THE SHOOTING PARTY, based on the novel by Isabel Colegate, is one of those low-budget films that tends to be characterized as a "heritage film," offering incidental pleases to viewers who are prepared to make the effort, but perhaps not pitched at general audiences.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Alan Bridges's work is both a technical and thematic masterpiece, brilliantly making use of cinema's resources to comment on British insularity both before and after World War One.
The first few sequences pass by exceptionally quickly: few of the guests at Sir Randolph's (James Mason's) home have time to talk with one another, as they are perpetually occupied in dressing for dinner, eating food, and discussing the next day's hunting. We wonder why they seem so desperate, especially in view of their privileged lifestyle. The answer emerges gradually; they are pathologically incapable of expressing their true feelings. Lord Gilbert and Lady Aline (Edward Fox, Cheryl Campbell) are unhappily married yet stay together for the sake of form. Lord Bob (Robert Hardy) makes himself agreeable to everyone without saying anything of any value. They seem hell-bent on preserving what they perceive as the "old values" that made England great in the Victorian era without in the least understanding how worthless they have become.
The "Hunting Party" of the title refers to a three-day shooting festival, where the aristocrats indulge in hunting just for the sake of it, loyally supported by Sir Randolph's band of servants. No questions its morality, save for lifelong pacifist Cornelius Cardew (John Gielgud). Director Bridges slows the action down quite significantly here, allowing viewers to acknowledge the regular - and uncomfortable - series of gunshots accompanied by tight pans of the birds falling dead. The parallels between such sequences and the forthcoming conflict in World War I are obvious; only in the future it will be human beings rather than birds who will perish.
The action attains a human dimension when we discover that the little boy Osbert (Nicholas Pietrek) is desperate to save his pet duck from the carnage. As he wanders desperately about the dawn- misted landscape before the hunt is about to start, we realize just how destructive humanity can be as they disrupt the balance of nature for their selfish pleasures.
Although Bridges does not exempt his characters from criticism, he manages to introduce a Chekhovian element into the film's latter stages. While no one can ever contemplate a future different from the past, the aristocrats are in a sense victims of circumstance, lacking both the power and self-awareness to change their lives. This element is emphasized in a highly poignant moment as Sir Randolph vainly tries to offer succor to one of his servants (Gordon Jackson), who has been accidentally shot, but finds himself emotionally incapable of doing so, and bursts into tears quietly.
Released only three years after the Falklands Island invasion of 1982, widely celebrated at the time as a great victory for British pride, THE SHOOTING PARTY offers a chillingly downbeat interpretation of jingoist attitudes that prove more destructive than beneficial.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Alan Bridges's work is both a technical and thematic masterpiece, brilliantly making use of cinema's resources to comment on British insularity both before and after World War One.
The first few sequences pass by exceptionally quickly: few of the guests at Sir Randolph's (James Mason's) home have time to talk with one another, as they are perpetually occupied in dressing for dinner, eating food, and discussing the next day's hunting. We wonder why they seem so desperate, especially in view of their privileged lifestyle. The answer emerges gradually; they are pathologically incapable of expressing their true feelings. Lord Gilbert and Lady Aline (Edward Fox, Cheryl Campbell) are unhappily married yet stay together for the sake of form. Lord Bob (Robert Hardy) makes himself agreeable to everyone without saying anything of any value. They seem hell-bent on preserving what they perceive as the "old values" that made England great in the Victorian era without in the least understanding how worthless they have become.
The "Hunting Party" of the title refers to a three-day shooting festival, where the aristocrats indulge in hunting just for the sake of it, loyally supported by Sir Randolph's band of servants. No questions its morality, save for lifelong pacifist Cornelius Cardew (John Gielgud). Director Bridges slows the action down quite significantly here, allowing viewers to acknowledge the regular - and uncomfortable - series of gunshots accompanied by tight pans of the birds falling dead. The parallels between such sequences and the forthcoming conflict in World War I are obvious; only in the future it will be human beings rather than birds who will perish.
The action attains a human dimension when we discover that the little boy Osbert (Nicholas Pietrek) is desperate to save his pet duck from the carnage. As he wanders desperately about the dawn- misted landscape before the hunt is about to start, we realize just how destructive humanity can be as they disrupt the balance of nature for their selfish pleasures.
Although Bridges does not exempt his characters from criticism, he manages to introduce a Chekhovian element into the film's latter stages. While no one can ever contemplate a future different from the past, the aristocrats are in a sense victims of circumstance, lacking both the power and self-awareness to change their lives. This element is emphasized in a highly poignant moment as Sir Randolph vainly tries to offer succor to one of his servants (Gordon Jackson), who has been accidentally shot, but finds himself emotionally incapable of doing so, and bursts into tears quietly.
Released only three years after the Falklands Island invasion of 1982, widely celebrated at the time as a great victory for British pride, THE SHOOTING PARTY offers a chillingly downbeat interpretation of jingoist attitudes that prove more destructive than beneficial.