Gosford Park Review
by John Sylva (DeWyNGaLe AT aol DOT com)April 3rd, 2002
GOSFORD PARK (2001)
Reviewed by John Sylva
Upstairs, downstairs, bedrooms, hallways, and kitchens–no single portion in the remarkable England estate of Gosford Park is left untouched by helmer Robert Altman, a director whose resume ought to serve as a standard for what it means to be one of the greats. Altman, historically known for ensemble pictures, works wonders with actor-cum-screenwriter Julian Fellowes to bring a time period of self-absorbency to mesmerizing vitality with Gosford Park, a film almost overflowing with memorable performances.
It's not unusual for Altman to take on such a large-scale project, but what is a surprise is that Altman, almost miraculously, has successfully juggled 40-some-odd speaking parts in a 2 hour 17 minute running time without ever letting the proceedings reek of over-ambition. The flow of Gosford Park, and its pleasure, lies in its faith in the audience to obverse the many characters attending a weekend shooting party at the home of Lady Sylvia McCordle (Kristin Scott Thomas) and her husband Sir William McCordle (Michael Gambon) with complete recognition that not every personality within the home will come to light, for Fellowes' ingeniously plotted script views the upstairs and downstairs bodies as the film's only true characters. The snobbery and self-indulgence of the upstairs body and the humanity and pain of the downstairs body conveys all the viewer truly needs to know about the pawns of Gosford Park.
The rules are simple: The downstairs servants, under the supervision of Mrs. Wilson (a devastatingly perfect Helen Mirren), will be known only by the names of those whom they serve and will speak only when spoken to. The upstairs guests, all under their own supervision, will eat multi-course meals while discussing matters of no importance and will put on the performances of their lives to impress one another with whatever tidbits of gossip they might harbor.
Altman understands the politics of the upstairs/downstairs interaction perfectly well; in general, the majority of the servants remain in convention, acknowledging their mistreatment by the guests if not fully accepting it. But sporadically, tides of self-worth, tides of independence, show themselves in the actions of the servants. Such an instance occurs at a fateful dinner in which Emily Watson's neglected head household Elsie dares to defend a guest from the ridicule of Lady Sylvia. Watson, not just in this scene but throughout the entire film, handles her character with a vibrance that epitomizes the tides of change that would come with World War II.
Sneaking into the proceedings is a bit of Hollywood satire but thankfully not in the heavy-handed manner that most directors bring to the device: Morris Weissman (Bob Balaban, the film's producer) is a guest at the party to do research for his latest Hollywood picture, Charlie Chan in London, and may or may not have a closer connection to his valet Henry Denton (a surprisingly good Ryan Phillippe) than it seems. His film, although it often parallels the plot of Gosford's, is dismissed as nonsense by the "accomplished" house guests; Constance, the Countess of Trentham (a witty Maggie Smith), dryly tells Mr. Weissman, "Don't worry, none of us will ever see it."
The highlight of the gracefully directed film occurs at its midpoint, as Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam) performs song after song (the unforgettable "The Land That Might Have Been" among them) in his endless self-lovingness, much to the annoyance of a few bridge-playing upstairs guests, but much to the delight of the downstairs servants who find escape and solace in the entrancing music. The facial expressions of the servants who sit and dance and laugh and smoke while listening in this incredible scene convey more emotion than any monologue ever could, summing up to perfect size the emotional core of Gosford Park. Something must be mentioned of the murder so prominent in the film's ad campaign; no doubt, a murder does occur and a mystery does ensue, with young maid Mary Macreachran (a superbly innocent Kelly Macdonald) doing the majority of the unraveling. However, the mysterious proceedings hold no bearing to the likes of the camp classic Clue as many are lead to believe; Gosford Park's mystery, as with the rest of the film, is an indication–an omen, that a way of life–an era, is about to–has to, end.
GRADE: A
Film reviewed April 2nd, 2002.
Originally posted in the rec.arts.movies.reviews newsgroup. Copyright belongs to original author unless otherwise stated. We take no responsibilities nor do we endorse the contents of this review.
