The Plot: Life should be quiet and straightforward in the 1920s English coastal town of Littlehampton. Not so though. There’s a master criminal at loose in the community, writing poisoned pen letters filled with fruity language and insults that would make William Shakespeare blush with jealousy. The main target is the prim and proper Edith (Olivia Colman), who lives with her elderly parents Edward (Timothy Spall) and Victoria (Gemma Jones). She’s outraged and suggests that the blame lies on an ongoing feud with her Irish neighbour Rose (Jessie Buckley). Rose is true to her name though and comes with thorns of her own. The chief of police appoints his so-called Woman Police Officer Gladys (Anjana Vasan) to investigate, but she suspects that there’s more to this story…
The Verdict: Period pieces need not be stuffy affairs which drone on about rose-tinted views of the past being better than the world we’re living in now. Amadeus proved that period pieces can actually be a lot more fun than they appear. When in the right hands of course and with the right delivery system to make it work regardless of the time period. That seems to be the impression that Wicked Little Letters is vibing off, being a riotous affair where words like ‘foxy’ are hurled like hand grenades between the characters as their feud comes to the very edge of morality and then tips it over into criminality. Stand aside, future battleaxes Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. The verbal war between Edith, Rose and whoever is writing these letters is far less civil and more saucy than one might think.
It’s drily amusing to hear such liberal usage of unladylike language in a sprightly period piece, but as British comedian Kenny Everett once observed it’s all done in the best possible taste. The opening title declares the film to be more true than you think and indeed, it’s based on an actual incident that might otherwise have been lost to history. There’s a very smart approach to the historical aspect at play here, thanks to Jonny Sweet’s script which eschews the typical trappings of the period piece to find the right balance between a story of then and more modern aspects like welcome colour-blind casting. The script hits the right notes time and again, portraying two very different women who give as good as they get but whose behaviour is becoming scandalous. It’s full of zingers which are laugh-out-loud funny, but there’s an emotional core and narrative truth to it too which work just as well.
The story benefits further from branching out beyond the two core characters to take in the village locals who dig deeper and might know what’s going on. This is where police officer Gladys comes to the fore, a sleuth of Agatha Christie proportions. Director Thea Sharrock moves beyond the soppy romance of Me Before You to add further fun to the proceedings as Gladys (an engaging Anjana Vasan) works on catching the master criminal with ink on his/her fingers. The film though belongs to Olivia Colman and Jessie Buckley, who previously appeared separately in The Lost Daughter. Their rat-a-tat verbal sparring is as delightful as it is mildly shocking, their performances pitched at just the right tone to make it credible. Sharrock doesn’t skimp on the heavy risks either. There’s a ticking-clock element later on which has real-world consequences for one of the characters.
Wicked Little Letters is a delicate balancing act then. It could very well have tipped more into either direction (too mean-spirited, too soft-centred). Thankfully, Sharrock finds the right balance of elements and performances to make her film a foxy little number that tickles the funny bone while pulling at the heart strings in a non-manipulative way. All that and our own Matilda, Alisha Weir, going potty-mouthed. She sang it herself – sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty. And so it is with this delightfully frank and funny film that is more on-target than most Hollywood comedies.
Rating: 4 / 5
Review by Gareth O’Connor
In short: Foxy little number
Directed by Thea Sharrock.
Starring Jessie Buckley, Olivia Colman, Timothy Spall, Gemma Jones, Anjana Vasan, Alisha Weir.