There are few things in this world as satisfying as swearing and the British do it better than any other nation in the world. Just ripping a great swear when you're angry, or when you're happy, is so enjoyable. So a film that celebrates the joy of letting your innermost feelings out with profanity is something only the UK could deliver.
Based, apparently, on a true story of a spate of profanity-laced letters that rocked the sleepy Sussex town of Littlehampton in the 1920s, the film follows devout Catholic Edith Swan (Olivia Colman) who is horrified by continuing abusive letters that she believes have been sent by her next door neighbour and former friend Rose Gooding (Jessie Buckley). When Gooding is arrested and put on trial, a downgraded Woman Police Constable Gladys Moss (Anjana Vasan), has doubts.
Despite the farcical premise of the film, Jonny Sweet's screenplay is deceptively serious, underpinned by a very impressive score by Isobel Waller-Bridge. It's clear what Thea Sharrock, director of Me Before You and The One and Only Ivan, has seen in this story. It's not just about dropping a good F-bomb to a shocked post-Edwardian culture, the film is actually more about a woman's place in the world. The film makes clear the fact that it was the women of Great Britain who kept the nation going during The Great War, and that the returning men expected the status quo to return with nothing but a please and thank you from their wives, mothers and daughters. As the patriarchy does what it does best, it's the suppressed female rage that drives the real beating heart of this film.
As an Irish single mother with a black boyfriend, Buckley's Gooding is an easy target to pin the crime on. She's profane, outspoken and direct, and yet what no one seems to have considered is that if she's so direct why would she write anonymous letters? She's more than happy to have it out in the street. Only Vasan's WPC Moss seems to have thought about it on a deeper level after her superiors — played by Hugh Skinner and Paul Chahidi — don't see it. This undercurrent of prejudice is never overplayed, but just simmers below the surface.
Colman's Edith is desperate for more independence from her overbearing father, a perfectly loathsome Timothy Spall, but can't muster the right words. Her constant quoting of the bible while being both prideful and vain shows an indoctrination being slowly eroded.
Sharrock is also aided by a fantastic ensemble — Malachi Kirby, Gemma Jones, Joanna Scanlan, Lolly Adefope, Eileen Atkins, Alisha Weir and Jason Watkins — that get their moments to shine as the film takes darker and darker turns. While Colman and Buckley are as good as you would expect, it's Vasan's confident yet under-appreciated copper who runs away with the film.
What becomes clear is that Sweet's screenplay isn't all that interested in the mystery, dispensing with it by the halfway mark. It's more interested in the reasoning behind the letters, why it gripped the town and why Gooding is such a fiery character to begin with. This is the type of film that Britain excels at, films with a stern point about class, gender and a time and place. Yet one not above fart jokes, slapstick humour and the utter joy of hearing Olivia Colman scream the C-word.
Wicked Little Letters is in cinemas from February 23
