Savage House is a black comedy from writer/director Peter Glanz. He previously had a writing credit on last year’s Captain America: Brave New World, a film that seemed determined to try and balance too many elements and characters at once, eventually buckling under the strain of it all.
Luckily, this new feature feels much more distinct and memorable, with a confident narrative voice to boot. Set against a Regency backdrop, it stars Richard E Grant and Claire Foy as twin gentries living in wedded not-quite bliss in the titular House, a modest little estate tucked away in the English countryside. Together, they live with maids and manservants ready and willing to serve their every need, something that Grant’s character, the sleazy Sir Chauncey Savage, takes full advantage of, revelling in a life of blatant debauchery.
‘I’ve been accused of many things, Mr B, but seriousness isn’t one of them.’
Despite the house being in her family name, Foy’s Lady Savage seems to watch her husband’s life from the sidelines with a sense of detachment. Instead, she’s more focused on keeping her teenage daughter, Fanny, on the right track. Husband and wife finally look to be on the same page when a rider arrives at the door: the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire have seen their plans go awry due to an outbreak of the Pox and now need room and board for one night of their journey, ten days from now. Spotting a chance to rise above their stagnant stations, both Savages set out to transform the house for the impending noble welcome – an effort that may well cost them everything.
On paper, it all seems a bit like an extended episode of Blackadder the Third but before long, Savage House moves from a rather unwieldy and narration-heavy opening into something as gleefully eccentric as its two central characters. Grant is all over the place as Chauncey, but the character demands as much, flitting between pitiful melancholy (his health seems to deteriorate with every scene – we often see him abed in a state of disrepair) and seemingly drug-induced mania, frantically trying to get all his ducks in a row for the grand arrival.
There’s more than a bit of Withnail to Chauncey. I feel like the two could comfortably go head-to-head in a battle of pretentiousness. Brilliantly, I’m much less sure about which man would come out on top – his character here would really give the old accidental holidaymaker a run for his money. He has such disdain for so many of the film’s other characters and yet you do find yourself hoping that his zany plans come to fruition – Grant just has that charm to his characterisation.
The lady of the house is interestingly pitched, too – she’s neither the completely silent, overlooked wife nor is she the rebellious and vengeful Lady Macbeth type. We’re told early on in that initial expository sequence (which reads a little like the first few chapters of a Dickens book – in fact, the steely grey colour palette on display here screams Bleak House) that, crucially, Chauncey never came from money. Put simply, he was a pauper who managed to win her heart by offering something more exciting than stuffy-collared suitors. That sense of an underlying bond between the two runs through the course of the film even when they’re bickering like mad and throwing marital caution to the wind like they’re auditioning for the next series of Rivals. It’s nothing Shakespearean but it makes for something deeper to follow along over the course of the film without the whole affair descending into completely parodical chaos.
The film’s frenetic energy is competently matched by its score and structure, set out into a number of different Parts that work like chapters in the book of this family’s descent. Era-appropriate orchestral themes work alongside high-energy violin strokes that draws the segmentation of The Shining to mind, only emphasising the madness at play here, and one or two sequences play on the strength of Grant’s portrayal and Chauncey’s comparatively weak mental state to create interesting little sidebars.
The plot itself is peppered with enough turns and happenings to feel like a proper journey, too – a lot can happen in ten days – and while it’s rarely laugh out loud funny, the script itself was wittily written in a way that had me chuckling nicely for a good chunk of the film’s two-hour runtime. Compared to another comedy out this week – one a half hour shorter (naming no horror parodies) – that time passed rather quickly.
BBFC: Rated 15 for very strong language, strong sex, injury detail, violence.
Savage House is in cinemas now.
