Last night: Wicked Little Letters (Sharrock, 2024)
The seaside town of Littlehampton, sometime in the early 1920s. Edith Swan (Olivia Colman) lives with her parents, and is the very model of piety and temperance. She knows her place. The two men in her life, Jesus Christ and her father (Tim Spall), dictate her every thought and deed.
The Swans have a new neighbour, Irish immigrant Rose Gooding (Jessie Buckley). She’s everything Edith isn’t. Brash, confident, independent. She likes a pint. She has a black boyfriend and a white daughter. Oh, and her language! My word!
Edith is shocked by Rose. Appalled, even. But she likes her in spite of herself. Does she find Rose’s free-spiritedness liberating? Maybe. They strike up a tentative friendship. Edith hopes to “save” Rose, if she can.
After a public spat between Rose and Edith’s father, the relationship between the women sours. As soon as this occurs, Edith begins receiving letters in the mail. Vicious, spiteful letters full of language that would curdle milk.
“You foxey-arsed old whore, you’re a piss-country old stinker with shit hair”
“You great big f@cking onion”
“You want f@cking in the nose holes, you old beetle”
(The preceding is just a tiny, tiny example of the corkers that I could remember; this movie is as sweary as Goodfellas)
Now, Edith and her parents naturally assume that Rose is the author of these poison pen letters and, given both the sheer amount of letters sent plus the uptight morals and propriety of the time, Rose could be in a lot of trouble here. She’s looking at a stretch inside, and losing custody of her daughter.
The local constabulary consider this an open and shut case. Rose is the only suspect. Job done.
However, Woman Police Officer Moss (Anjana Vasan) - a constable widely ignored by colleagues and townsfolk alike due to her sex - doesn’t agree. She doesn’t buy that Rose, a woman who will happily tell anyone to their face to f@ck themselves, would suddenly hide behind a pen and a postage stamp. With no help from her male co-workers, it’s up to WPO Moss and the local Women’s Whist club to winkle out the real culprit before the Beak sends Rose down.
As you may have gathered, Wicked Little Letters is not a film I’d have chosen to see in a hundred thousand years. A true(ish) story of a quaint British brouhaha in a seaside town between the wars? Oh crikey, no. This was very much a mrs.caress pick. But I’m so glad she picked this one because it was really enjoyable. Funny and engaging throughout, and full of faces I knew from numerous contemporary UK comedy shows (Oh, look! There’s that guy from This Country! There’s that woman from The Thick of It! There’s Sidekick Simon from Alan Partridge! Et cetera!)
If you get an opportunity to see this one, give it a go. You foxey-arsed old whores.
