The Cap’n and I recently revisited one of our favorite movies, “Gosford Park” (2001). Written by Julian Fellowes, it is the only Robert Altman-directed film I like. True to Altman form, it’s packed with stars (Maggie Smith, Helen Mirren, Alan Bates, Derek Jacobi, Kristin Scott Thomas, Clive Owen, Stephen Fry, Sophie Thompson, Tom Hollander, Emily Watson, Jeremy Northam, Eileen Atkins, and I could go on), and has nearly a dozen plot lines working simultaneously. Unlike most Altman films, though, the separate plot lines are tightly interwoven rather than frayed and dangling, and its exploration of the lives of the characters is layered not only by personality and the relationships between characters, but also by the upstairs-downstairs dichotomy that exists in this story of a shooting party that takes place at Sir William McCordle’s country home (the title of the film). When Sir William is murdered twice, hardly anyone cares for the deceased man and the list of suspects—i.e. those who have a clear motive—is long. But is the list complete?
I won’t give it away in case any of you wish to see it. I highly recommend it for a glimpse into the world of masters and servants that is less idyllic than that of the BBC series “Upstairs Downstairs” and more nuanced in the connections between masters and servants than that of the 1993 Merchant-Ivory film, “The Remains of the Day.” Exhaustively researched, I enjoyed seeing the special features about the ex-servants who acted as consultants on the film nearly as much as the film itself. I also recommend using subtitles to catch every word, since many comments are made sotto voce and some words and expressions are hard to catch.
Fellowes’s writing captures the cynicism, the bitterness, and the snobbishness of his characters beautifully. Among my favorite speeches is Elsie’s (the head housemaid) who, after spending several minutes gossiping with one of the visiting ladies’ maids, says “Oh, just listen to me. Why do we spend our lives living through them? I mean look at poor old Lewis. If her own mother had a heart attack, she’d think it was less important than one of Lady Sylvia’s farts.” The toffee-nosed (but penniless) Lady Trentham’s cattiness comes through in her observations about another guest who appears in the same dress on the third evening of the party: “Mabel is so clever to travel light. Why should one wear a different frock every evening? We’re not in a fashion parade. …Difficult color, green. Very tricky.” And the housekeeper Mrs. Wilson’s speech sums up my job as a mother: “What gift do you think a good servant has that separates him from the others? It’s the gift of anticipation. And I’m a good servant. I’m better than good—I’m the best. I’m the perfect servant. I know when they’ll be hungry and the food is ready. I know when they’ll be tired, and the bed is turned down. I know it before they know it themselves.”
Shimshonit 
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