Punchy period piece powered by playful profanity
It’s irresistible, the profanity delivered in considerable doses by British actors, the tremendously talented Olivia Colman among them, in Wicked Little Letters, coming soon to digital platforms.
We can’t repeat much of it here, for we are far too polite, but know that a complex adjective that begins with “foxy” and ends with a three-letter word for one’s rear end is used repeatedly — before, for example, “old” and a five-letter word for prostitute — and to great comedic effect.
To understand this appeal of the film, know also that Wicked Little Letters is set in post-First World War England, in a seaside town not remotely accustomed to this type of language.
Fortunately, the mystery-based romp inspired by what was an actual ordeal that generated nationwide interest — “This is more true than you’d think,” the film’s opening on-screen text promises about this tale of insulting letters being sent to women anonymously — has more to offer than that, starting with the performances of Colman and costar Jessie Buckley.
Colman portrays Edith Swan, a never-married woman living with her mother and father, while Buckley is Rose Gooding, an Irish woman who moves in next door with her daughter, Nancy (Alisha Weir), and her new love, Bill (Malachi Kirby).
Rose is a stranger neither to a good time nor profanity, and Edith attempts to take Rose under her wing a bit by showing her what it means to be a respectable woman in Littlehampton. Rose is only so receptive, but the two become friends.
That is until Rose has a run-in with Edith’s strict and frequently disapproving dad, Edward (a delightfully loathsome Timothy Spall), at the latter’s birthday party. It is after this public dustup when Edith begins receiving the oh-so-colourful letters, calling her this, that and the other. It must be Rose! Who else?!? The police are convinced, or at least the male cops are. However, Police Officer Gladys Moss (Anjana Vasan, Cyrano) — or, as she’s commonly referred to by her dismissive colleagues, “Woman Police Officer Gladys Moss” — isn’t so sure based on the handwriting of the letter writer and Rose’s. The case isn’t hers, though, and she’s told by her boss, Chief Constable Spedding (Paul Chahidi), to stick to her duties and to remember her place.
Of course, she’s not going to do that. The daughter of a cop and a believer in justice being done, Gladys teams with other women in town to catch another suspect in the act.
Directed by Thea Sharrock and penned by Jonny Sweet, Wicked Little Letters keeps you guessing as to the writer’s identity for only so long, shifting to a court case with a twist or two.
All in all it’s largely entertaining fare from Sharrock, best known for 2016’s Me Before You and whose decent film The Beautiful Game debuted on Netflix last week. She is aided by collaborators including editor Melanie Oliver, who helps keep the affair jaunty, as well as cinematographer Ben Davis and composer Isobel Waller-Bridge, who, among others, add to its period charm.
Meanwhile, the screenplay by Sweet — a comedian and writer whose credits include the comedy narrative series Together and an upcoming novel, The Kellerby Code — is of the solid if unspectacular variety. Those profanity-laced attacks of the film’s namesake letters go quite a long way.
So, too, do the on-screen efforts of Colman (The Favourite, The Crown), one of the film’s producers, and Buckley (Men, Women Talking). If the pairing sounds familiar, they portrayed the same woman at different points in her life in the excellent 2021 drama The Last Daughter.