In "Joe's Palace", the power of Joe's actual palace appears to be supreme and irresistible.Entire lives have been defined for generations according to the social parameters, class distinctions, and boundaries exemplified by this magnificent home. The individual's inability to comprehend the extent to which this mansion exerts its power is the gist of the story.The house can be seen as a surrogate for religion or the monarchy, or the most worshipful possible love for England and its history. The building has a force of personality that cannot be resisted, and everyone whose path crosses it understands perfectly -- even Joe. Ultimately, the house is a monster that seizes control of those who enter. It rips them from themselves and then leaves them diminished or humiliated. Joe fares best, apparently because he sees the hold that the house exerts on people, but himself does not experience it.

I agree with the first review here- I didn't want the film to end. All of the characters seem very realistic to me; the plot feels real; the performances are very focused and sincerely done, especially that of Michael Gambon, who really shines but is sly and subtle in this performance; the writing is very mature and paced very well. I didn't read any hints or reviews in advance so the turn in the plot near the end truly shocked and saddened me. I chose to view it because Janet Suzman recommended the author's work to me. Overall, I found the writing and the entire production to be very powerful. It haunted me for quite some time. Thank you, Ms. Suzman, for your advice, and makers of this work for a finely made film! (It's still available on HBOGO.)

It's always a bit of a surprise to visit here after I've seen a wonderful movie. There are intelligent people that see it through eyes that are as valid as mine, yet they saw nothing as I did.I think it would be wise not to take too much from any of the reviews that you see here. If you are one of the lucky ones that see the film as I did, you will be rewarded by an experience that's as full as "Howard's End". If not, you'll likely know within the first 15 minutes and you can do something else.I thought the acting was as good as anything I've seen in the past couple of years. It wasn't just Gambon, it was pretty much across the board. Wynter was unbelievably good. Kelly Reilly was perfect.If you haven't read the spoilers yet, don't. This movie is subtle. Give it a try.

Michael Gambon is one of Britain's finest actors, and Stephen Poliakoff one of our more interesting dramatists; but rubbish is rubbish, and sadly, 'Joe's Palace' is not very good. Polliakoff has for a long time been interested in the aesthetics of aristocracy (and concordantly sympathetic to the beautiful), but in this film, he indulges these sentiments in the absence of any meaningful context. A reclusive billionaire does nothing with his life because he is consumed by what he fears his father might have done, although he apparently has no idea what this might have been; several historians fail to discover anything, but the girl from the local deli proves a better researcher than them and discovers that the father had been sympathetic to Nazi values; despite having always assumed that his Dad had been a Nazi collaborator anyway, this persuades the billionaire to think of suicide, although not very hard. Then he gives away a tiny proportion of his wealth (some things his father has stolen) and lives happily every after. Meanwhile, he employs a collection of social misfits (a familiar Poliakoff theme) to staff a huge London house he keeps empty; one of them, Joe, a young man with learning difficulties, is patronised by everyone telling him "what a bright boy" he is and watches silently everything that happens, commenting innanely in his diary but somehow becoming everyone's confident. A slick politician (played by Rupert Penry-Jones, who invests his lines with exaggerated faux-earnestness) and his beautiful mistress (plated by Kelly Reily, who emotes breathlessly but is also unconvincing), also feature for little apparent reason. Meanwhile, everywhere is empty: not just the house, but the streets and parks of London; in every scene, the background is blank, so the Polliakoff can maintain his trademark atmospherics, although you'll never see real life looking like this. The film as whole, meanwhile, is self-important but no less empty, devoid of real meaning and life, with no real dialogue (a scattering of monologues substitute for it) and, criminally for a film starring Gambon, desperately dull.