'Clunkety clunk, as always' goes the latest Downton Abbey spin-off

The success of Downton Abbey is something that defies sense, particularly dramatic sense.

Creator Julian Fellowes went out of his way throughout the 52 episodes of the TV series, and the subsequent three full-length movies, to make sure that as little as possible of any consequence actually happened.

Apparent plots would arrive – scandalous upheavals, dubious doings upstairs or downstairs, the possibility of Agatha Christie-type murders – only to find themselves sorted and shelved within a scene or two.

The soft-hearted Fellowes seemed incapable of being cruel to any of his puppets and was only really interested in dishing out happy endings.

By the last episode of the TV series you could hardly move for weddings, upwardly mobile staff and problems solved. Not that this stopped the producers from ferreting out more to pad out a couple of spinoff movies.

So, by the end – by which I mean this final Downton Abbey, subtitled The Grand Finale – virtually everyone unhitched will get hitched, and anyone without a decent job will find one – possibly in the theatre.

The Grand Finale sees Fellowes’ two successful secret weapons on display. First, his research – I suspect he has a short book called The Aristocracy in the Early Twentieth Century.

Having turned to the year 1930, Jules read that the king of the West End theatre was playwright, actor, director, songwriter and general wit, Noël Coward.

So, expect plenty of Noël, played by a chap who gets the voice, but not much else.

Every twist of the story – I use the word “story” mostly for rhythm – is punctuated, underlined and generally pummeled by Coward songs like ‘The Stately Homes of England’ and ‘Poor Little Rich Girl.’

Fellowes’ other key ingredient in every episode of Downton is his famous tin ear for dialogue.

The Downton crowd don’t want subtlety – I doubt if Noël Coward would have lasted in the writer’s room. They want to be told what they already suspect and then told it again.

Clunkety clunk, as always. But in fact, the main strengths of Downton Abbey have very little to do with the writing.

People want to look around the stately homes in question, and here they get all they could ask for. As always, The Grand Finale looks splendid.

And there’s also the dream cast, who give the paltry script more than it could possibly ask for – from Hugh Bonneville and Michelle Dockery as the present and future Lord and Lady of the Manor, to Carson the butler and Daisy the one-time kitchen maid, now the Abbey’s cook.

I was always a fan of Joanne Froggatt as the capable lady’s maid Anna and Brendon Coyle as her saturnine husband Bates. They were the actual stars of the first series – was Bates a war hero, a murderer or both? – before Fellowes realised plotting was unnecessarily hard.

Nothing for them again this time.

Maggie Smith has gone, sadly – her delivery of Lady Violet’s sarcastic one-liners gave the illusion of wit that Fellowes could only dream of.

And I’m sorry to note the absence of a personal favourite, Tuppence Middleton, who played ‘maid with a secret’, Miss Smith, in the last film.

But as I say, there’s not much room for secrets - or indeed anything else much – in the living rooms of Downton Abbey.

Will Robert hand over the reins to daughter Mary? Will Mary get past – shock horror – her recent divorce? Will American brother-in-law Harold get over mishandling the family silver?

The answer - as anyone who’s ever seen an episode can attest - is “don’t worry about it”. In fact, the problems are often solved before you realise there is one.

It’s all perfectly Downton, in other words. One doesn’t follow the plot of a Downton Abbey film. One simply wallows in it, ticking off the bits you recognise, and promising yourself to look up the bits you don’t.