FILM OF THE WEEK: Savage House - Reviewed by Roe McDermott

There are remnants of both The Favourite and The Great in Savage House, as genteel society is revealed to be every bit as disgusting, debauched, ridiculous, frivolous and sex-obsessed as it accuses the lower orders of being. The idea of stench, rot, decay and infection seeps from the film's pores, accompanied by generous helpings of toilet humour and puerile gags – a description delivered with affection.

Written and directed by Peter Glanz, the film follows Sir Chauncey Savage (Richard E. Grant) and his wife Lady Savage (Claire Foy), a couple clinging desperately to status in a crumbling country estate.

Chauncey is a serial liar, social climber and financial disaster who has spent years cheating and defrauding acquaintances and accumulating debt while chasing acceptance from a world that still regards him as an outsider. Lady Savage remains devoted to her husband despite his many failings, though both conduct discreet affairs with members of their dwindling household staff.

When word arrives that the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire intend to visit, the Savages see an opportunity to transform their fortunes. Suddenly, neighbours who previously treated them with contempt are desperate to ingratiate themselves. Creditors are placated. Borrowed money pours into renovations. The couple throw themselves into preparing the perfect evening, picking out new and expensive furniture, clothing, and elaborate meals. Lady Savage selling her jewellery to fund this elaborate performance of a lost social and financial status, convinced that one successful dinner might restore their position. Naturally, everything begins to unravel.

For Grant, whose best performances have often relied on characters who delight in shocking others, he's firmly in his element. But there is also something deliciously funny about seeing Claire Foy – so strongly associated with royal restraint and composure – commanding a servant to "keep licking my bum." Both actors understand exactly what sort of film they're in and attack it with gusto.

Visually, the film is often striking. The interiors are so dimly lit like the Caravaggios that the Savages can no longer afford. Cinematographer Adriano Goldman makes a virtue of the gloom, allowing candlelight to flicker across mouldering walls, damp corridors and increasingly chaotic dinner tables. The grandeur of the vast country house is constantly undercut by evidence of decline and its role as a money pit, as though debt itself has begun staining the wallpaper.

The idea of social climbing infects every corner of the story. The Savages' neighbours initially arrive only to sneer at them before pivoting instantly to flattery once they sense a higher rung of the social ladder might be available. Servants plot against masters. Acquaintances jockey for position. Chauncey's humble origins are repeatedly cited as a source of shame and limitation. Yet the film – which often relies on telling via voice-over, rather than showing - never entirely convinces that class prejudice, rather than his endless lying, cheating, swindling and drinking, is what has truly brought ruin upon him.

Nor is the film particularly original. Alongside the familiar collision of aristocratic excess, social aspiration and sexual hypocrisy, there are countless scenes of chamber pots being emptied, animal carcasses being butchered, corsets being tightened and wigs being adjusted. These visual and thematic juxtaposition have become recognisable beats within the modern period satire, as well as recent films like Poor Things, Saltburn and Wuthering Heights and so Savage House’s approach feels competent and darkly fun rather than surprising.

Still, there is fun to be had in the central marriage. Foy gets a particularly lovely scene explaining why she never wanted to be a respectable but silent trophy wife and why continues to love Chauncey despite his catalogue of failings, grounding the character in something more emotionally recognisable than the surrounding farce. Early scenes between the pair capture a genuine sense of shared mischief, suggesting that their mutual disregard for social convention is what drew them together in the first place.

As the story progresses, the film shifts into something closer to a Safdie Brothers-style anxiety spiral. Chauncey becomes consumed by the conviction that the Duke and Duchess's visit must be flawless. Debts mount. Dubious characters are welcomed into the house. Problems multiply faster than they can be solved. Grant captures obsession well, his mounting panic matched only by an ever-expanding collection of grotesque ailments, infected injuries, and bodily malfunctions.

Pus, leeches, blood, pig shit and various other unpleasant substances repeatedly intrude upon the frame as reminders that beneath the fine tailoring, powdered wigs and carefully painted beauty spots, everyone’s human – flawed, ego-driven and ultimately all returned to the same dirt, where we belong.

The reliance on voice-over occasionally feels heavy-handed, while the pacing suggests there may have been a shorter, sharper version of the film waiting somewhere in the edit. The destination – a festering hive of corruption, vanity and self-destruction – is visible long before the film arrives there. Yet Grant and Foy remain enormously watchable company throughout.

Savage House may not possess the bite of The Favourite or the precision of the films it clearly admires, but it understands the pleasures of watching good actors behave badly. Featuring two wonderfully game central performances, it’s a nicely nasty portrait of human folly. Like its doomed hosts, the film occasionally overextends itself in pursuit of grandeur, but there's a certain charm in watching it try.

Written, directed and edited by Peter Glanz. Cinematography by Adriano Goldman. Starring Claire Foy, Richard E. Grant, Jack Farthing, Bel Powley, Kila Lord Cassidy. 114 mins.

• In cinemas now. Watch the trailer below: