Various individuals think they’re coming together for a party in a private home, but a series of revelations results in a huge crisis that throws their belief systems – and their values – int...
The Party places differing ideologies in one vapid yet tauntingly humorous room. A soirée featuring middle-class professionals, discussing observational parliamentary politics over some burnt vol-au-vents, should never have been this traumatic for the characters. A terminally ill materialistic atheist professor admits to cheating on his wife, where “revenge” overcomes “truth and reconciliation”. The partner of a women’s studies professor announces she is pregnant with triplets through in vitro fertilisation. A separating couple, consisting of a cynic realist and a pseudo-scientific spiritualist, attempt to narrate the dramatic endeavours whilst providing argumentative commentary on the nation’s health service and bureaucratic system. Finally, to top the evening off, the husband of the wife cheating with the other husband panically arrives, heads straight into the lavatory, snorts some lines of white powder and clumsily handles a handgun with the intent on murdering the cheating husband. All of this, over some mildly expensive red wine to celebrate an idealistic politician of the opposition party becoming the shadow minister for health.
Potter, whom is used to directing contemporary sumptuous dramas, packs plenty of conversational pieces within The Party’s brief seventy-one minute gathering of established actors. Some commentaries land, others forced into an educated escalation to which unfortunately missed the mark. The characterised drama, including the juxtaposing idealisms and personalities, created subtle humour amidst the chaotic domestic revelations, powered by a wickedly humorous screenplay written by Potter herself. Individuals tainted by lives they chose to live, strongly asserting their beliefs into the room. April and Gottfried hilariously representing an estranged feud of dogma. Just one example of the differing principles these characters reside by, and how they starkly contrast each other. It’s as if Potter threw in dissimilar ingredients into a reasonably priced oven and produced a MasterChef worthy dish, perhaps one Jinny cooked herself? The slow unfolding of various domestic arguments were incredibly involving, as if we were visitors ourselves to this luncheon of drama.
Unfortunately though, not every conversational piece worked, with an abrupt artificial insertion that disjointed the script. The commentary on the National Health Service was somewhat undercooked, considering Janet’s newly celebrated position, lacking the insight that Potter wanted to provide. Gender politics was thrown into the mix also, in the light of Martha being a professor of female studies, but again never developed into an overarching theme that could’ve differentiated the closed drama from other similar features, such as Polanski’s ‘Carnage’. This is notably due to the extremely minuscule runtime that prevents these intricate elucidations from taking shape, moulding the conversations into abnormal sentences of intellectual prowess for the sake of it. Had Potter extended the feature for an additional ten minutes, these conversational topics could’ve manifested fully. As soon as revelations start filling the room with anarchy, two satisfying slaps and an upper cut later, the film disappointingly cuts to black and ends.
Fortunately the essential performances prevent this gathering from feeling completely cold and meticulous. Clarkson, Murphy and Scott Thomas being the notable standouts and fully embracing the diligence of their characters with realism. Ganz, Jones, Mortimer and Spall also added memorable characters to the foray of political standoffs.
The monochromatic approach, whilst undoubtedly beautiful to watch, felt unnecessary and failed to symbolise anything regarding the party itself. However, there is an ornate classical charm about Potter’s feature that accentuates the social satire of her screenplay. It might be ridiculously short, and would probably make for a better theatre production than cinematic endeavour, yet the performances and dark humour enticed me to want to receive an invitation to the next party.
