The Party
Sally Potter's dark chamber piece about a dinner party from hell doesn't outstay its welcome, unlike the party's guests
The Party opens with a dishevelled Kristin Scott Thomas pointing a gun at the camera, so we know from the get-go that the get-together she's hosting has gone very wrong. The surprise is how quickly it all falls apart. Sally Potter's film unfolds in something close to real-time, and within 70 minutes these middle-class guests are at each other's throats. Secrets are spilled, long-buried resentments surface, and that gun looms ominously in the background.
When it comes to shooting in a single location, Potter is no Fassbinder or Polanski – she keeps lurching into shaky close-ups – but her script is lively and funny, and she gets great work from her well-chosen cast. Cillian Murphy's anxious, cocaine-fuelled banker is a highlight, while an acidic Patricia Clarkson steals most of the best one-liners: “Martha, you're a first-rate lesbian and a second-rate thinker.”
The Party ultimately feels glib and hollow, a trifle that fails to maximise its potential; but at least the film, unlike these awful guests, doesn't outstay its welcome.
Released by Picturehouse