THE PARTY B+
Great Britain (71 mi) 2017
‘Scope d: Sally Potter Official
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Director Sally Potter’s commitment to bold experimentation has always
been intriguing, to say the least, while not always successful, in her daring
to find something uniquely different to offer, as her films aren’t for
everyone, and tend to divide filmgoers.
That said, the trailer for this film seems wacky and hilarious, so
expectations for a savagely offbeat satire seemed promising. While her previous film, 2013 Top
Ten List # 10 Ginger & Rosa, was set in the early 60’s, an era of
budding idealism juxtaposed against end-of-the-world Cold War scenarios, this
is firmly set in the anxiety-ridden fluctuating times of today, when Britain as
we know it is undergoing some kind of midlife identity crisis, on the verge of
disappearing altogether, becoming a scathing satire of the post-Brexit world
(though surprisingly shot prior
to the Brexit vote). Reminiscent of Mike
Leigh’s ABIGAIL’S PARTY (1977) and Ozon’s take on an unpublished Fassbinder
play when he was only 19, WATER DROPS ON BURNING ROCKS (1999), both are
scathing indictments of the world we live in today, where indifference and
cynicism rule supreme, and while produced in different eras, they still
maintain a sarcastic bite of laceratingly dark comedy mixed with a disturbing
anguish. While somewhat uneven and not nearly
as successful as those earlier iconic works, they do provide a frame of
reference for viewers, one of complete irreverence, becoming something of a
parody of a parody, targeting the powerlessness of liberalism, suggesting the
end is near, where this could just as easily be called LAST TANGO IN
BRITAIN. Every dysfunctional character
seems to personify what Britain stands for today, or what it has become, like a
mutant step-child, an embarrassment that is a part of us but we don’t want
others to see. Presumably a celebratory
occasion, a group of old friends arrive in the London home of the newest Minister
of Health, Janet (Kristin Scott Thomas), ever the idealist, appointed to a
prestigious position in the opposition party and certainly a rare
accomplishment from this group of educated elite. Perhaps to set the mood, while Janet is
thrilling herself on the phone in the kitchen with sweet talk from a secret
lover, her husband Bill (Timothy Small) places himself directly in the center
of the living room with a glass of wine, drinking heavily before any of the
guests arrive, playing records while stuck in a catatonic stupor, looking
disoriented while listening to the unmistakable sounds of Muddy Waters, Muddy Waters - Im a Man
(Mannish Boy).mp4 - YouTube (3:55), as one by one the guests arrive. Before the night is done, however, one of the
guests will be lying on the floor like a corpse, a curious allegory for
Britain’s gloomy fate, with fingers pointed and various people trying to resuscitate
the seemingly lifeless body back to life, with the ultimate outcome shrouded in
uncertainty and doubt.
Promising a good time for all, this party rocks with
disillusionment and open suspicion, resembling the downward spiral of
Polanski’s Carnage
(2011), becoming a free-for-all of resentment and accusations, like a modern
day Who's
Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), cleverly written by Potter herself, with
a first class cast that thrives in the theatrics of performance theater and soon
turns upon each other, hurling plenty of hilarious one-liners, where the key is
an effortless choreography of a world spinning out of control, perhaps
responding thematically to an opening salvo, declaring “Democracy is over.” First to arrive is her American best
friend April, Patricia Clarkson, easily the best thing in the film, never more
acerbic, a self-professed cynic and realist getting all the best lines (“I’m
proud of you, even though I think democracy is finished!”), and new-age partner
Gottfried, Bruno Ganz, an aromatherapist/healer (“Prick an aromatherapist and
you’ll find a fascist,” she says), announcing they are splitting up, finding
her husband indescribably boring. Next
to arrive is a constantly bickering lesbian couple, Martha (Cherry Jones), an
academic professor specializing in domestic labor gender differentiation in
American utopianism (perhaps spending too much time in women’s studies, suggests
April), and her younger partner Jinny (Emily Mortimer), a TV Masterchef runner-up, who immediately
announces she’s pregnant with three boys.
Last but not least is Tom (Cillian Murphy), a nervous financier who
announces his wife Marianne, who helped run Janet’s campaign, will be arriving
later, offering apologies, immediately locking himself in the bathroom to do
lines of coke, a habit he repeats later, sweating profusely throughout, while
also carrying a concealed gun, growing ever more nervous about it, eventually
throwing it away in a garbage bin. This
weapon works its way throughout the storyline just by its mere possibility, as
it takes the incendiary barbs one step further, adding a violent trace of
inevitability. When April pops the cork
in the champagne bottle, it immediately shatters a window (“That almost never
happens”), an ominous sign of things to come, where sinister comments about
lost ideals and keeping up with post-post-feminism just keep coming, “Sisterhood
is a very aging concept,” each seemingly disapproving of the other. Among the biggest surprises is the
superlative musical soundtrack heard throughout, ranging from the traditional
jazz standards of Sidney Bechet, What Is This Thing Called
Love? - Sidney Bechet - YouTube (3:53), to the modernism of Albert
Ayler (Albert Ayler - Summertime -
YouTube (8:47), including a stunningly downbeat John Coltrane, John Coltrane and Johnny
Hartman - My One And Only Love - YouTube (4:58), to the rousing Cuban music
of Ibrahim Ferrer, Ay,
Candela - Ibrahim Ferrer - YouTube (3:23), all offering differing comments
on the changing mood in the room, like a poetic Greek chorus, much as Potter
did in her previous film.
Shot in stark Black and White by Russian cinematographer
Aleksei Rodionov, best known for shooting Elem Klimov’s remarkable Come
and See (Idi i smotri) (1985), the movie is short but nasty, where
each character is caught up in their own problems, immersed to the point of
paralysis, or so it seems, everyone feeling betrayed, with little energy to
spare for anyone else. Gone are the
younger days of youthful idealism and democracy in action, becoming instead a
chamber drama of personal failures and indiscretions, showcasing their hidden
secrets and lies, fueled by “chronic insincerity,” which seems to define the
mindlessness of campaign rhetoric, led by April’s accusatory tones, laying into
everyone with zingers, openly declaring war on anyone complicit with the status
quo, who by the end is left to reassess the situation, surprisingly discovering
that she and Gottfried are actually the best adjusted couple in the room. This comes after a visibly distraught Bill rises
from his stupor to announce he has a hopelessly terminal medical illness, where
he had to go outside the National Health Service to get an appointment, a
defiance of everything his wife had steadfastly worked and campaigned for,
before dropping an even bigger bombshell, which may explain Tom’s fidgety
behavior, announcing he’s leaving Janet, wanting to spend his final time with
Tom’s wife, Marianne, confessing a yearlong affair (or perhaps two), suggesting
the attention paid to him only emphasizes Janet’s woeful indifference, as he
now understands what he’s been missing.
Janet’s initial recourse is to slap him hard in the face, recoiling in
disbelief at what she’s done before doing it again, drawing blood. As Janet bites down on her arm in disgust,
wailing “I believe in truth and reconciliation,” an Iago-like April promotes the
idea of exacting revenge, actually encouraging her to take matters into her own
hands, as he’s got it coming. Gottfried
immediately jumps into the role of life coach and mediator, like some cult
guru, supporting Bill while catty forces conspire against him, offering the
advice, “You need to protect yourself from so much negative female energy,”
becoming an openly defiant battle of the sexes.
In a momentary lull, Janet discovers the gun in the trash bin, raising
the stakes, with ominous Hitchcockian implications. Tom, however, is boiling over with coke
residue, more enraged than ever at Bill, and cold cocks the man who’s stealing
his wife, leaving him inert on the ground, like a corpse. Not knowing if he’s dead or alive, he has
immediate regrets and concerns, trying to cajole him back to the living, with
little success. Stuck in a neverland
between the living and the dead, Bill seems to personify Britain’s current
crisis, brought on by a toxic spell of unbridled masculinity. Trying to find music for the occasion, to
help resuscitate Bill’s broken spirits, Tom plays the first record he finds, Purcell- Dido and Aeneas~
'When I am laid in earth' (Dido's Lament ... (3:50), a funereal song of
great dramatic magnitude that may as well be an anthem for the dead. The irony of these absurdly poor choices is
not lost on the audience, as this film hilariously probes the underbelly of insanity
that lies at the root of today’s modern conflict. With Buñuelian wit and precision, and without offering any solutions,
this film metaphorically sticks a fork into what’s left of the rotting corpse formerly
known as Great Britain.
Note
Of special interest, the actors and actresses in this film
all got paid equally and are using this fact to promote equal pay for women in
the film industry.
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