The final instalment of the film trilogy. Languid, and with a fin de siècle air. Writer Julian Fellowes is now almost 76 years old himself. There is an inescapable sense that he is writing not simply about Downton Abbey but himself as the generational change in stewardship of the Abbey coincides with the tumultuous events of the 1930’s and another world war.

Nothing much happens. Lady Mary takes over. An American shyster is thwarted and that is about it. Apart from the fact that it is now all over. Or is it? Is a new series with Lady Mary  around the corner?

The costumes, particularly the sister’s dresses are to die for, all bias cuts an cowl necks courtesy of Anne Robbins. The cinematography is lush and numerous loose ends over the entire series are tied up Noel Coward comes to dinner. Despite all this the editing of he scenes is frenetic. It is almost as if we are being told-  “if you are finding this  bits slow, here’s  something else!”

A fitting finale to  a wonderful story series.