Fackham Hall Review – A Fast-Paced, Witty Parody of Downton Abbey That's Refreshingly Ephemeral.

It could be the notion of uncertain days pervading: subsequent to a lengthy span of inactivity, the comedic send-up is staging a return. The recent season observed the re-emergence of this unserious film style, which, when done well, mocks the self-importance of excessively solemn genre with a barrage of pitched clichés, physical comedy, and ridiculously smart wordplay.

Playful eras, it seems, give rise to self-awarely frivolous, joke-dense, refreshingly shallow amusement.

The Latest Addition in This Goofy Resurgence

The most recent of these silly send-ups comes in the form of Fackham Hall, a takeoff on the British period drama that needles the very pokeable airs of wealthy British period dramas. Penned in part by stand-up performer Jimmy Carr and helmed by Jim O'Hanlon, the feature finds ample of source material to draw from and wastes none of it.

Starting with a absurd opening all the way to its ludicrous finish, this amusing upper-class adventure crams each of its runtime with jokes and bits running the gamut from the puerile to the genuinely funny.

A Mimicry of The Gentry and Staff

In the vein of Downton, Fackham Hall presents a caricature of very self-important the nobility and very obsequious staff. The narrative centers on the hapless Lord Davenport (played by a delightfully mannered Damian Lewis) and his anti-reading wife, Lady Davenport (Katherine Waterston). Following the loss of their four sons in separate unfortunate mishaps, their hopes now rest on finding matches for their daughters.

The younger daughter, Poppy (Emma Laird), has secured the aristocratic objective of an engagement to the appropriate first cousin, Archibald (a wonderfully unctuous Tom Felton). Yet when she pulls out, the pressure transfers to the unmarried elder sister, Rose (Thomasin McKenzie), described as an old maid at 23 and who harbors unladylike notions regarding women's independence.

The Film's Humor Succeeds

The parody fares much better when joking about the oppressive social constraints forced upon Edwardian-era females – a subject typically treated for po-faced melodrama. The trope of idealized femininity offers the best material for mockery.

The storyline, as befitting a purposefully absurd parody, is of lesser importance to the gags. The writer delivers them coming at a pleasantly funny rate. The film features a homicide, a bungled inquiry, and an illicit love affair between the charming pickpocket Eric Noone (Ben Radcliffe) and Rose.

A Note on Pure Silliness

The entire affair is in the spirit of playful comedy, though that itself comes with constraints. The amplified silliness characteristic of the genre may tire after a while, and the entertainment value in this instance expires somewhere between a skit and feature.

After a while, audiences could long to retreat to a realm of (at least a modicum of) reason. Nevertheless, you have to admire a sincere commitment to the artform. In an age where we might to entertain ourselves relentlessly, we might as well find the humor in it.