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Gosford Park

I thought The Royal Tenenbaums was the best of the late-2001 films, but darned if Gosford Park isn’t nipping at its heels. I also thought that Cookie’s Fortune was Robert Altman’s best film since The Player, maybe even since M*A*S*H–it’s been a long dry spell for him, and I think his much-lauded Nashville accomplished nothing that M*A*S*H didn’t do–but by comparison with Gosford, Cookie’s Fortune feels hammy and flaccid. Gosford Park is a very satisfying and enjoyably dense film that makes the most of an excellent cast and location.

What’s not to like? Terrific actors like Emily Watson and Clive Owen grab the camera’s attention and do great work, and Maggie Smith kicks ten stories of ass. Helen Mirren comes in with a ninth-inning flourish and Stephen Fry is a riot. Richard E. Grant says little but always does something interesting. Perhaps the most remarkable thing is how the huge cast uniformly keeps themselves busy in intriguing ways, every second of the film, but they don’t upstage each other. The actors’ give and take is so natural, so seemingly effortless, that it makes you wonder why anyone makes films anywhere but England. It reminds me of Ridley Scott’s vague uneasiness working on the American production of Blade Runner, and how the crew members just weren’t servile enough–that’s not how he put it, but that was the implication. If servility means more films like Gosford Park, bring on the damn class system already. This is some wicked-fine Kool-Aid.

The story unfolds beautifully, the country-manor location is gorgeous, and the film has a tautness I don’t normally associate with Altman’s restless, wide-ranging style. I think in a sense he was hemmed in by a great script and a huge and talented cast, to the extent that he couldn’t get away with his usual glorious floundering around. He stayed focused and tight and the film just purrs.

I also suspect that part of its glow comes from the setting, the genteel Britishness of the whole thing. It comes off as a class act, in more ways than one. Somehow, watching aristocratic Englishmen hob-nob feels more credible and respectable than the cheerful small-town clowning of my beloved Cookie’s Fortune. I fear we Americans will always be enamored with proper British society in a way that ensures numerous U.K. actors can continue cashing their paychecks for decades to come.

In any event, I loved Gosford Park and am eager to see it again.