We have both been glued to “Downton Abbey” lately.
Who hasn’t been addicted to that? We both almost started wearing black when Sybil – daughter of Downton master Lord Grantham – died.
Sybil’s demise was just a preview to our mourning after the season finale aired last week. If you have not seen it, leave this page and do something else because I plan to spoil it for you.
I characteristically fell asleep at the very end.
The next day, Tommy said, “You have to finish watching that.” He knew that there would be written references to the distressing ending.
I was still unprepared for the final scene when a car accident claimed a character’s life. Fortunately, I have time to assimilate that before next season starts.
Show creator Julian Fellowes said the actors who portrayed the two doomed characters only had contracts for three years and did not want to renew them. Apparently, neither had any intention of staying on the show.
Fellowes said after he had drug out Sybil’s death he did not want to do the same with the other character – ergo, the surprise.
Regrettably, watching something so entertaining with Tommy was short-lived. After “Downton Abbey” was over, he went back to surfing TV channels for classic movies. Or how I like to describe them, ancient movies.
These movies bore me so much I barely glance at them, but I must admit he had me hooked on “Rear Window” this week.
“Rear Window” is a 1955 Alfred Hitchcock thriller starring Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly.
Stewart plays a photographer who is confined to his New York courtyard apartment because of a broken leg and passes the time by looking out his window to see what the neighbors are doing. Kelly plays his socialite girlfriend who did not share his voyeuristic interests but eventually becomes an accomplice herself.
I now sound like my son John Bragg III who writes a movie article for the Thursday edition of The Murfreesboro Post, but there were several things of great interest to me in the film.
The first was the breathtaking beauty of Kelly.
She looked like she had never dyed her beautiful blonde hair and wore stylish clothes, which encased a waist that could not have been more than 20 inches in circumference.
Other actresses in the movie are similarly small.
I also enjoyed seeing the suburban-like Greenwich Village apartment that had courtyards, usable fire escapes and flowerbeds.
I took a home tour in Greenwich Village a few years ago and encountered a similar backyard. It was allegedly behind the apartment where E. M. Forrester wrote “A Room With a View.” And while the apartment complex I toured had more greenery than any other New York apartment I’ve ever seen, it was in no way as grassy as the one in this film.
I Googled the street view on a current map (the movie named the address as 125 9th Ave.) and there were no longer apartments there.
I don’t understand Tommy’s preoccupation with these types of movies.
He says the characters are classic, the subjects are understandable, and dialogue is easy, but those criteria are the antithesis of the books he reads. He tells me he enjoys elaborate spy novels because they have subplots.
So, I’ll just keep making my friends happy by supplying them with dishcloths, and because Easter is coming, some smocked dresses for the grandchildren may be in the works too.
I’ll keep you posted.
‘Til next week.