Gosford Parki is, in a shocking break with USian tradition, reasonably well researched. This isn't to say one's safe from the occasional nicks and grazes here and thereii and, of course, the endless marmalade of socialist perspectives, vantages and points of viewiii spread thickly over all things. If you can make it through the spurious if incessant "servant in the rain seen from a position level with said servant's eyes" hectoringiv it won't be absurd anachronism or glaring inadequacy of the usual sort that deter you, eitherv.
What, then ? I don't know, shit's pretty boring, for one thing. Nobody cares, nobody can be brought to care, and that profoundly disinteresting starlet they kept pushing for these things isn't helping anything. I don't think the very people depicted could be enticed to watch this themselves, not anymore than they could be enticed to personally go through security camera footage, it's just... can you imagine prurience without any itchingvi ? A mosquito without the stinger comes to a very discreet fly that doesn't even manage to annoy, the species probably exists but hasn't yet been mentioned anywhere for lack of reason. Who cares, and why would they ?!
Nobody, absolutely nobody, which'd really made a much better title for the entire production : The Nobody Cares Files, part
elided for brevity.
- 2001, by Robert Altman, with nobody, really. [↩]
- Chief among which, the impossibly impudent West Coast manner of moving out of conversations bodily and with no warning, something not done then nor even to this very day, not in England proper nor at the periphery -- you will hear a "con permiso" at the very least, even from the sort of aboriginal plebs that never saw the inside of a proper house their entire life, even in Latin America... it's just unthinkable in any human terms however contemplated to simply turn your back and pedal away from people mid-sentence.
But otherwise, yes the servants were quite as ill spoken, ill bred and misbehaving little turdlets, and by that point had been just so, for centuries ; though no, the notion of separate (or, for that matter, multiple) beds in servant's rooms was rather in the vein of unthinkable heresy than any kind of practice. Sharing with X meant, sharing the bed, not the room or anything. The bed, the bedding, the single sheets... heck, unmarried girls shared beds by the half dozen on a daily basis, people just slept into each other a lot more historically (and, counterintuitively though not really surprisingly, also washed a lot less).
In closing let it also be mentioned that, on one hand, such a wonder as males polishing silver was never seen since the invention of the sterling pound, hood geavens! and on the other that's just about as far as my patience carried me. [↩]
- Generally people have perspectives on things and matters ; but when one's perspective narrows to the degree of becoming a mere unidimensional entity the man proudly announces his newfound invalidity : "this", he will say, "is my point of view". [↩]
- It should be in fairness also mentioned that the marmalade, while still substantially the same thing, is nevertheless a notch or two finer than the common stock in trade. The rape scene, for instance, is merely a suggestion rather than a consummation, and in general the hectoring's not coming out of nearly as blunt an instrument as usually seen. [↩]
- Though casting Stephen Fry as "the inspector" is such idiotic nonsense as to render the entire pile impracticable. It becomes more like a joke retold by a dribbling retard than anything else, it should be funny but it can't possibly be told straight, yet there's no other way besides straight available under the circumstances, summing up to nothing besides just plain old nonsense. [↩]
- Not that they don't try, bless their special hearts, but seriously now, the girls cut cards for cock, truly & really, that's supposed to do it for anyone ?! [↩]