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Lady Sylvia McCordle (Kristin Scott Thomas) flaunts
her upperclass charms on valet Henry Denton (Ryan
Phillippe) in Gosford Park.
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On paper, Robert Altman's Gosford Park sounds like an Agatha Christie remake. It's 1932 and a shooting party gathers at a posh English estate. By the end of the weekend, someone will be murdered -- twice. The police are baffled, but the servants of Gosford Park have their own theories about the identity of the murderer or murderers.
On screen, Gosford Park is a sprawling, ensemble comic-drama that revels in its anglophile details, period costumes and lush country setting. It's a cinematic stretch for Altman, a director who's used to pushing boundaries. For that reason alone, Gosford Park is worth watching.
Altman has had his share of missteps lately, but the cynical Gosford Park is a wonderful return to form. It's mean-spirited, and that's my favorite attribute of any Altman film.
Sir William McCordle (Michael Gambon) and his young wife, Lady Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas), have invited family and assorted friends to their country estate for a genteel shooting party. Most of the guests' conversations revolve around Sir William's money or their need for some of it. Constance, Countess of Trentham, and Lady Sylvia's aunt (played zestfully by veteran actress Maggie Smith), relies on Sir William for her income. Lt. Cmdr. Anthony Meredith (Tom Hollander), married to Lady Sylvia's youngest sister, Lady Lavinia (Natasha Wightman), wants Sir William to bankroll one of his business propositions. In the race for Sir William's wallet, they have plenty of competitors. When a murder disrupts the elegant gathering, it's Constance's maid, Mary Maceachran (Kelly Macdonald), who begins to unravel the source of the foul play.
In context, Gosford Park tells a story similar to Jean Renoir's 1939 film, Rules of the Game. Both films focus on the synergistic worlds of the downstairs servants and their upstairs, upper-class employers. But in spirit the bitter Gosford Park and the humanistic Rules of the Game are worlds apart.
Altman's smug and cynical film stands on its own merits. The intrigues are purposefully complex. Its murder mystery matches the scope and scale of Gosford Park's impressive ensemble cast. The film reaches for something more substantial that sheer entertainment. Its tone is intentionally sarcastic. Many of the film's characters exist as targets for Altman's satirical sense of humor.
It's impressive how Altman sustains the intrigue, surprise and suspense in Gosford Park. Nothing is simple or ordinary about its sprawling brand of storytelling. What's even more impressive is how Altman is able to keep the intertwining servants and upper-class family members coherent and distinct. Gosford Park is the type of dense movie that requires a guidebook. Still, there wasn't one moment in the film when I felt unsure of what was happening. Based on a story idea by Altman and Bob Balaban (who also plays Hollywood movie producer Morris Weissman in the film), with a script written by Julian Fellowes, Gosford Park uses the servants as the eyes and ears of its story. Through them we begin to understand the complex web that explains the murder. For that reason alone, Altman treats his below-stairs characters more respectfully.
With an ensemble cast of typically Altmanesque proportions -- think of past Altman films like Nashville, Short Cuts and Ready to Wear -- it's disappointing that veteran actors like Derek Jacobi and Alan Bates are given very little screen time. Still, on the subject of performances, Gosford Park has more hits than misses.
Maggie Smith is comically snippy as the difficult Constance. Kelly Macdonald is utterly charming as Constance's novice maid. Her round and expressive face is the only thing in the film that qualifies as warm and gentle.
Jeremy Northam oozes smooth charm as movie idol Ivor Novello. Kristin Scott Thomas, vamping through the estate as Lady Sylvia McCordle, makes a glamorous impact with her long legs and muscular arms. I like how she walks through the film with a cool sense of propriety.
Clive Owen is appropriately shifty as Robert Parks, one of the visiting servants. Richard E. Grant and Emily Watson roll their eyes with disdainful glee as two veteran members of the Gosford Park staff. Only Ryan Phillippe, as Morris Weissman's valet, stumbles his way through the film. By comparison, everyone else is relaxed, fresh and utterly believable.
The heart and soul of Gosford Park belongs to Helen Mirren's crabby Mrs. Wilson, the head housekeeper. For most of the film, she comes off as a somber woman who takes her housekeeping duties too seriously. Only in the film's final moments, Mirren's most heart-wrenching scene, is Wilson revealed to be the most dynamic of all of Gosford Park's characters.
Granted, Gosford Park is not on the same footing as Altman's classic films: McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Nashville, Short Cuts, The Long Goodbye and The Player. Still, this bold and playful murder-mystery is just a notch or two below.
Altman has never before shot a film in England. So it's surprising that the picturesque country estate of Gosford Park becomes vibrant, alive and true. The servants' stairwells and quarters become character as much as anyone in the movie. Through Altman's eye, Sir William McCordle's country estate is a detailed, beautiful and worthy backdrop.
Despite its period setting, Gosford Park feels relevant and meaningful. The storytelling is serious and substantial. Shot in an impromptu style with Altman randomly gathering dialogue and actions through two mobile cameras, Gosford Park has more than its share of authentic moments. For this reason alone, Gosford Park must be considered a director's film.
The one irony is that Gosford Park has all the lush detail and epic setting of a Golden Age Hollywood production. In terms of its story, there is nothing anti-Hollywood about it. For Altman, an anti-Hollywood maverick, Gosford Park hints at the type of movies he could be making in a Hollywood willing to step away from popcorn sensibilities.
Recently, I thought of Altman as one of the last auteurs, a film artist whose most important work remained in the distant past. I didn't care for his most recent films, the deep-South comedy, Cookie's Fortune, or the unfunny male fantasy, Dr. T & the Women.
With Gosford Park, Altman proves he's still capable of a few surprises. Once again, I'm excited about what Altman might do next. Trust me: Very few working directors give me that kind of sweaty-palmed anticipation. I'm glad Altman has a few tricks left.
CityBeat grade: B.
