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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mel O&#039;Drama" data-source="post: 344226" data-attributes="member: 23">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.</blockquote>

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