The problem with Belgravia is that it is not Downton Abbey South, which is what everyone wants it to be, even though we are pretending we don’t.
We are feigning an interest in this new set of characters, we are assuming a position that we are culturally open to new artistic experiences, even as our very marrow screams for Dame Maggie to come on in a piece of millinery the size of a boat and say something tart about electricity or the Americans.
It is ridiculous to think like this, but what can we do except contrast, compare and mourn?
If only victualler’s daughter Sophia Trenchard (Emily Reid) and posho Lord Edmund Bellasis (Jeremy Neumark Jones) had been in control of their lust, we wouldn’t be here at all
Especially when Belgravia has been written by Julian Fellowes (adapted from his own novel), then produced and directed by the same wonderful team which turned Downton into such an international smash?
It has been five long years since the last series ended on television and many of us are still trying to come to terms with the Carson-shaped hole in our hearts.
The other problem with Belgravia is that so many of the characters in the first episode seem such frightful rotters; a parcel of rogues, some traitors in gaiters plus a muster of axe-faced duchesses in plumed hats that quiver with condescension.
The problem with Belgravia is that it is not Downton Abbey South, which is what everyone wants it to be, even though we are pretending we don’t. Anne Trenchard (Tasmin Greig) is pictured above with Susan Trenchard (Alice Eve)
If only victualler’s daughter Sophia Trenchard (Emily Reid) and posho Lord Edmund Bellasis (Jeremy Neumark Jones) had been in control of their lust, we wouldn’t be here at all.
This entire six-part series revolves around the concept of conception. Primarily that on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo, while attending the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, at some point between the serving of the jellied calves hooves and the dancing of the gallopade, these star-crossed lovers verily plighted their troths.
Some 26 years later a handsome young man called Charles Pope (Jack Bardoe) turns up in London and the game is on.
He has no idea that he could be a Bellasis, an heir to the earldom of Brockenhurst, even though both his sets of grandparents seem to be in on the secret. Or are they?
Not much seems to get through to Peregrine, Earl of Brockenhurst (Tom Wilkinson), who is swathed in sorrow and whiskers like a sad old Womble, and bossed around by his deliciously ghastly wife Caroline (Harriet Walter).
Perhaps the problem is that so far there has been very little action from the Belgravia below-stairs mob, a fetid collection of stew guzzlers who plot against their Trenchard masters
Bristling with hauteur, she delights in tormenting Anne Trenchard (Tamsin Greig) who bears her snobbery with a trembling stoicism.
The chap we are all supposed to like is her socially ambitious husband James Trenchard (Philip Glenister), supplier of goods to the Duke of Wellington’s army and a fully paid up member of the emergent nouveaux riches.
‘He has travelled a long way,’ says his long-suffering wife, ‘so he does not see the natural barriers that will prevent him from going much further.’ Like her, I find it hard to take him seriously.
Glenister storms around in a variety of top hats and the kind of mutton-chop whiskers that sleep in a hutch and need regular saucers of milk. And what have they done to his hair?
Instead of thrusting 19th century entrepreneur, all I see is Les Gray from the pop group Mud.
Elsewhere the Duchess of Richmond’s ball is a marvellous set piece, the production values are high and the acting is all top notch, but so far sour Belgravia lacks a certain warmth and strength of purpose, while some of the lines are laugh out loud.
Are we really supposed to believe the Duke of Wellington paused on the eve of battle to give Trenchard a pep talk about his social climbing?
‘Don’t be distracted by the geegaws of society. You are cleverer than that,’ he says, before going off to meet his Waterloo.
And really, what do we care about James and his deft way with dry goods?
If his supply of pulses is supposed to get pulses racing, then it isn’t working.
The chap we are all supposed to like is her socially ambitious husband James Trenchard (Philip Glenister), supplier of goods to the Duke of Wellington’s army and a fully paid up member of the emergent nouveaux riches. He is pictured above with Anne Trenchard (Tasmin Greig)
Perhaps the problem is that so far there has been very little action from the Belgravia below-stairs mob, a fetid collection of stew guzzlers who plot against their Trenchard masters.
Turton the butler (Paul Ritter, excellent as always) is stealing every scene plus haunches of venison from the pantry to sell on the quiet. One shudders to think what Carson would say.
In truth, I confess myself a little disappointed so far, confused by who is who under all the whiskerage but I love the spirited relationship between James and Anne Trenchard.
You can see that he adores her and admires her feline grace. And that’s neat, that’s neat, that’s neat, that’s neat, he really loves her tiger feet.