Gosford Park

GOSFORD PARK

Rating: B-

Summary: Satire that hits the mark, but the plot is underdeveloped.

If the thought of upper crust men and women in 1930's clothing exchanging dinner conversation in English accents doesn't exactly set your pulse racing, we've got something in common. Throw in a murder, and some occasionally humorous barbs, and the proceedings become a little more delectable. However, Robert Altman's latest satirical comedy never fully escapes the blandness of its subject matter. And, as the saying goes, after all is said and done, a lot more is said than done.

The setting is the mansion of a wealthy despot (Michael Gambon), who invites a small army of guests to the English countryside for a few days of pheasant hunting. Among the more colorful characters in attendance are his snobby wife (Kristin Scott Thomas), an elderly spinster (Maggie Smith), and her maidservant (Kelly Mcdonald). Mcdonald is the closest thing to a protagonist you'll find in the movie, as we follow her interactions with both the aristocrats and their servants. Notable among the others are Ryan Phillippe as the valet to a Hollywood producer (Bob Balaban), Emily Watson as the head housemaid, and Clive Owen (remember The Croupier?) as a valet with an abrupt manner and a mysterious past.

Much of the film's charm lies in the satirical skewering afforded upper class manners and pretentions. When prodded for the story of his next film, Balaban complains it will spoil the surprise. Thomas replies, "Don't worry. None of us will see it." Later, she dons a gray fox stole that's supposed to be glamorous, but that looks so ridiculous it evokes laughter from the audience. And so on. Amid the jokes, we're given glimpses of the lives of the servants. Not only are they depersonalized by their employers, but in their own eyes as well. It's biting commentary, but Altman presents it so skillfully it doesn't seem like preaching.

One of the problems with this movie is its enormous cast of characters. It's extremely difficult to keep straight who's who. Many times, characters discuss others who aren't present in the room, so there are no faces to associate with the names, and we're left guessing as to whom they're referring. Films in the past have dealt with this problem by showing the person onscreen as their name is mentioned. It may seem slightly artificial, but it's a technique that works, and it sure would have helped matters here.

The major problem, however, is the murder itself. It doesn't occur until a full ninety minutes into the movie, which is about forty-five minutes too late for my tastes. You'd think after the Pearl Harbor disaster (the movie, not the attack), directors would've learned that in order for a movie to be interesting, something actually has to be happening. I realize this is a radical concept. Altman apparently never bothered to see Pearl Harbor, and thus was condemned to repeat its mistakes. Anyway, because the murder occurs so late, there's little time to flesh out its solution, so we're left with two scenes where the murder and its motives are spoon fed to us in some very artificial and overly expository dialogue. Abandon all hope of sifting through the clues and figuring it out ahead of time - it ain't gonna happen because we're not given enough information. And because the murder occurs so late, Stephen Fry's daffy police inspector isn't allowed much screen time. Although his character is nothing new, his scenes are some of the funniest in the film.

When Altman reads this review (not if, but when), I can imagine him replying with something like, "The murder was only of minor importance. The movie was really about the hypocrisy of the upper class, and the disenfranchisement of the servants beneath them." To which I would respond, "Okay, but it would have been a better film if it worked as well on the level of a murder mystery as it does as social commentary." So there.