series Two.

I’m forever tying characters in my current viewing to those with whom I’m already familiar. While I initially saw Elizabeth as a Phryne Fisher/Carolyn Bligh type, I’ve since seen that she has the best of the two Fallon Carringtons with Lynn Howard’s sensibilities. It’s been a winning combination.

Filed under characters I’m less sorry to see go come Sarah and Thomas, who have a typically thunderous scene-stealing appearance towards the episode’s end. It may sound odd that I don’t feel I’ll particularly miss them. I suppose it could be best explained by saying that I feel there has to be a limit to what the Bellamys will tolerate and both of them have pushed their hospitality and tolerance to the limits. No matter how fondly Marjorie might view Sarah, for them to remain on the series after Series Two’s events would have stretched credulity for me, especially since they’re now in violation of the series’ very premise by being neither truly upstairs nor downstairs. You could also say John Alderton has done too good a job in that it gets under my skin that Thomas always, always seems to have the upper hand. There’s part of me that cheers to see them go, but at the same time I think I’ll always be expecting Sarah to show up again like the bad penny, and perhaps that’s as it should be.

Even though they won’t be back at Eaton Place, it is perfectly timed that the complete series of Thomas and Sarah is included in a current deal on the distributor’s website. Needless to say, it’s ordered as I don’t feel my UpDown experience would be complete without it.

I’ve discovered that this episode is also Marjorie’s final episode as a regular (The Story Of… hinted that she may return for one or two episodes to “dispense with her gracefully”).

It feels highly appropriate, then, that the episode marks the literal end of the Edwardian era, with the death of the king - a recent dinner guest at 165 Eaton Place - marked onscreen.

Change is always concerning. A new monarch and The Great War looming on the horizon would seem set to shake things up enough. With at least four key characters departing on top of this, what will the new dynamic be? And will it be a bold new era... or the law of diminishing returns?

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Oh, I have just discovered this thread. I can't wait to finish work on Monday and be able to sit and have a read through it properly.

Oh wonderful. It's great to have another series in common that we can yak about.

Upstairs Downstairs is one of my ultimate favourites. I only properly discovered it a few years back and started a thread about it while I was watching it also.

I could swear I remember seeing it at some point, but I couldn't find an UpDown thread when I started watching, and still can't find it. Was it one of the ones that was lost to The Great Crash Of '16?

Where it feels almost like a new play every night. I loved the slightly dodgy sets and budget constraints. There is something about shows like this where they are sort of forced to sell it, to fake it because they don't have the budget or location or whatever. Something that makes it kind of endearing and charming.

Oh yes. The performances completely carry things and I find the occasional little flaws in the series very endearing. There's a cracking example in the Suffragette episode where Marion Yeats slams Rose into the wall of their prison cell and the whole thing totters precariously as though made from styrofoam and corn flake boxes.

These limitations really work in the series' favour. Everything is practical and can't be freshened up with special effects afterwards, which means there's attention to detail. It sounds like a paradox, but every bit of the series' fakery is real, which makes it feel more tangible and substantial. And they add to the play-like element.

Like you, I thoroughly enjoy the stagey feel of the series, and James perfectly described it as being partly a comedy of manners. At times it's like having a front row seat to a performance of a Coward play.

 

[James from London]

I just fell in love with all the characters, and it had a vibe about it that I just love. Where it feels almost like a new play every night. I loved the slightly dodgy sets and budget constraints. There is something about shows like this where they are sort of forced to sell it, to fake it because they don't have the budget or location or whatever. Something that makes it kind of endearing and charming.

These limitations really work in the series' favour. Everything is practical and can't be freshened up with special effects afterwards, which means there's attention to detail. It sounds like a paradox, but every bit of the series' fakery is real, which makes it feel more tangible and substantial. And they add to the play-like element.

I think I remember hearing the phrase "electronic theatre" in relation to UpDown. Episodes would be rehearsed in their entirety (aside from the location stuff) and then filmed like a play, so when you watch a scene, it's more likely to be one long unbroken performance rather than lots of takes edited together. (There will be exceptions here and there.) In one way, it's more exposing - you see the flaws and the artifice -but in another, it feels more "real" as it's all happening "live" in front of you. It's how all TV drama (and sitcoms) were made back then, but I guess UpDown feels that much more theatrical than, say, vintage Doctor Who or Coronation Street because one naturally associates those period costumes and big drawing rooms with old-fashioned theatre. (It's interesting to compare it to Brideshead Revisited, with which it has a lot in common and is equally brilliant, but was filmed entirely on location with a much bigger budget and so has a far more cinematic quality.)

Pauline Collins’s real-life pregnancy is very visible in this episode, and I’d be curious to know if Sarah’s second pregnancy was written in to accommodate this.

That would have been their daughter Kate who I did a play with about twelve years ago. She's really nice, down-to-earth, totally unspoiled (unlike some other actors' offspring I've encountered!) It's funny - I could have sworn she said her parents were unwed when she was conceived and that there was a bit of a fuss from the church about such a prominent couple living in sin and whatnot, but according to Wikipedia they were already hitched so I must have dreamt the whole thing - or somehow got them mixed up with Jesus of Nazareth and Babs from Pan's People.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

I think I remember hearing the phrase "electronic theatre" in relation to UpDown. E

Oh, I like that.

Episodes would be rehearsed in their entirety (aside from the location stuff) and then filmed like a play, so when you watch a scene, it's more likely to be one long unbroken performance rather than lots of takes edited together.

I found it rather eyebrow raising watching The Story Of UpDown last night where actors involved mentioned the anxiety that would come when they heard the LWT ident and then the theme. It surprised me because while I've heard of tv series being recorded "as live", I've tended to assume things like the opening titles, etc. would be edited in later.

I don't know if you've ever found the "easter eggs" on some Network DVDs where if you rewind from the opening ITV network ident it goes back to the thirty second countdown with all the recording date information, etc. You can often hear the bustle in the background as everyone gets ready. Again, I've tended to think this was the crew, but I'm coming to realise it's probably the actors as well. Sometimes you can make out bits of the set. They're quite fascinating, and it's nice that many UpDown episodes have featured these as it feels a little more like "being there".

(It's interesting to compare it to Brideshead Revisited, with which it has a lot in common and is equally brilliant, but was filmed entirely on location with a much bigger budget and so has a far more cinematic quality.)

Another series I hadn't really considered watching, but your description is making me rethink.

That would have been their daughter Kate who I did a play with about twelve years ago.

Oh, that's lovely. My current UpDown viewing head is marvelling at you being in some way connected to Sarah and Thomas's trysts over the garage.

She's really nice, down-to-earth, totally unspoiled (unlike some other actors' offspring I've encountered!)

Always good to hear. I'd love to press you for gossip from the bracketed bit, but since I wouldn't want you to get into trouble I'll hold my curiosity.

It's funny - I could have sworn she said her parents were unwed when she was conceived and that there was a bit of a fuss from the church about such a prominent couple living in sin and whatnot, but according to Wikipedia they were already hitched so I must have dreamt the whole thing - or somehow got them mixed up with Jesus of Nazareth and Babs from Pan's People.

Ha ha. Easily done.

 

[James from London]

actors involved mentioned the anxiety that would come when they heard the LWT ident and then the theme.

Yes, on Doctor Who DVD commentaries, some of the actors say just rehearing the theme tune is enough to make their stomach lurch because they associate it with "we're just about to record" nerves.

It surprised me because while I've heard of tv series being recorded "as live", I've tended to assume things like the opening titles, etc. would be edited in later.

Editing was the really tricky, time-consuming and therefore expensive thing to do back in the day. I think they had to literally cut out bits of film with a pair of scissors and then stick them back together!

I don't know if you've ever found the "easter eggs" on some Network DVDs where if you rewind from the opening ITV network ident it goes back to the thirty second countdown with all the recording date information, etc. You can often hear the bustle in the background as everyone gets ready. Again, I've tended to think this was the crew, but I'm coming to realise it's probably the actors as well. Sometimes you can make out bits of the set. They're quite fascinating, and it's nice that many UpDown episodes have featured these as it feels a little more like "being there".

The ones at the beginning of Dark Shadows episodes are especially primitive:

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Yes, on Doctor Who DVD commentaries, some of the actors say just rehearing the theme tune is enough to make their stomach lurch because they associate it with "we're just about to record" nerves.

What makes that most relatable to me is that it's kind of a distortion of the excited stomach lurch I might have got when hearing the theme of a favourite TV series. I bet the composers of the theme would be chuffed to think of their music having such a physical effect on someone.

The ones at the beginning of Dark Shadows episodes are especially primitive

Oh, that's great. And in a natty suit as well.

Possibly the only thing that could improve on this would be a fag-smoking tea lady who's forgotten her reading glasses.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Three
Miss Forrest
​

We first meet the eponymous Miss Forrest in a scene with Richard, her back to camera. For a moment or two, the titian mop and cut glass accent made me think it was actually Marjorie. I do wonder if there’s a psychology to this. Since, presumably, this could move in a “new mistress of the house” direction, it’s interesting to see that casting appears to have been for a physical “type” to effectively replace Marjorie.

The stir Miss Forrest causes is certainly thrilling enough for me to invest, particularly the threat her presence and her treatment by James has meant to the all-important order of things.

When an instalment of an episodic series begins, a picture is often formed of what it’s about; this week’s “theme” and most heavily-featured players. As the pieces were moved into place, I initially feared that Miss Forrest was being presented to pave the way for her becoming the future Mrs Richard Bellamy. This is something that wouldn’t have sat well with me since Marjorie is both still present and, to my mind at this point, irreplaceable.

It was a relief to find that it was James who had designs on her* and then thought this might be about friction between James and Richard over James courting his employee and disrupting the progress of his work. Better yet, it was the most delightful of surprises when this unexpectedly became a Hudson-centric episode, with the butler virtually seeing double with fury over James’s lack of regard for the delicate social structure within his household.

Any episode that gives Gordon Jackson the opportunity to take centre stage is a great one, and this is right up there with Your Obedient Servant in that regard. In some ways it exceeds it, since it is focussed entirely upon relationships within the house.

There are lots of close-ups and some terrific moments where Hudson’s passionate beliefs drive him to outbursts and a little diatribe or two. However it’s Hudson’s smaller moments - with everything internalised - that demonstrate how wonderfully Gordon performs with nuance and transmits to the viewer what’s going on inside with barely a flicker on the outside. This is most evident in the scenes between Hudson and Miss Forrest. There’s a wonderfully uncomfortable scene as James and Miss Forrest take lunch where Hudson and Edward stand behind James, facing Miss Forrest. Hudson appears completely impassive, but all four eyes stare in her general direction, unnerving her. Ostensibly, Hudson is doing what he would at any mealtime, but everything about the energy says “you do not belong here”. Hudson would be aware that middle class secretary Miss Forrest is already intimidated by the formality and it’s implicit that he wants to make the experience as uncomfortable as possible for her. It’s only in the tightest of close-ups that we see a glimmer of pained horror as Hudson’s master’s best claret is consumed before his eyes, following a battle of wills between Hudson and James.

Hudson is certain Richard would strongly disapprove of one of his last two bottles of claret being opened in his absence and served at lunchtime (and, by Hudson’s interpretation, to someone of Hazel Forest’s background) and he speaks to James one-to-one trying to prevent this. After some to-ing and fro-ing in the power struggle, Hudson is overruled by James and, long story short, tells James he intends to give notice upon Richard and Marjorie’s return, which he duly does.

The scenes between Hudson and James also deliver some of Simon Williams’s strongest work in the series to date and are quite electric. The angry, righteous James as master of the house in his parents absence evokes his very first scenes back in Series One’s Board Wages. Simon has said in interview that he felt he was very green back in his debut and they’re the scenes he’d most like to re-shoot. Watching these scenes, it’s easy to think that he came very close to doing just that here, and the presence with which he does so - going toe-to-toe with Gordon Jackson, no less - impresses and shows the growth in his confidence.

The fallout of James’s luncheon resonates both upstairs and down. There’s a full complement of staff downstairs (it’s great to see Christopher Beeny back and - to my surprise when he got up from his chair - mobile) to take deep breaths, make heavy sighs and look skyward upon hearing of Master James’s antics, which is always good fun.

Perhaps most satisfying of all in what I’m now certain must be Rachel Gurney’s final UpDown episode, is that this scenario presents a difference of opinion between Marjorie and Richard. They initially appear united in their frustration at James for putting Hudson in a situation so untenable he has resigned. However, Marjorie quickly makes clear that she feels Miss Forrest must lack “taste and good judgement” for accepting James’s forceful offer of luncheon. What’s more, even though she’s devastated at the idea of Hudson departing, Marjorie’s different socio-economic background to her husband’s quickly shows when Richard wants James to apologise to Hudson and Marjorie very quickly protests that she will not allow her son to apologise to a servant. It’s a fascinating dynamic, very true to the series’ premise.

James’s eventual spontaneous apology to Hudson was probably necessary to provide the story with a resolution, and it did come across as respectful. However (and particularly since Hudson had already retracted his resignation and so was staying anyway) I think my preference would have been for it to happen in such a way that James got across his meaning to Hudson without explicitly saying the words.

With cast members usually despatched in a throwaway line or two, it’s nice that Marjorie (and Roberts - or so it seems) were given a bit of a wave-off by other characters as they departed. I absolutely LOVED the subtlety with which their tragic fates were imparted, with there being no reference at all to the specific mode of transport they were taking until Richard dictated his Marconigram to Miss Forrest. I was so wrapped up in awaiting to the content of his actual message, that the key information - the throwaway reference to Marjorie’s ship - took several seconds to dawn on me. We were tastefully zooming into Marjorie’s portrait as it sank in that RMS Titanic sank on her sole voyage.

It’s a greatly exciting little twist, and since I didn’t know it was coming I was able to get the full impact, unspoilt. Having seen a thumbnail of the next episode on the UpDown website's episode list I have had a spoiler about one of the outcomes of this tragedy, but I have no context to know what it means. I’m greatly looking forward to the next instalment, though I’m also very sorry to lose the ever-watchable Marjorie. At least her final episode gave us some nice, meaty scenes that proved the lioness still had her claws.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Three
A House Divided / A Change Of Scene​

There’s a rich vein of atmosphere running through A House Divided, best encapsulated by the shadowy, fire-lit nighttime scene in the servants’ hall, where the various staff are all mostly seated apart from one another, each occupying themselves in various ways or simply deep in reflective thought, but interacting with one another as thunder rumbles ominously outside. It becomes an impromptu series of eulogies as each remembers their first meeting with, or fondest memory of, Lady Marjorie.

It’s the perfect atmosphere for a dramatically soapy surprise back-from-the-dead. Except when the downstairs door is knocked and Rose, opening it, screams, we join her to see not Lady Marjorie standing there but a bedraggled, shocked Roberts (whose own apparent death on the Titanic hadn’t even rated a mention among her colleagues).

In black and white, the premise sounds a little tacky and borderline preposterous for a series of this kind. The story is already compelling, and so this sounds very much like over-egging the pudding. It’s executed with precision, though and feels far more truthful than it should. The biggest disappointment for me is that the image used for the thumbnail of this episode on the UpDown site is a close-up of Roberts, so it wasn’t the surprise it could have been and I’m sure this knowledge reduced the scene’s impact.

Since her return worked so well, it is a little disappointing to discover that this was the last episode to feature Roberts, meaning she was brought back only to be removed.

Still, Patsy Smart is great in this, her final episode as she tells of watching the ship sinking and her efforts to remain with Marjorie and get her rescued. There’s a raw, visceral edge to her performance, perhaps shown in one of the lingering close ups where tears fall from her eyes, snot from her nose and drool from either side of her mouth. It’s quite terrifying, and there’s a wonderful silent awe from the characters listening to her story in the servants’ hall.

This episode also sees the tensions increase between the downstairs staff and Hazel Forrest.

Hudson takes umbrage when she neglects to inform him the master will be out for his luncheon since Richard had mentioned it in passing and she’d assumed Hudson had known. The strained scenes between them - with the new “mistress” trying to stand her ground against the formidable man in charge of the smooth running of the house - feel very much like those between Krystle and Joseph almost a decade later in Dynasty (the more I watch UpDown, the clearer it becomes just how influential it was on other series). There’s also Mrs Bridges, who has prepared the wasted meal. She has very few polite things to say about Hazel after the latter seems reluctant to leave her with the key to the large store cupboard.

The episode’s two main strands come together when Hazel jumps in to calm down a hysterical Roberts and persuade her to hand over Marjorie’s jewellery box for inventory purposes, displaying the same cool-in-a-crisis head Sarah Adams later would in A Place To Call Home. I don’t know, though. Earlier in the episode, Hazel’s parents had said they didn’t think it a good idea for her to take on things outside those she is employed to do, and since she’s a secretary and all roles in the house are so well defined, it does feel that she’s overstepping. In the scene with Roberts, it feels the intention was to show her competence and strength, however she could also be viewed as an opportunist who is attracted to drama.

I’m even less sure what to make of the final imagery which draws a direct comparison between Marjorie and Hazel. It’s kind of a passing of the torch, and I suppose it’s supposed to be in a good way (since Hazel didn’t do the “nasty character” thing of turning the picture of Marjorie face down and smirking) but it’s been so short a time it feels odd. Hazel is still a secretary, albeit a pushy one who is making eyes at the boss’s son.

Still, the detente between she and Hudson as he offered her coffee without solicitation felt like a genuinely satisfying breakthrough. At this point, it feels I have more reservations about her than she does. Here's hoping that changes.


A Change Of Scene feels very much like a backdoor pilot for a spinoff. Or one of those “alternative” episodes like Knots Landing’s The Three Sisters which takes place away from the usual locale.

Apart from opening and closing scenes, only two regular characters feature: Hudson and James. Other than that it’s filled with familiar faces that are difficult to place. John Quayle’s is the most familiar face and I think I he’s best known to me as Terry & June’s Malcolm. He did appear in an earlier UpDown in a different role, though, so perhaps there’s that as well. But almost everyone gave me that feeling of familiarity, which suggests good character actors.

It’s a curio of an episode. I suspect it could be skipped without it making any difference at all to the chronology. It’s yet another episode in which Hudson almost resigns but doesn’t (this time he’s tempted by the kudos of running a far grander estate), and Hudson’s story becomes one of internalised loyalty, since only we know what he sacrifices due to his affection for those at 165 Eaton Place. And that works well. There’s also James realising how deeply infatuated he is with Hazel.

Other than that, it lives up to its name as a quirky story of bitchiness, mischief and casual anti-Semitism, all featuring likeable-but-nasty hooray Henrys and lots of lovely location work. It doesn’t feel like an essential episode, nor a great one, but it’s interesting to see the above stairs/below stairs template transferred to a different location and still working. Mostly.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Three
A Family Secret

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Having been quite sceptical about Hazel’s motives after her second and third episodes, this episode started to get my mind made up. By around a third of the way through, it seemed clear to me that she was a rather mercenary woman who’d set her sights on landing the son of a powerful, wealthy family, made vulnerable due to the loss of his mother with whom she shared some physical resemblances. Even Mrs Bridges made a comment about them placing bets on whether Hazel would eventually land the son or the father.

Looking back at this episode through jaded Twenty First Century eyes, there’s a lot about what Hazel says and does that looks very much like manipulative game play. Like forcing James’s hand while they dine out by flatly asking (after a courtship running, in her own words, for a matter of weeks) to tell her about his intentions. Then, when she gets the marriage proposal she wants and knows he’s hooked, she makes him dangle further by turning him down.

Rather like when Sarah had her hooks into James, the motives feel questionable. And I suppose never being quite certain of these things is a high class problem, and one with which I feel fortunate I’ll probably never have to contend. Perhaps it’s a statement in itself. Watching the rich suffering is a televisual sport and this is one of those examples that subtly tells us why the rich (or wealthy. Or beautiful. Or influential. Or popular. Or whatever) may never be truly happy.

As is usual on UpDown, it’s not quite that black and white. As unsure as I’ve felt about Hazel, she’s made a little more sympathetic to us when it appears her parents have rather too much say in her life choices and - secretarial career aside - appear to keep her on a very tight reign. She’s endured lectures and knowing comments about how the entitled upper classes treat middle class people. And, after Hazel has turned James’s proposal down and is crying alone, her mother appears from the next room to tell her it’s all for the best that she stays at home where it's safe and it seems implied Hazel - under some kind of threat or duress - is carrying out her mother's orders despite herself.

But there’s more to this situation, too, than meets the eye, as we learn when Hazel’s father pays a visit to James to reveal the reasons behind it all. Long story short, Hazel married young to an alcoholic who took her to Newcastle and beat her, resulting in a divorce. And so it turns out that James, Hazel, Hazel’s father - almost everyone, in fact (with the possible exception of Hazel’s horrified mother) wanted the marriage, but there was anxiety over the sordid truth coming out.

This gives opportunity to show the contrast in social expectations dependent upon class. To the privileged upper class, divorce is no longer stigmatised. As Lady Prudence points out, it’s becoming quite fashionable, but while it may one day be the case that every other suburban household will have experienced divorce, it’s extremely taboo at this moment in time.

Prudence, by the way, is proving as reliable as ever. Her role as slightly ditzy socialite, friend, confidante and snob reminds me very much of her latter day namesake from A Place To Call Home (who in turn had echoes of Sons and Daughters’ Charlie Bartlett).

I did wonder how Lady Prudence would fit into things given her close friend was Lady Marjorie, but it’s nice to see the warm support she’s still offering to Richard.

There’s a beautiful scene between them where Richard gives Prudence some jewellery that belonged to Marjorie. Had it taken place elsewhere and elsewhen it would no doubt have been a memorable tearful, schmaltzy scene. As it is, it’s evident that Richard has saved this moment for when he is feeling strong and solid and so he holds his emotions in check, even as his language demonstrates his sincerity. I think he even used the term “with her love” in describing the sentiment with which Marjorie would want Prudence to have them. In turn, Prudence looks as though she’s on the verge of becoming sentimental before quickly checking herself and tucking both jewels and emotions tightly away and thanking Richard before quickly changing the subject. Even before this, there’s a nice moment where he goes to the bureau behind the sofa where she’s seated (to get the package with the jewellery) and his words make clear what he’s about to do. Richard is behind Prudence, and she is facing us, and there’s this wonderful little flicker that crosses her face where you can really see how important this moment is to her and how hard she’ll have to work to respond with stoical dignity.

She’s actually really busy in this episode, is Lady Prudence, helping things move forwards six months after Marjorie’s death. She sorts and takes a number of Marjorie’s dresses to charity. She speaks casually of the loss of her own husband to identify with Richard. She also tells Richard that Marjorie had once spoken to her of a wish that Richard would remarry if she predeceased him, so easing the way for a potential future Mrs Richard Bellamy, should one appear on the horizon (oh my… could it be Prudence herself? I kind of hope so now).

In today’s fast-paced world, it’s also refreshing to hear outraged comments over James popping the question to Hazel a mere six months into the grieving period. It is soon, of course, and from James’s point of view it’s not the wisest time to be making such a huge life decision. But much of the concern here isn’t primarily about James not being emotionally in the right place for this, but over how it all looks, because it’s simply not the done thing and society would frown on it.

There’s a lovely scene between James and Mrs Bridges where he comes down to the servants’ hall to find her dozing alone in a chair with the wireless on (well, it is Sunday afternoon, after all), and she looks immediately embarrassed. He ends up having tea and cake and asking her what the staff would think if Hazel were to become the new mistress of 165 and - once she gets over her initial shock and evident horror - she goes into a lovely little monologue that gives him the seal of approval and tells of her (and the other staff’s) devotion to the family. Elsewhere, Hudson has a similar conversation with Richard… a nice moment for both.

As Mrs Bridges comments earlier in the episode while shaking her head over the latest developments:

Things isn’t what they was.

And Hudson quickly corrects her:

Things aren’t what they was.

Just wonderful.

 

[Mel O'Drama]

Series Three
Rose’s Pigeon
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My viewing has slowed right down this week. Partly I’ve been kept busy by this irritating “life” business, but I’m also not feeling a particularly strong pull to watch UpDown. It’s difficult to say why, as it’s certainly not bad at the moment. I do wonder if this means if I’ll end up viewing the first two years more fondly than the rest, but then I don’t even reach the entire series’ halfway point for another couple of episodes, so I’m hopeful I’ll get my UpDown groove back on again at some point. Hopefully soon.

It’s perhaps four or five nights since I watched Rose’s Pigeon and part of me wishes I’d written sooner after as my memory is hopeless. It was wonderful to see Alfred back with some welcome continuity from his exit story over two years earlier: in viewers’ real time, that is. It’s closer to eight years in onscreen time.

The difference in time and Alfred’s return highlight a number of changes that have taken place onscreen. The changes to the residents and staff at 165 Eaton Place are the least of it. The scene that really did it for me was when Alfred confided in Rose that he was in love and after a brief paused, she asked with a conspiratorial smile if it was with a man. Even though she looked slightly relieved when he said it was a woman, that moment of acceptance showed a change in the Rose who couldn’t even speak of what she’d seen back when she'd walked in on Alfred and the Baron. Similarly, when Richard is told that his footman of many years earlier - who'd left under a significant cloud - is downstairs, Richard casually says something like “Ah yes. I remember him”. The non-reaction, though, did feel very much in character for Richard who has turned impassivity (or should that be impassiveness?) into a fine art.

Balancing this out, Hudson and Mrs Bridges cluck wonderfully upon learning that Alfred is present, while it’s novel-and-yet-perfectly-natural to see Alfred interacting with the newer servants, particularly his replacement Edward.

George Innes is wonderful here again. He certainly made a huge mark on the series, especially impressive given this final appearance is only his fifth episode. He balances the dark and light brilliantly and is as intense as ever, with Alfred remaining UpDown’s most unpredictable and extreme character.

It’s telling that at this point I accept any twist to his story during this episode - imaginary or real - without feeling particularly surprised, because with Alfred all bets are off. Even the final shocking twist - that he’s carved up his elderly male employer with a meat cleaver and is being pursued for murder - feels so very Alfred.

There was one little surprise, though. As the episode progressed and led to the siege situation, I felt it would probably end with Alfred taking his own life. The news that he’d been hanged for the murder was a stark reminder of the brutality of the times, particularly given Alfred - certainly to contemporary eyes - appears to be someone with significant psychological problems. I liked that it didn’t feel like a pro or anti stance on capital punishment, with the viewer left to decide for themselves based on the two heartfelt but opposing views put forth by Hudson (that it’s just and in line with God’s law as well) and Rose (that it’s simply not right to do that to someone who, in her words, is “not right in the head”).

Alfred’s exit story is another example of this series still not pulling its punches when it matters most.