|
A
lot of folks are saying Robert Altman's Gosford Park is
his best film since Short Cuts, a backhanded compliment
if ever there was one. After
nabbing back-to-back Oscar nominations for directing The
Player and Cuts in the early '90s, Altman has strung
together an impressive collection of flops, including Ready
To Wear, Kansas City, The Gingerbread Man, Cookie's
Fortune and Dr. T & the Women. With Park,
he's furiously struggling to return to the ensemble pieces that
made him a cinematic big shot.
Set
in November 1932, Park is, I think, supposed to be a
cross between Upstairs, Downstairs (a 1971 British
miniseries that literally bored 57 people to death when it aired
in the U.S. in 1974) and an Agatha Christie murder-mystery, but
instead comes off as a stuffy yet refined version of Clue.
Here, 165 Eaton Place has been replaced by Gosford Park,
a sprawling country estate just outside London that serves as
the film's setting. Park
unfolds over one weekend, where a hunting party is being thrown
by Sir William McCordle (Michael Gambon, Sleepy
Hollow) and his formerly indigent wife, Lady Sylvia
(Kristin Scott Thomas, Life As a
House).
All but one attendee
of the party (and there are about a dozen) bring their own maid
or valet, who join Gosford's regular crew of servants, of which
there are over 20. Do
the math – that's around 50 characters, and each one factors
into Park's story in one way or another.
Trying to describe even half of them would be fruitless.
Altman spends the first part of the film trying to flesh
out each character, but there are just too many people on which
to keep tabs (indeed, Park may be better suited for
multiple viewings). It
seems Altman hired every British actor who wasn't involved in
either Harry Potter or Attack
of the Clones (and, actually, some who were).
At
the halfway mark, there's a murder during a particularly
well-done series of scenes in which entertainer Ivor Novello
(Jeremy Northam, Happy, Texas)
performs five songs on the piano.
It's a great moment, effectively capturing the
disinterest of the people for whom Novello is performing, while,
unseen, the wait staff enjoys a rare opportunity to hear a
popular singer give an intimate recital.
Novello's
American pal, Hollywood producer Morris Weissman (Bob Balaban, The
Mexican), is about to begin filming Charlie Chan in
London, which, coincidentally, is about a big dinner party
where a murder occurs. Like the situation at Gosford, everyone
in the Chan film has a motive and each is a suspect.
Park's decent laughs come as a police inspector
(Stephen Fry) and his constable sidekick (Ron Webster) begin
investigating the murder, which plays out like a clueless,
bumbling Holmes brushing off the insightful detective work of
his disregarded Watson.
There
are some interesting things happening in Park, most
notably the clashes between servant and aristocrat, as well as
man and woman. There
is a hierarchy and rigid protocol for everyone among both the
upstairs and downstairs people, which is kind of fascinating.
And Altman does a nifty trick where he'll only show
conversations between upstairs folk if there's a servant within
earshot.
Park
was conceived by Altman and Balaban but written by Julian
Fellowes, an actor from the BBC's Monarch of the Glen who
has never written a feature screenplay...and it shows.
The sheer number of characters severely limits the
potential enjoyment of the film, even when they're played by
some of the U.K.'s biggest stars (including Maggie Smith, Emily
Watson, Helen Mirren, Clive Owen and Kelly Macdonald).
When you get this many quality actors together, you're
going to have a problem with them trying to steal scenes from
each other. And
then there's the little glitch with the satire, which, last time
I checked, was supposed to generate more than three laughs.
| 2:17
– |
 |
for
some language and brief sexuality |
|
