A grand estate teeters on the brink of ruin. Fackham Hall, home to the once-proud Davenport family, is crumbling under the weight of debt and dwindling fortunes. It’s 1931, and four centuries of lineage hang by a thread, a desperate situation ripe for both scandal and satire.
This isn’t your typical period drama. This is a brazen, unapologetic spoof, a comedic assault on the sensibilities of the aristocratic world, reminiscent of the irreverent spirit of Monty Python. The film doesn’t shy away from the absurd, embracing silliness, slapstick, and a surprisingly dark undercurrent.
At the heart of the chaos are two unlikely lovers: Eric, a charming pickpocket with a mysterious past, and Rose, a young woman deemed hopelessly on the shelf at the shockingly advanced age of 23. Their meet-cute is anything but conventional – a near-fatal collision that sets the stage for a whirlwind of mistaken identities and escalating absurdity.
The Davenports are a family steeped in misfortune. They’ve tragically lost four sons to a series of bizarre accidents, including a sinking ship and a darkly humorous incident involving… well, let’s just say the film has a peculiar fascination with anatomical details. Their last hope rests on the marriage of their youngest daughter, Poppy, to her odious cousin, Archibald.
Damian Lewis delivers a masterful performance as the ineffectual patriarch, Humphrey Davenport, perfectly capturing the clueless arrogance of the upper class. Alongside him, Katherine Waterston embodies brittle desperation as his wife, Prudence, while Tom Felton continues his reign as a delightfully villainous presence as the aforementioned Archibald.
But the film’s brilliance isn’t solely in its star power. Supporting characters, like the permanently unimpressed housekeeper Mrs. McAllister, played with deadpan perfection by Anna Maxwell Martin, and the delightfully blunt Great Aunt Bonaparte, add layers of comedic texture. Even a cameo by Jimmy Carr as a peculiar vicar provides a memorable moment.
The script is packed with jokes – a claimed 278 in total – though not all land with equal impact. Some gags fall flat, lost on a quieter audience, while others elicit genuine roars of laughter. A running theme, however, is the film’s willingness to confront the hypocrisy of privilege, exemplified by a character’s dismissive remark: “But we’re the aristocracy, surely laws don’t apply to us?”
Beyond the slapstick and suggestive humor, Fackham Hall offers clever nods to the era. A glimpse of a struggling writer named J.R.R. Tolkien, seeking inspiration within the estate’s walls, adds a charming touch of historical detail. The film revels in its freedom, pushing boundaries and embracing a “no limits” approach to comedy.
Ultimately, Fackham Hall is a film that thrives on its own audacity. It’s a chaotic, irreverent, and often outrageous spoof that will likely appeal to those who appreciate the sharp wit of Jimmy Carr and the enduring appeal of the Downton Abbey universe. It may not bring the house down, but it certainly provides a raucous and memorable evening.
