On one of my harder-hearted days I would've felt schadenfreude (rich assholes waste obscene amounts of money on tacky shit, get burned, film at 11), but today I feel sorry for them. The whole thing is just sad. On the macro level, such a tragic mis-deployment of resources. And on the micro level, misplacing one's priorities on material things and finding out the hard way that it doesn't bring any meaning to your life. I know someone going through this now in a more modest house... slowly but surely, starting to get tired earlier and earlier in the afternoons (granted, she smokes), getting sick of chores like cleaning gutters, mowing, clearing spiderwebs etc.
And all those empty rooms in the photographs! I don't imagine they see many days of being filled with smiling, laughing guests. Which is really the only true use of a house that big... you need to entertain, you need hundreds of friends to share it with, right? Otherwise what's the use? Maybe that's just me. I would probably get supremely depressed otherwise, all that space around me, waiting to be used, reminding me how empty it is.
Everybody gets old. Everybody dies. Everybody follows each other in a grand parade to oblivion. These people won the game the mid-20th century told them was being played, but everybody ultimately loses the Big Game.