FORGING FRIENDSHIPS
Melissa McCarthy abandons slapstick to become an unlikely and unlovable rogue in a film about fakes, forgeries and queer friendships. Review by Cameron Bayley.
Melissa McCarthy abandons slapstick to play an unlikely and unlovable rogue in a film about fakes and queer friendships.
SAY, WHAT? A film focusing on a bitter lesbian who’s a major swindler and her pal, a camp and wily gay man? There’s no romance between them. They’re not the nicest of human beings. Oh, yes, and they’re mature aged.
You heard correct.
Can You Ever Forgive Me? directed by Marielle Heller is just that. Set in the 1990s, it looks like a classic American drama from the ’70s with its muted brown and beige tones (thanks to production designer Stephen H Carter) and it feels like one – ready to be daring. And, truth be told, the true story of biographer Lee Israel is a jaw-dropper.
It’s not uncommon for writers to hide behind words, but Israel made it an art form. Biography was her genre – and she wrote books devoted to subjects like Tallulah Bankhead and Estee Lauder. However, her greatest works in the genre were exactly the reason for her downfall – she began forging notes from dead literary figures and selling them to collectors.
Can You Ever Forgive Me? is based on Israel’s own book detailing her deeds, with Melissa McCarthy doing dowdy as our protagonist – a grumpy, generally unlikeable human if ever there was one.
Known mainly for her comedic roles (her Oscar-nominated turn in Bridesmaids never fails to make us cackle), McCarthy clearly has just as much skill when it comes to drama, and she inhabits this character to perfection – she finds the heart of her. And even though the great Julianne Moore was primed to do the role in a previous incarnation, it’s hard to imagine anyone else doing this.
“It’s not always that easy to find complicated, flawed characters written for women,” McCarthy recently told Forbes, adding that she loved Israel, “Because she’s amazing and fascinating, and prickly, and everything you shouldn’t be, and yet I wouldn’t change her at all.”
When we meet her, Israel is behind in rent, still at a loss over a failed relationship, and warring with her publisher (played by Jane Curtin from the ’80s sitcom Kate And Allie) over lack of interest in her work. She’s fired from her day job (yes, she’s that bitter and cantankerous workmate we all avoid sitting
next to), and her beloved cat is ill.
By chance she comes across a handwritten letter by famous showgirl Fanny Brice in a library book. And, before you can say, “Hello, gorgeous!” Israel finds that there’s a huge market for such antiquities, which, at the time, was relatively unchecked.
When she’s offered a pretty payment for it, it’s a eureka moment, and she throws herself into her new writing endeavour with gusto – making sure she has the right paper, the right ink, turning her TV into a makeshift lightbox for tracing signatures, and more.
For a writer, there’s nothing better than discovering your audience and your niche. Unfortunately for Israel, it just happens to be criminal. Forgery isn’t pretty, but she relishes this chance to move beyond biography and actually channel the witty bon mots of such esteemed persons as Dorothy Parker and Noel Coward into her forgeries.
And, of course, any criminal mastermind needs a sidekick, and as Israel’s endeavour takes off she makes the acquaintance of Jack Hock (Richard E Grant) while having a drink in a gay bar one afternoon. He’s a long-time lush, a true hustler always on the make, a Pollyanna on the skids. They recognise in each other a loneliness and a shared acerbic take on the world. Let’s just say they don’t spend much time building each other up – it’s a friendship built on a fair dose of snark.
Grant and McCarthy make an ideal on-screen match, so it’s little surprise they’ve been a mainstay in this year’s awards season nominations, culminating in an Academy Award nomination each.
Perhaps one of the beautiful things about this film is the on-screen friendship between these two – they’re outcasts from society and also the glittering mainstream, young, gay world.
Their later-in-life friendship is not smooth sailing by any means – you can’t trust Hock as far as you could throw one of his drapey shawls – but there’s a kinship, a mutual realisation that they’re both scrambling for that out, that golden ticket (courtesy of a famous dead author). But before we cast them as total misery guts, let’s step back a bit – they’re drinking buddies, ready to spar with a quick comeback worthy of Coward, and not immune from the odd prank call. It’s a bittersweet partnership, and it feels real.
Like all good scams, Israel (and Hock who comes on board as a kind of associate, we’ll say) gets in deeper and deeper into this murky world as she’s swept up in the success of her made-up missives. She’s found her audience and, as any writer will attest, you can’t beat having great sales. For Israel, these creations, while forgeries, are proof of talent. “They’re literary treasures. One-of-a-kind, carefully written witticisms. They’re not just a piece of paper,” she spits at Hock at one point.
And she’s not lying; she truly had an aptitude for mimicking the greats. “She understood how people’s inner personalities worked without her own personality colouring that. Noel Coward is one of the wittiest people who ever lived. That she could do Noel Coward is remarkable,” Heller told IndieWire. “The scariest thing for her was to be herself.”
Hock, for his part, puts his own pressures on the friendship. Grant has rarely been better. Hock has dignity, even though he’s living largely on the edge, and life is certainly not serving up the sort of glamour he expects. The world is beating him down, sometimes literally, but he’s not out. His outward joie de vivre is not only gloss, it’s protection, and Grant’s exploration of a man grappling to stay part of the human race is heartbreaking beneath the acerbic humour.
In an interview with Vox, Grant said: “I think of people I meet in animal terms: what kind of animal are they, first and foremost? [For Israel and Hock] she’s a porcupine to his Labrador... I thought that was the most bizarre dynamic: Two animals that would never, ever be together, but somehow they go through little journeys together.”
So when we’re talking about real representation on screen for the LGBTIQ community, this film is a worthy addition. Because stories shouldn’t always be about the young, the beautiful, the likeable. Sometimes we are that work colleague you hope beyond hope you don’t get in the Secret Santa. Sometimes we find ourselves not invited to the party. Sometimes we want something a little bit wrong.
That’s where Can You Ever Forgive Me? finds its niche. And, thanks to McCarthy’s gorgeous portrayal of an un-gorgeous gal, it leaves us with no doubt about the answer to the film’s title question. But then, no matter whether we pardon Israel or not, it’s only words.
Our stories shouldn’t always be about the young, the beautiful, the likeable. When talking about real LGBTIQ representation on screen, this film is a worthy addition.