52 Films by Women Vol 8. 11. Wicked Little Letters (Director: Thea Sharrock)
Wicked Little Letters, a 1920s fact-based comedy about two
neighbours who have fallen out, pits two acting greats against one another. In
the blue corner, carrying one Best Actress Oscar for The Favourite and the good opinion of the British viewing
public for a body of work on television (Peep Show, Broadchurch, The Crown) and cinema (Tyrannosaur, Empire of Light), wearing a demure toothy smile, Ms. Olivia Colman. In the red corner,
talent show contestant turned forthright screen lead, a young woman more likely
to say ‘bog off’ than boo to a goose, Ms. Wild Rose herself,
Jessie Buckley. The title refers to poison pen letters – the mean tweets of
their day – received by Littlehampton spinster and devout Christian, Edith Swan
(Colman), whose father, Edward (Timothy Spall), a steaming brass kettle of a
man, insists were sent by the Irish-born single mother next door, Rose Gooding
(Buckley). After Edith receives the 19th letter, which she reads
aloud with affected nonchalance, Edward has Rose arrested. We have no doubt
that Rose is being scapegoated, but only Woman Police Officer Gladys Moss
(Anjana Vasan) cares.
Relating a story
that formed the basis of Charles Hilliard’s book, ‘The Littlehampton Libels’,
and scripted by Jonny Sweet, Wicked
Little Letters is Thea
Sharrock’s third film as director, having followed up her monster success of
the tragi-romance, Me Before
You with The One and Only Ivan, a family drama that went straight to Disney
+ in which Sam Rockwell voiced the titular gorilla. Sharrock’s films feature
underdogs facing difficult circumstances with minimal expectations. Her next
film, The Beautiful Game, centres on the homeless (football) world
cup. Quite apart from the fruity language which would test broadcasting
standards on terrestrial television, not to mention airline viewing – ‘foxy’ is
the politest word used - Wicked
Little Letters features
colour-blind casting, using ethnicity as an additional signifier of individuals
being side-lined or frowned upon by the establishment. So Gladys is played by
an Anglo-Asian actress – Vasan is from Singapore. Rose’s boyfriend, Bill is
played by Malachi Kirby, who starred in Steve McQueen’s Small Axe series, about the lives of Britain’s black immigrant population, and
Lolly Adefope plays Kate, a stalwart competitor in Women’s Whist. Wicked Little Letters doesn’t offer a strictly mimetic view of
events. Rather, Sharrock is interested in films that reflect the audience that
watch them rather than a dogmatic version of reality.
In the film, Edith
initially befriends Rose but is chided by her when she suggests that Rose
should mop her floor. The pair really fall out after Rose is reported to social
services over the provision of her daughter, Nancy (Alisha Weir). Mother and
child are not finally separated. Nevertheless, the letters start.
Sharrock’s
anti-realist approach extends to a depiction of Rose’s life. We are more likely
to see her in a pub, aiming a dart at a potato nesting amongst a man’s frizzy
hair, than at work. Sharrock correctly intuits that we are more interested in
what happens next – Rose’s arrest and subsequent bail and her unlikely ally, a
woman, Ann (a scene-stealing Joanna Scanlan), who sold a pig to help Rose; the
pig was poorly, apparently.
The comedy raison d’être are the letters themselves, focussed on
body parts, sexual proclivities, and discharges that one cares not to mention
in public. Although the film features a multi-ethnic cast, the letters do not
focus on race, even Rose’s Irishness. Boundaries are clearly established for
the purpose of delivering good, clean, filthy fun, rather emphasising socially
divisive opinions that pervade discourse in the UK today, especially around
migration and integration.
Still courtesy of Studio Canal (UK)
Edward Swan is the
butt of the film’s humour, unequivocally misogynistic, insisting that he be
interviewed by a male police officer and ordering Edith at his birthday drinks
to fetch him some cake. Rose stands up to Edward, calling him out in company,
which earns Edith’s admiration. Equally disrespected are the police, who
privilege opinion over facts. When Gladys presents samples of Rose’s
handwriting, insisting that she could not have written the letters, her
superior, Chief Constable Spedding (Paul Chahidi) dismisses it, arguing that
such evidence won’t be considered. There is a fundamental issue at play. As
Rose puts it, ‘why would I write letters when I could just say it?’ Indeed, for
a single mother, postage stamps, writing paper and ink would be quite an
expense. Rose’s house isn’t searched for writing materials.
Halfway through the
film, the identity of the letter writer is made clear. Not that we had any
doubts. Wicked Little Letters is to some extent a generic film about
mental illness, exacerbated by religion and passivity. The letters have real
impact. Reading one of them, a character dies. One wonders why the case against
Rose doesn’t morph into a manslaughter charge.
This moment raises a
significant question. Surely, after someone’s death, the letter writer should
reconsider their actions. As the case goes to trial, with Rose in the dock, the
letters continue. It becomes clear that poison pen letters are a symptom of an
addictive personality; the individual feels compelled to write them. They are a
symptom of frustration, anxiety, and emotional pain. We are invited to
sympathise with their author – and we do.
Before then, there
is the matter of exonerating Rose. Relieved of her duties, Gladys has a plan.
Here, Ann comes into her own, refusing to act until she has eaten an egg. She
is insistent and stops the film in the best possible way with a belly laugh.
Still courtesy of Studio Canal (UK)
By the end, the
proper villain receives a come-uppance. Whilst justice is done, there is a sort
of truce. Nevertheless, for Rose, the trial has a cost. In court, her daughter
makes an uncomfortable discovery, causing her to destroy the guitar that she
played when Rose wasn’t looking.
The film undoubtedly
speaks to a contemporary audience, some of whom sit behind pseudonyms to
deliver crass judgments on others, exposing in the process their own narrow
agenda. Anonymous comments corrode because they play upon the recipients’ own
insecurities and the gap between the identity they want to project and how
others actual perceive them. It also describes a society in which the good
opinion of others is actively sought. Edith is described in one newspaper as a
role model, a paragon of virtue, making her father proud. Edward also has other
opinions, rejecting Edith’s cooking and sending her away to write out a passage
from the Bible multiple times.
Wicked Little
Letters doesn’t go far enough
to address the weaponization of perceptions of insecurity that led to 52% of
those who participated voting for Britain to leave the European Union. The Vote
Leave campaigners appealed to voters’ emotion over logic, peddling the same
Utopia narrative that Daesh used to attract Muslims to travel to Iraq and Syria
to help support the so-called Islamic State. Nowadays, the Brexiteer mission is
to ‘stop the small boats’, an ironic admission of defeat from hatemongering
profiteers. If Sharrock’s film, which has grossed £8,160,804 at the UK box
office after five weeks of release, helps people think about the motivations of
the messenger before liking the message, that would be a terrific outcome.
Reviewed at
Cineworld Renfrew Street, Glasgow, Scotland, Thursday 7 March 2024, 12:00
midday screening.
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