This weird little based-on-a-true-story tale about an anonymous letter writer who favors vulgar language primarily works so well because of its beyond-talented leads, Olivia Colman as Edith Swan, the letter receiver, and Jessie Buckley as Rose Gooding, the accused writer. I was once told by a British writer/director that all British films are about class, and Wicked Little Letters illustrates that fairly clearly. Set in a 1920s England seaside town, where Edith and other residents begin to receive letters full of unintentionally hilarious profanities, which particularly offend the God-fearing Edith, who still lives with her domineering father (Timothy Spall) and next door to Rose, her foul-mouthed single-mother neighbor. The two don’t get along much, but Edith does take pity on Rose’s situation and attempts a friendship, if only to stop the letters.
Rose swears she doesn’t have the time or money to send such notes, so the film becomes something of a mystery as to the identity of the writer. Even the police become involved, suspecting Rose with no real evidence. One local police officer, Gladys Moss (Anjana Vasan), takes the lead on the investigation, despite her male bosses telling her not to, as they believe Rose is the culprit, going so far as to arrest her and put her on trial. But when Moss and some of the local women—played by Eileen Atkins, Lolly Adefope, and Gemma Jones —begin to dig into the letters’ origins, they begin to suspect that the writer is someone much less obvious.
The film spends a fair amount of time in the households of Edith and Rose, neither of whom are living ideal lives. Edith is essentially a prisoner because of her demanding father, while Rose and her young daughter (Nancy Gooding, from Mathilda: The Musical, and upcoming Abigail) are looked down upon because they’re poor and with a father figure in the picture outside of Rose’s boyfriend (Malachi Kirby), who seems nice enough but is frequently tested by Rose’s temper.
Director Thea Sharrock (Me Before You, The Beautiful Game, out last week on Netflix) maintains a nicely balanced atmosphere of quaint and unassuming, with an undercurrent of bitterness and misogyny, with healthy doses of classism. Hearing such gifted actors swearing up a storm as they read these letters is extremely funny, especially Colman, who has such a talent for making swearing sound like pure blasphemy. There’s more going on under the surface of Wicked Little Letters than just this one joke, and the performances make it easy to find the criticisms of conservatism and religious fervor. The film isn’t exactly breaking new ground as social commentary or comedy, but the actors make it an enjoyable and entertaining trip into vulgarity.
The film is now playing in theaters.
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