I can understand why many people might not like it at all: it's a bit obscure, hard to follow, and the plot is as foggy as it is in many other Altman movies. That having been said, I loved this film, and think it's one of the best Altman films. It's interesting that a murder mystery set in a British country house shares a lot with one of Altman's first movies, M*A*S*H, set in Korea in a different time: all the comments above also apply to the early movie as well.
In Gosford Park, it becomes clear that the plot's not the thing; if anything, it's a bit of a distraction. A group of relatives and friends - well, acquaintances, at any rate - gather in a for a weekend of shooting and socializing; somebody ends up dead, we find out whodunnit, everyone leaves. How common is that? But the point isn't the murder; it's, among other things, the tensions created by the class/caste system at that time, the hostility masked by the manners exhibited by the upper classes, the subtle (and not-so-subtle) insults and barbs thrown around, and (it seems to me) the constant tension created by an environment of huge disparities of income.
Kind of like Dallas on any Sunday.
Visually, the film is a complete treat; the cinematography is superb. Sonically, non-Altman fans (and myself) will complain that much of the dialogue is obscured and fragmented. This is completely deliberate; I got the DVD and turned on the subtitles and got quite a bit more out of the third viewing. But - and this is what makes both this (and M*A*S*H, and McCabe and Mrs. Miller) really a masterpiece - even though you don't get every word, suddenly you realize that you know exactly what's going on. Altman's ability to get this across to the audience in spite of the difficulty of understanding the details is what makes him a master.
Finally, the one thing I really disliked about this movie is that, in the end, you realize that these people, all of them, really don't care for each other at all. Some of them hate each other, others just don't care for each other, but there's so little, or none, real affection shown in the movie that it's a bit absurd and mannered.
High points: every moment on screen with Helen Mirren in it. She just crackles. Recall that she and Michael Gambon were also in "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover", with him playing a younger and louder version of the same role.
Every moment that Jeremy Irons is singing, indeed, every moment he's onscreen.
And of course, Maggie Smith, who just licks up her part like a purring, nasty, housecat lapping up cream; she steals every scene she's in and you know she knows it. Her comments to Ivor Novello (Jeremy Irons): "What is it like, you know, when a movie just kind of flops? It must be so difficult" so venomous, and delivered with such faux sympathy - defines her to at T.
As I said, not everyone's poisoned cup of tea.
In Gosford Park, it becomes clear that the plot's not the thing; if anything, it's a bit of a distraction. A group of relatives and friends - well, acquaintances, at any rate - gather in a for a weekend of shooting and socializing; somebody ends up dead, we find out whodunnit, everyone leaves. How common is that? But the point isn't the murder; it's, among other things, the tensions created by the class/caste system at that time, the hostility masked by the manners exhibited by the upper classes, the subtle (and not-so-subtle) insults and barbs thrown around, and (it seems to me) the constant tension created by an environment of huge disparities of income.
Kind of like Dallas on any Sunday.
Visually, the film is a complete treat; the cinematography is superb. Sonically, non-Altman fans (and myself) will complain that much of the dialogue is obscured and fragmented. This is completely deliberate; I got the DVD and turned on the subtitles and got quite a bit more out of the third viewing. But - and this is what makes both this (and M*A*S*H, and McCabe and Mrs. Miller) really a masterpiece - even though you don't get every word, suddenly you realize that you know exactly what's going on. Altman's ability to get this across to the audience in spite of the difficulty of understanding the details is what makes him a master.
Finally, the one thing I really disliked about this movie is that, in the end, you realize that these people, all of them, really don't care for each other at all. Some of them hate each other, others just don't care for each other, but there's so little, or none, real affection shown in the movie that it's a bit absurd and mannered.
High points: every moment on screen with Helen Mirren in it. She just crackles. Recall that she and Michael Gambon were also in "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover", with him playing a younger and louder version of the same role.
Every moment that Jeremy Irons is singing, indeed, every moment he's onscreen.
And of course, Maggie Smith, who just licks up her part like a purring, nasty, housecat lapping up cream; she steals every scene she's in and you know she knows it. Her comments to Ivor Novello (Jeremy Irons): "What is it like, you know, when a movie just kind of flops? It must be so difficult" so venomous, and delivered with such faux sympathy - defines her to at T.
As I said, not everyone's poisoned cup of tea.