In the most recent The Atlantic, James Parker wrote a review of Downton Abbey titled "Brideshead Regurgitated." In describing the venerable Robert, Earl of Grantham, Mr. Parker writes:
Imagine Tony Blair stripped of that wolfish gleam of self-interest,
inflated with 20 or 30 brisk strokes of a bicycle pump, squeezed into a
tweed hunting jacket, and then sent out into the world with a fixed
frown of genteel incomprehension. Bonneville has fine comic instincts
(he was tremendous, for instance, in Notting Hill), and for the
role of Robert he has cultivated a strange, plodding denseness and
deliberateness, as if the earl is contending with a minor brain injury.
In a sense, there is something wrong with Robert’s brain: his pomposity is so complete, it is almost a state of innocence.
I would have to say such a description is pretty accurate. I recommend the article for another take on this royal family that has mesmerized America. Not to say the negative opinions are difficult to find. I provide a few more comments below.
-- Simon Schama writing in The Daily Beast:
Nothing beats British television drama for servicing the instincts of
cultural necrophilia. So the series is fabulously frocked, and acted,
and overacted, and hyper-overacted by all the Usual Suspects in keeping
with their allotted roles.
-- Benedict Cumberbatch quoted in Reader's Digest:
“We’re remembering that there was a world before the First World War.
We’re living in a culture now that’s revering, or having a nostalgia
trip with, the beginning of the 1900s. Although Downton traded a lot on
the sentiment in the last series…but we won’t talk about that series
because it was, in my opinion, f*****g atrocious.”