Post apocalyptic
SHATTER THE TRANQUILITY OF AN ENGLISH VILLAGE IN RIBALD
“THIS is more true than you’d think,” teasingly promises director Thea Sharrock’s gloriously foulmouthed comedy drama, based on a genuine poison pen letter case that scandalised post-First World War Britain and vaulted the sleepy seaside town of Littlehampton onto the front pages of national newspapers.
Wicked Little Letters revels in the tightly buttoned attitudes of an era when female police officers were casually disregarded by the old boys’ network and handwriting analysis lacked credibility in proving a suspect’s innocence.
God-fearing spinster Edith Swan (Olivia Colman) lives in the quiet coastal community with her iron-fisted father Edward (Timothy Spall) and mother Victoria (Gemma Jones), conducting herself in accordance with Christian teachings.
Edith befriends her rambunctious next-door neighbour Rose Gooding (Jessie Buckley), an Irish single mother who speaks her mind regardless of consequences.
The two women are polar opposites and Edward vehemently opposes his daughter fraternising with a foul-mouthed immigrant, who shares a chaotic home with her young daughter
Nancy (Alisha
Weir) and new boyfriend Bill (Malachi Kirby).
Following an altercation at Edward’s birthday party, Edith begins to receive hateful handwritten missives full blush-inducing slurs.
The Swans are soon convinced that Rose is the culprit and Edith reluctantly makes a statement to Constable Papperwick (Hugh Skinner) at the police station.
As Rose stands trial, fellow officer of
Gladys Moss (Anjana Vasan) defies her superior, Constable Spedding (Paul Chahidi), to challenge the evidence and expose the real culprit with the help of residents Ann (Joanna Scanlan) and Mabel (Eileen Atkins).
Aside from one well-timed blow to the head with a shovel, Wicked Little Letters inflicts damage with verbal grenades tossed around with visible relish by a fine cast. Buckley and Colman are spirited sparring partners and Spall exudes menace as a fusty patriarch wielding insidious control over his terrified daughter.
The identity of the pottymouthed author is evident to any fan of Murder, She Wrote or Scooby-Doo before Sharrock formally unmasks them on screen. However, the devilishness is in the details of the relationships between the female characters. Comedian and screenwriter Jonny Sweet’s script careens like an excitable puppy between hotbutton topics including domestic violence, institutional sexism and xenophobia but doesn’t dwell long enough with any issue to dig satisfyingly beneath the surface.
The identity of the potty-mouthed author is evident to any fan of... Scooby-Doo