Like many Altman ensemble pieces, the real story of Gosford Park is found less in the actual plot than in the minute conversations that fill up the space around it. A film about English class structure in the 1930s, the murder mystery being played up in the film’s ads is merely a handy way to bring Altman’s message to a climax. A veritable who’s who of the British acting world, with a few American faces thrown in, Gosford Park is exquisitely written, impeccably acted and Altman’s best work in almost a decade.

Set in a lush English country mansion, the film is a constant swirl of mingling personalities. Nobles and elites of varying rank populate the upper levels of the house, passing gossip about each other and trying hard to fight their ennui while below in the mansion’s bowels reside their many retainers. The help also pass gossip, but about their masters, not each other. They are able only to experience life through their employers and it affects them each on a different level.

Choosing the 1930s to tell this story is a brilliant choice on Altman and screenwriter Julian Fellowes’ part. The period between the World Wars found England going through profound societal changes, with the class system going from being British society to becoming only one facet of a modern Western civilization. Everywhere in the film there are signs that things are changing. The newer maids and valets aren’t as familiar with the rules that constitute the very lives of the more experienced help; at Gosford Park, many are shocked to discover that they are to go by the name of their employer instead of their own. Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper, acknowledges these arcane rules are “the old way”, ostensibly to avoid confusion as to who is employed by whom. Also, the presence of an American filmmaker as one of the houseguests nicely represents the “new way”, with America’s history of renouncing the class system a constant reminder on his befuddled face.

With the number of characters sharing the screen (I count fourteen upstairs and over twenty downstairs), there is simply not enough time to give each of them room to develop. Altman’s spends the film’s first fifteen minutes just letting everyone arrive and get settled in, giving you the viewer the feeling of watching a party from an upstairs balcony; you catch a snippet of conversation here and there, but never enough to feel like a part of the fun. As with all of his ensemble pieces, it is only with time that the viewer gradually warms up to certain characters such as caustic old Countess of Trentham, masterfully played by Maggie Smith, or George the Footman, played by Richard E. Grant with his long ago-perfected sneer. But, certain characters do remain in the background from start to finish, never really establishing anything about their personality. It can be quite startling to see a face two hours into the film and realize you have absolutely no idea who she is, but that Altman succeeds in getting a large majority of his characters’ troubles across at all is a sign of his talents.

The mansion itself, showcased by cinematographer Andrew Dunn, is used nicely as a conduit between the two classes. Servants found upstairs without reason are swiftly reminded that their “place is downstairs”. That they are frequently admonished not by a Lord but by another staff member shows how ingrained these rules were. Of course the societal constraints of the upper class always meant that a Duke or Countess would often secretly mingle with the underlings, just to have something exciting in his/her life. Thus the stairs become a way for the nobles to get away from what they too clearly see as a dreadful way of living.

Altman’s ability to raise an A-list cast for little money obviously continues with no trouble in Gosford Park. Sir Derek Jacobi, Emily Watson, Helen Mirren, Kristen Scott Thomas, Richard E. Grant, Clive Owen, Maggie Smith, Michael Gambon, Jeremy Northam, Alan Bates, Bob Balaban, Ryan Philippe and Stephen Fry all do impressive work with little screen time to develop their characters (even Philippe doesn’t embarrass himself), with Smith and Mirren in particular doing just wonderful work as an old Countess tired of formality and a housekeeper determined to be the perfect product of her place in society respectively. My mind still reeling from watching the impressive ensemble of The Royal Tenenbaums, watching this many outstanding actors in one film was almost too much to absorb.

Oh, Gosford Park is a murder mystery. There is so much going on in the film that it is easy to forget. The death brings an inspector and his trusty constable to the house in one of the few sequences that don’t work. A running joke that no one cares what the inspector’s name is, never allowing him to finish introducing himself gets tired even as it has only begun, but his presence serves to gel the film’s message. He interviews the houseguests and some of the senior house staff, but never truly considers any of the downstairs residents as being the possible murderers. Why? Because he simply can’t believe that they would dare. They are after all, just the servants. As to the actual identity of the murderer, it is revealed in the end, with a well acted but unneeded bit of melodrama, but it is truly unimportant. The film has fittingly been described as a whydunit instead of a whodunit, and truly it is. The actions of the victim, which lead to his/her death, are much more important than the killer. Because those actions break the rules of the classes, and in a way, death is fitting.

Grade: A-

Tim Chandler

With his new film writer/director Wes Anderson confirms for good that he knows what makes families tick. The Royal Tenenbaums is a subtly funny, occasionally devastating look at the relationships between siblings, parents and family friends that abound in every home in America, from the strongest to the most dysfunctional. It is an emotional film, with material too well written to be purely fictional, and one wonders what skeletons Anderson has in his own closet.

For the Tenenbaum family, most of their problems stem from Royal (Gene Hackman), a father with no parenting skills and a complete lack of sentimentality. His three children become child prodigies despite his lack of efforts, thanks to their mother Ethilene’s (Anjelica Huston) keen interest in their educations. Royal’s version of parenting consists of taking his youngest son Richie to dogfights and gambling. He is so brutally oblivious to the normal ways of fathering that he introduces his adopted daughter Margot as “my daughter Margot… she’s adopted, she’s not my real daughter.”

Emotionally damaged characters always populate Wes Anderson’s films and the Tenenbaum family is full of them. Royal grows apart from his family and leaves them in Ethilene’s care. She alone watches her children grow up and one by one leave the family home. Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow), a playwright by age ten, winds up a morose recluse married to much older neurologist Raleigh St. Clair (Bill Murray) who she spends her days soaking in the tub and watching television. Richie (Luke Wilson), three years the Junior U.S. Open Champ, has a catastrophic game on the court and winds up sailing around the world. And Chas (Ben Stiller), a business genius, expropriates the family home from Royal. His life goes smoothly until his wife dies in a plane crash, leaving him with two young boys and an obsession about safety.

All of them are thrown back together when Royal returns after years of seclusion, revealing that he has cancer and is dying. It provides him with the chance to make amends for his mistakes, and the others to find ways to come to terms with their family’s problems. They are all joined by Eli Cash (Owen Wilson), a family friend who grew up across the street, Robert Sherman (Danny Glover), the family accountant, and Raleigh St. Clair. Every single pent-up emotion eventually comes to the fore, and we learn an incredible amount about what made these people the way they are.

While weighty, the story contains writing duo Anderson and Owen Wilson’s trademark wit, found not so much in actions or situations, but in the strong performances of the cast. Hackman makes Royal simultaneously an abomination of a father and a man with a real desire to fix his mistakes. His every smirk and grin is perfect, marking one of his finest performances ever. Stiller, Paltrow and Wilson are all wonderful as Royal’s grown-up children, representing rage, emptiness and desire respectively. And Anjelica Huston does a marvelous job while having relatively little to do.

Royal’s name is the key to the whole film. The Tenenbaums live in a giant house filled with plush carpets, heirlooms everywhere, and incredibly red wallpaper. Everything about the film, from its fantastic costumes to its colourful cinematography, is larger than life. The Tenenbaums indeed seem like a royal family, living a life few others do. Their stature seems so grand, despite their flaws, that next-door neighbour Eli, grown up and successful on his own, would still do anything to be a Tenenbaum.

The Royal Tenenbaums marks another success for director Wes Anderson. His unique style, which involves using an immense number of props, backgrounds, and colour schemes to highlight the mood of a scene is once again showcased in a film a cut above the Hollywood norm. He is a true rising star in the cinematic world, and one can only hope that the massive star power of his cast here shows that Hollywood is deservedly paying attention.

Tim Chandler