![]() That was more or less the point of the original Julian Fellowes-created series, which opened on a chaotic moment in 1912, when it appeared that the Crawleys’ gleaming world of aristocratic pleasure and privilege might soon be endangered. Yes, even the end comes with giggles and reassurances at Downton Abbey, a place so overstuffed with cushions and tapestries that soft landings are all but guaranteed. Meanwhile, as those who saw the last movie know, the grim specter of death has also come to Downton, and it too chooses just the right moment, eliciting a few wails and sniffles in between stiff-upper-lip one-liners. A perfectly timed intrigue beckons from the South of France, sending several of the Crawleys off for a few days of sunshine (which almost explains why several of them seem to be sporting poorly applied spray tans). With the exception of Lady Mary’s conspicuously absent husband, everyone and everything arrives right on schedule in “Downton Abbey: A New Era.” A silent-film director with an eye for manorial splendor turns up with his cast and crew, to the delight of the starstruck servants and anyone who likes a self-satisfied movie-within-a-movie in-joke.
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