Gosford Park

Due to his particular directorial technique, and the extent to which he relies in improvisation, Robert Altman films tend to fall into two distinct categories - the rather good, and the unforgiveably awful. Gosford Park, fortunately, is one of the former.

With a stellar cast which makes superb use of a wide range of different acting skills and styles, it focuses on character and circumstance rather than on its essential plot, the murder of a wealthy man during a party at his eponymous estate, and it is none the weaker for this. Maggie Smith, at once both subtle and extravagant, is wonderful as always, though, contrary to the reports of Film Review's critic, she does not "literally bring the house down with each line"; a mercy, since they only had one house in which to shoot, and it appeared to be a rather expensive one at that. Other shooting is done outside the house, with unfortunate consequences for assorted game birds, but the primary focus is on conversation: small talk, gossip and intrigue, turning surprisingly bitter surprisingly fast, long before the central crime has been committed.

Stephen Fry, sadly, is atrociously miscast as the bumbling inspector brought in to try and identify the murderer; he seems to think he's appearing in an entirely different film.

The use of American outsiders as a means of introducing the audience to the complexities of the Thirties English class system is nicely handled, but is never really tied up at the end, leaving several intriguing personal stories just hanging.

Despite its length and the vaguaries of its plot, the film is not overlong, but not all of its component parts proceed at the same pace, so that some seem rushed in conclusion and others are simply abandoned. Nevertheless, this is a roundly enjoyable piece: witty, emotive, and slyly perceptive.