It’s quite a hilarious thought that many other countries like to generalise Brits as being overly nice and proper. Spend a day in the company of a working-class Englishman or woman and you’ll find that that’s quite an inaccuracy. The more entertaining reality is that we Brits are quite colourful when it comes to reworking our language into the most obscene profanity this side of a pub after midnight. As it turns out, even a modest little town in the 1920s had its spell of profane controversy.
Little is known of the mild shake of Littlehampton’s curse-riddled letter conundrum. But what is known is that it led to a genuine imprisonment-or two. During those post-war days, the country saw an influx of immigrants and people looking for work. This town would see ominous, and anonymous, letters posted around the town, calling each person out in the most swear-filled way. Irish immigrant, Rose Gooding was blamed for this, given her penchant for obscene behaviour. But there was more to this story than anyone would’ve guessed.
With such a unique real-life tale sounding like something out of a comedic book or show, it stands to reason that someone was going to come along and make something out of it. We had to wait over one-hundred years, but it’s finally here. Is it worth the time spent making a movie on such a local controversy that has mostly faded into obscurity? Someone thought so. This is Thea Sharrock’s Wicked Little Letters.
As mentioned, this film recaptures the events that happened in Littlehampton during the 1920s. These powerfully vile letters start appearing through the letterboxes of the locals, but one family is particularly harassed. Edith Swan (Olivia Colman) is a middle-aged woman still living with her deeply religious and domineering parents. Made to serve her father (Timothy Spall) in a way that most women were treated those days, she finds issue with the freer spirit of her Irish neighbour, Rose (Jessie Buckley).
After having lost her husband to the war, Rose is living alone with her daughter, accompanied by her boyfriend Bill (Malachi Kirby). Rose enjoys the nightlife, runs around on her own free will and is proudly sexually active. Even still, she loves her daughter and would do anything to protect her. Often speaking her mind, you would think she’d be quite the contrast to Edith. Despite this, they become good friends. But after an incident that sees Rose insulted by Edith’s father, the two becomes enemies. Then the letters start turning up.
It seems obvious that Rose is the one doing this, but certain other townsfolk start to think there’s something fishier going on. It especially attracts the attention of police officer Gladys Moss (Anjana Vasan), the only female officer, whom is frequently undermined by her superiors and lives in the shadow of her deceased police father. Being the only one to truly explore Rose’s possible innocence, she tries to cooperate with her when she’s jailed, but Rose is far too proud to accept the help. The race is on, and stereotypes will be challenged.
We all love a good dose of bizarre circumstance. The draw of this film for many, including me, was the fact that such an entertaining piece of drama managed to shock this little town. Delving further into the film’s presentation of such an event, Sharrock clearly had a lot of fun playing around with the facts.
There is this moral conundrum that most real-life stories face when receiving adaptations: how much should you change in the process of entertaining audiences? While most of the general facts are kept true, we see Swan and Gooding expanded on. Swan, being this traditionalist religious devotee that turns her head at any sort of vulgarity, is followed by the tightening grip of her zealot father. Gooding is given far more depth than simply being a rather standoffish figure.
It’s a true testament to both Colman and Buckley that they elevate the material. Both have proven superbly diverse in the roles they’ve picked, and their clashing styles only solidify the individuals they champion. Neither character is particularly detestable, even Edith is more than just a nagging crone. The biggest delights come from how the two will switch mentalities from time to time, never being able to put up with it for more than a day. The greatest moments come from their tendency to butt heads.
Heightening the script is, of course, the letters. These swear-filled notes always manage to deliver some of the heartiest laughs. It’s like hearing your primary school teacher let out a curse: you can’t help but giggle and sit a little slack-jawed. The most authentic dialogue comes from these letters, reminding us of how quick-witted and creative we Brits can be. Some of these letters were passionately re-read from the original ones posted. It helps create a more natural and frankly direct atmosphere that no amount of seasoned writing abilities could ever hope to accomplish.
The exploration of these characters and the mystery behind who is sending these letters is what holds the film together. Colman’s restrained and severely demeaning existence is a lot more sympathetic than you would expect. Her constant quoting of the bible and belief that Rose can be redeemed if she gives herself to God is clearly a cushion for her depressed lifestyle. Contrasting that is the enigmatically free Rose, whom always finds a way to stand up for herself in an age when women are treated as inferior.
The feminist message is so important. More immature people may grumble at the need to “politicise” films these days, but for a film that tackles stereotypes and gender roles, there’s no more an appropriate direction. There are certainly times when this feels very ham-fisted. Vasan’s Gladys is frequently put down for her gender, with constant jokes surrounding the idiocy of the male officers. The more comedic overtone certainly helps these moments simply feel part of the universe, but I can’t help but roll my eyes in how thickly this is laid on. The fact that no one resorts to mocking her race, or Rose’s boyfriend’s race for that matter, is more ridiculous.
When the film diverts away from the curse-riddled dialogue and neighbourly rivalry, you do see the cracks start to show. The reveal of who has been writing these letters comes far sooner than would’ve been expected. And while it does lead to a darkly funny turn, it takes much of the wind out of the current of mystery. It does lead to some great moments of courtroom drama and sprinklings of emotional depth, but that second half does feel ultimately pointless. An enticing mystery can only remain engrossing when it’s keeping the audience in the dark as much as the main character.
This film mostly remains rather unexciting. The script is simple, which works well enough, and there’s nice moments of twists and turns that will catch you back a little, but the entire film keeps an identity of modest stakes. The plot is very thin, and the dialogue offers little outside of the fun bits of humour and cheeky language. Considering the talent of both Colman and Buckley, the entire film is riding on their backs.
This minimalist approach may be something you’re looking for. If you want a sillier, smaller mystery film, then you could do much worse. I do feel that there are too many ideas and other concepts that aren’t fleshed out enough-Rose being judged for her Irish background is only a footnote, for example-but it does get its point across clearly. It’s ultimately very British, and sometimes that’s all our less picky minds can want.
Never exceeding past a few fun jokes and some excellent performances, Wicked Little Letters is a decently enjoyable time that you could take your elderly relative to watch. But if you were looking for something more substantial, you may want to hold out for something a little more entertaining. Not exactly wicked, but a little bit of fun.
Written review by Conor Johnson.