GOSFORD PARK: Blu-ray (USA Films, 2001) Arrow Academy

In retrospect, Robert Altman’s Gosford Park (2001) seems like a dry run for Julian Fellowes’ BBC zeitgeist, Downton Abbey (2010-2016); the assortment of stuffy and nimble-minded English aristocrats, gathered together for an exclusive hunting party at a decaying country estate, thematically delicious, even as a refreshed retread of the ole ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ ilk with a dash of Agatha Christie thrown in for good measure; the cast, headlined by some heavy hitters, including Maggie Smith, Charles Dance, Kristen Scott Thomas, Jeremy Northam, Helen Mirren, Clive Owen and Emily Watson (to name but a handful). Lampooning England’s idle rich has become something of a habit with Dame Maggie Smith, one of the most formidable actresses of her generation and an enduring pop icon on both sides of the Atlantic. And Gosford Park is a throwback to the days when solid storytelling reigned supreme as a main staple in an industry ever-drowning in its escalating tedium for anesthetizing digital effects. Gosford Park ought to have been the Best Picture of 2001; the Oscar instead going to Ridley Scott’s Gladiator. In retrospect, it is difficult to argue against this decision, as Scott’s toga-fest also wisely chose to anchor the grand Roman epic on the intimacy of its characters. Gosford Park is a more subdued experience – more ‘English’ in the great tradition of vintage forties’ drawing room whodunits; Altman’s richly textured mélange of merriment and mirth, luxurious as his penchant for overlapping dialogue. You really have to pay attention to the machinations unfolding in Gosford Park to fully appreciate its intensity. Altman illustrates much, but never just gives anything away. Nevertheless, in this woeful age of ever-shorter attention spans, Altman’s pic commands our attention, not only for a basic understanding of the plot – expertly scripted by Fellowes – but for its electrically-charged exchanges of sparkling dialogue that stir up our admiration for those bygone days of courtly, seemingly imperishable British melodrama. 

Altman’s penultimate ‘great’ movie (he died in 2006) is both a testament to his film maker’s acumen as well as a deeply rewarding tapestry of truly magnetic performances. This stately landscape is populated in a potpourri of schemers, each to fully realize his/her hidden agendas before the final fade out; Altman, dispensing with the hoity-toity-ness of the upper crust with self-effacing bits of raucously understated and barb-laden farce. There is so much going on here. Indeed, one trip to Gosford Park is not nearly enough to absorb all its carefully concocted latitude with the appreciation it deserves. Initially based on nothing more than an idea by Altman and producer/co-star, Bob Balaban, the final screenplay by Julian Fellowes teems with intriguing insincerity. On the surface, the plot is a ‘locked room’ murder mystery a la Agatha Christie. However, Fellowes’ clever interpretation of this time-honored genre steadily grows into a shrewder investigation of England’s caste system, and, an even more fascinating glimpse into the last gasp of its dying establishment, chiefly interpreted from the perspectives of its servant class. As example: it is very telling that the victim of this clever killing is an aristocrat, snuffed out by someone from its lowest strata; the crime, destined to go unpunished because the namby-pamby mid-tier Scotland Yard inspector (Stephen Fry) brought in to investigate the homicide is a bumbling idiot of the ole Sherlock Holmes/Inspector Lestrade stripe. Even more telling is the film’s finale; the grand ‘lady’ and remorseless widow of the maison, Lady Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas), electing to shutter the property for a gayer social life in London.

Gosford Park reaches all the way back to England’s fading era of gentility like a fragrant – if dying – last rose of summer; with its emphasis on the perpetually rain-soaked agrarian landscape and that daft bunch of boobies who lack a farmer’s appreciation for the land and, as such, have yet to realize their cultured lives are about to change forever; and not in a way as to favor their class in future generations. Julian Fellowes’ screenplay is mercilessly cynical, yet full of bright pockets of comedy, a seamless blend of history, drama and politics. A lesser writer would have merely concentrated on the crime and its inevitable denouement. To be sure, the cliffhanger revelation as to ‘who’ actually done it – and (more intriguingly) why – is as potent and shocking as one might expect. But it isn’t entirely the focus of this story. Nor do all of the plot entanglements hang on its fitting conclusion. This is quite a mercy too, as Fellowes, like Altman, is far more fascinated in people than plot. Surely, we need the latter to make any good movie click as it should. But Altman understands the rudimentary A,B,C’s of action, enough to occasionally set them aside and still maintain our interest in the intricacies of these fettered and faulty lives. Indeed, getting to know each character intimately make up the better half of Gosford Park’s run time. Yet, apart from filling up minutes, Altman’s top-heavy character analyses never devolves into ‘mere padding’. Instead, Altman’s padding is owed to production designer, Steven Altman and cinematographer, Andrew Dunn, who set the mood, eerily to creak with more than a hint of the inevitable moth-balling of this ancient civilization where manners dictate action and action alone seems straight-jacketed by the indecisively haughty and exclusive.  Gosford Park is, above all else, a snapshot of the character of English society – high, as well as low born. As Altman is certainly aware American audiences need a little more ‘oomph’ to sweeten this deal, he and Fellowes interject a murder. But it is hardly the modus operandi for this tale.

Yet, if anything, their setup to the actual killing is far more suiting; above all, the nascent amity between knowing upstairs maid, Elsie (Emily Watson), having a thing with the lord of the manor, Sir William McCordle (Michael Gambon) and guileless visiting lady’s maid, Mary Maceachran (Kelly MacDonald), privy to all sorts of eye-opening incidents during her brief stay. These include an unrequited affection for the suspected would-be murderer, Robert Parks (Clive Owen) – if only his mother, self-professed ‘perfect servant’ and head house keeper, Mrs. Wilson (Helen Mirren) had not beat her estranged son to his dark purpose by poisoning McCordle’s scotch. Hence, the wily old bugger was already dead by the time Parks managed to plunge his stolen kitchen knife into the cadaver. The motivations behind this deceitful retribution bear more consideration. And Altman delivers the goods. Yet, he quietly passes over the particulars, his ingenious disregard for the dramatic ‘big reveal’ allowing the audience to piece together the more subversive ‘tragic’ nuggets that will ultimately generate far greater satisfaction once the houselights have come up. 

Gosford Park begins with Lady Constance Trentham’s (Maggie Smith) antiquated preparations for attending a lavish weekend retreat at the home of her cousin, Sir William McCordle (Michael Gambon); her umbrella-toting butler played to perfection by Frank Thornton (instantly recognizable to fans as Capt. Peacock from the British TV sitcom, Are You Being Served?). Constance is an amiable fussbudget, relying on McCordle’s kindness for the allowance she lives off while quietly detesting the company he keeps and suffering from a general world-weariness for country life and sports. Her lady’s maid, Mary Maceachran is an awkward young girl, green in the ways of life, and never entirely able to keep up with Constance’s ever-evolving demands. Her inexperience does come with a singular virtue. She is cheap to employ.  On the road to William’s estate, Constance meets Sir William’s cousin, famed silent movie star, Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam), traveling to the same destination with American film producer, Morris Weissman (Bob Balaban) and his presumably, Scottish valet, Henry Denton (Ryan Phillippe). True in her contempt for those who work for a living, Constance is curt rather than cordial, expediting their roadside conversation by urging her driver on to William’s country lodgings.

There, the entourage is met by William’s venomous wife, Lady Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas); self-indulgent and bored, carrying on a quiet flirtation with Lord Raymond Stockbridge (Charles Dance). Meanwhile, Raymond’s wife, Louisa (Geraldine Somerville) is having a full-blown affair with William. At the same time, William is involved with his upstairs maid, Elsie (Emily Watson) – very chummy, indeed. The rest of William’s guest list is a who’s who of the well-to-do; desperate, financially strapped Anthony (Tom Hollander) and his understanding wife, Lavinia Meredith (Natasha Wightman); money-hungry schemer, Freddie Nesbitt (James Wilby), blackmailing William’s daughter, Isobel (Camilla Rutherford) over an affair they had that resulted in her pregnancy and subsequent secret abortion; Freddie’s innocent and put upon, if empathetic frump of a wife, Mabel (Claudie Blakley) and, as already mentioned, British film star, Ivor Novello. Interesting, that Altman should interject a real-life figure into his popular entertainment. Indeed, Novello was one of Britain’s most dashing matinee idols. Constance easily diffuses his importance as a self-made man by referring to his appearance in Hitchcock’s The Lodger (1927): a miserable flop then. Later, she discounts Morris Weissman’s contributions to American cinema (as the producer of the Charlie Chan murder mysteries) by inquiring about the details of the plot of his latest project. “Oh, I couldn’t tell you that,” Weissman suggests, “It would ruin it for you.” “Oh,” Constance drolly replies, “But none of us will see it.”

The well-oiled cordiality of these early scenes is contrasted with the unmitigated chaos unfolding below stairs; the arrival of Robert Parks, valet to Lord Stockbridge, unwittingly to deliver a revelation to unsettle Mrs. Wilson. It seems decades earlier, she engaged in an affair with McCordle and became pregnant; giving up the child to a local orphanage on William’s promise he would see the boy was adopted into a ‘good home’. This never happened.  But the child – now a man – continues to carry a faded portrait of Mrs. Wilson in the full bloom of her youth by his bedside. Nevertheless, he fails to recognize his own mother now, the woman who gave him up merely to hold on to her position in McCordle’s household. Inevitably, Mrs. Wilson’s decision did not sit well with her sister, Mrs. Croft (Eileen Atkins) who began her career as a cook in one of Sir William’s factories but now manages the kitchen staff at his country estate, and, who ultimately lost her own legitimately-born son in the great war.

Below stairs is managed by Jennings (Alan Bates), who harbors a deep secret about the war but outwardly is the soul of stern and clear-eyed decorum. As the guests retire to their private rooms for the first evening’s rest in this great house, Henry Denton skulks off to explore his surroundings. He is met in the corridor by Lady Sylvia who wastes no time tempting the young buck with the promise of a casual weekend affair. Returning to Morris’ suite to capitulate, we quickly learn Denton is not a valet, but rather Weissman’s bi-curious lover; resisting Morris’ advances to return to Sylvia’s room with a glass of hot milk to arrest her nerves. The next day, William gathers everyone for the shooting party. The sportsmen hunt wild pheasant while Morris looks on; everyone reunited at the semi-circular stone portico for an appetizing brunch. In the meantime, the ladies have occupied themselves with more intimate confessions; Lavinia explaining to Constance her dire financial circumstances and Anthony’s desperation to engage William in a scheme to procure some quick cash. At the same time, Freddie threatens Isobel with exposure of her checkered past, and Mabel, begins to suspect her husband’s infidelity.

At the subsequent dinner, Sylvia tests William’s patience, deliberately goading him about his failure to partake in the war as a soldier. Unable to hold her tongue, Elsie attempts to set the record straight, catching herself in the moment but inadvertently revealing too much about her own intimacies with the master of the house. This, of course, infuriates William, but gravely amuses several of the other guests as the elephant in the room – William’s randy ways – known, but never addressed for decades, have finally caught up with him. Surely, Sylvia will have grounds for a separation now. The revelation also causes Elsie to lose her job. An angry William retreats to the study, ordering a large bottle of scotch from his ever-devoted man, Probert (Derek Jacobi). Instead, Mrs. Wilson prepares his drink before being ordered from the room. In the adjacent lounge, the others gather to play cards, chat and listen to Ivor Novello warble a few popular tunes at the piano. Morris is thrilled to garner all of this backstory for his Charlie Chan picture, but privately inquires how on earth Ivor could tolerate ‘these people’ and why he should be so accommodating to entertain them now. “How else do you think you received your invitation?” Ivor quietly explains.

Below stairs, Mrs. Croft allows her staff a respite from their chores to listen to the echoes of Ivor’s singing. However, something is afoot – a flagrante delicto between Isobel’s enterprising suitor, Rupert Standish (Laurence Fox) and one of the kitchen maids, Ellen (Sarah Flind); discovered later by head footman, George (Richard E. Grant). Alas, Mary has lost track of Robert Parks. Previously, he had chivalrously saved her from being raped by Henry after his failed seduction by Sylvia came to not. But now, Robert seems to have vanished into thin air. We see a pair of gloved hands remove a kitchen knife from a wood pile out back; Altman giving us the lay of the land with all the usual suspects strategically placed as a shadowy figure enters Sir William’s private library and, discovering him seemingly napping in his chair, reaches from behind to plunge the knife into his chest. In the adjacent lounge, Sylvia is comforted by Louisa, who offers to coax William out of his self-imposed exile. She inadvertently discovers his corpse instead; her screams drawing the entire household into the study. Sylvia sends for Scotland Yard; Inspector Thompson (Stephen Fry) and Constable Dexter (Ron Webster) badly mangling the whole investigation – immediately alienating themselves from the upper crust while staunchly refusing to interview the servant class. The only real interest, so it would seem, is in the people who actually ‘knew’ the man, or at least, so Inspector Thompson hypothesizes.

Yet, only a day later, Thompson concludes that the crime was committed by an unknown intruder. Below stairs, we learn several truths about our eclectic ensemble from the servant class. Elsie wistfully prepares to leaves. Perhaps, she will find work ‘in service’ yet again.  Mrs. Croft comforts her sister, who is heartbroken at still being unable to reveal her true identity to her only child. As the guests prepare to return to their own homes, Mary confronts Robert Parks. “Can’t a man hate his own father?” he coolly confides in her, revealing his true identity. But did Robert actually kill William? Next, Mary attempts to explain her anxious discovery to Mrs. Wilson. Herein, both she and the audience unearth the truth. At last unable to withhold her bitter contempt for this man who betrayed her love and their son’s future, merely to save his own face, Mrs. Wilson poisoned William in the event Robert was found out; hence, no charges can ever be pressed against him. There is, after all, no law against stabbing a dead body. Armed with this knowledge, Mary recognizes the futility in sharing it with anyone else, even Constance who needlessly worries there will be an inquest. As the small entourage of automobiles drive off with the hoi poloi and their servants in tow, Ivor serenades the departure with ‘The Land That Might Have Been’ – a fitting, sad-eyed ballad, in retrospect, a foreshadowing of the fast-fading era of the English aristocracy.       

Gosford Park is a splendidly dark comedy. Julian Fellowes’ screenplay and Altman’s great gift for overlapping dialogue weave the narrative with finely conceived dramatic threads into a singularly satisfying tapestry. The characters are engaging, their motivations riveting the audience to the edge of their seats. Without any epic battles, gratuitous acts of violence, car chases or explicit sex, Gosford Park manages to crackle and scintillate as few dramedies of the modern age have. Yes, the murder is expected, but it is not the whole show and this is all to the good. Gosford Park harks to an epoch in film-making when the journey, rather than the destination, was of the utmost importance.  As such, its thrills are to be had in unearthing little nuggets of discovery; as example, the clever way Altman and Fellowes have concocted an impressive array of red herrings – including the murder itself – to tide us over. Because the screenplay is a character-driven masterpiece in which the audience gets to know each of these fictionalized archetypes far better than perhaps they even know themselves. Fellowes’ authorship serves up the one-two knockout punch. What’s here is as exhilarating as any actioner or adventure yard (more so, for those weaned on today’s steady diet of ultra-disposable junk), minus the frenetic and jarring strain or ugly camera tricks and chop-shop editing to distract and anesthetize the audience from the fact most of what is out there today is wafer-thin connect-the-dots at best. Gosford Park is a meaty – though never weighty – affair, juicily jam-packed with a succulent roster of highly skilled thespians, culled from the finest in British theater. As Bette Davis used to say, “In my day, the greatest special effect was talent.” There is so much of it on tap in Gosford Park it remains an enriching and vibrant experience.  

Well, it is about time! For decades, Gosford Park has languished on Blu-ray via Alliance Atlantis Home Video in a thoroughly lack-luster, bare-bones release that belied all of Altman’s careful planning and construction and made a virtual mockery of Andrew Dunn’s subtly nuanced cinematography. For those who suffered through this release, this newly minted re-issue from Arrow Academy is cause for great celebration. Sourced from a 2K restoration of a 4K scan, the resultant image makes valiant strides towards perfection in all regards: deeper, more vibrant colors, improved contrast, velvety rich blacks, and a quantum leap ahead in terms of sharpness and over-all image clarity.  We get 2-audio options: DTS 5.1 and PCM 2.0. As Gosford Park is primarily a dialogue-driven movie, there are very subtle differences between these tracks, with the 5.1 distinguishing itself during composer, Patrick Doyle’s gorgeous orchestral underscore, and, Jeremy Northam’s wonderful musical styling of the Ivor Novello pop songs of their day.  Now, for the goodies. Arrow has plentifully packed this disc with lots of extras: beginning with three audio commentaries: the first, new and exclusive to this release and featuring film historians, Geoff Andrew and David Thompson. Despite some solid analysis, this track pales to the second one, a holdover from Gosford Park’s DVD release and featuring Julian Fellowes. The third audio track is the most disappointing, oddly so, since it stars Altman, along with his son/production designer, Stephen, and, producer, David Levy. But it meanders and is prone to only scratching the surface.

Extras continue with the 20-minute discussion piece, ‘Executive Service’ featuring producer, Jane Barclay, who waxes with some consternation about the arduous journey Gosford Park had from page to screen. Actress Natasha Wightman gives us 10-min. recollections of co-starring as Lady Lavinia in ‘Acting Upper Class’. From 2001, Arrow re-issues ‘The Making of Gosford Park’ – a 20-min. comprehensive look at Altman at work, with snippets and sound bites from Altman, producer, David Levy, Fellowes, Helen Mirren, Michael Gambon, Jeremy Northam, Ryan Phillippe, Bob Balaban, and Kelly Macdonald. Also, previously available on the DVD, ‘The Authenticity of Gosford Park’ – running under 10-minutes and something of a snore.  Nearly a half-hour of Q&A with cast and crew, and, almost 20-minutes of deleted scenes with optional commentary are also included, along with the original theatrical trailer. Finally, Arrow’s superbly assembled 40-page booklet of stills, portraits and essays easily puts even the likes of Criterion’s efforts to shame. This is a handsomely assembled appendage, sure to delight fans and collectors alike. Bottom line: after enduring the Alliance Atlantis Blu-ray for far too long, Arrow Academy serves up one of the new millennium's unquestionable masterworks in a quality befitting its artistry. While I cannot exactly say I love Arrow’s ‘faceless’ cover art (mercifully it’s reversible), every thing else about this release is a quality affair. Bottom line: very highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

5+