Wicked Little Letters
“Wicked Little Letters” on Netflix is a wonderfully funny film with a sharp edge that rides just under the surface. It stars Olivia Coleman as Edith Swan and Jessie Buckley as Rose Gooding, and is based on an actual scandal in 1920 in the English town of Littlehampton, which made headlines across the island.
The screenplay was written by Jonny Sweet, a British comedian and actor, who said he found the story while he was “nosing around 1920s neighborhood stories.” “It had a bit of substance to it, as well, a bit of weight, and felt like there was a sort of sadness underpinning how ridiculous it all was.” Sweet said that “lots” of the original letters are in the film. He had a cameo in the film as the Daily Mail reporter.
“Wicked Little Letters” reunites Coleman and Buckley, whom I first saw together in “The Lost Daughter.” Coleman played the older Leda Caruso and Buckley played the younger Leda. I also saw Coleman in the police procedural “Broadchurch,” the series “Fleabag,” and the film “Empire of Light.”
Edith is a middle-aged unmarried woman living at home with a mother who is afraid of everything and a father who terrorizes them both. She is, to put it mildly, tightly wound. She is receiving anonymous letters that are hateful and vulgar. For example: “Dear Edith, you foxy-ass old whore. You really are a tricksy old fucker. You belong in Hell, probably, and you’re a sad, stinky bitch as well.” That kind of language would have gotten you laughed out of my 7th grade homeroom class in mid-1960s Brooklyn.
“Everyone” is sure the author is Rose Gooding, Edith’s next-door neighbor. Rose is full of life, foul-mouthed, laughs a lot, loves her family, and doesn’t take shit from anybody — the kind of person Edith admires. Later on in the film, Rose gives Edith a lesson in how to really curse. It is a gem. I won’t tell you what Rose said, but it involves Queen Victoria, her vagina, and a nettle. Now that would have impressed my 7th-grade classmates.
Edward Swan, Edith’s father (played by Timothy Spall), explains why Rose is the culprit: “She has it in for Edith. That woman curses like a fish. She’s got straggly hair all the time. And she marches around on the Sabbath with feet as bare as goose eggs.” What more proof do you need?
Rose is arrested for the crime. Why would I write a letter when I can curse Edith to her face? Rose asks the judge. The unspoken answer is that she is poor, Irish, an immigrant, and a woman who does not behave as a proper English woman should. As Edith says to her, “Rose, you’ve turned up to Christian Women’s Whist without invitation, carrying liquor and, I might add, with a general attitude of Ireland.”
While she awaits trial, four women from the neighborhood band together to try to prove her innocence. In the meantime, Rose and Edith circle each other and more anonymous letters appear. Edith’s mother, Victoria (played by Gemma Jones) intercepts one of the letters and, upon reading it, has a fatal stroke.
The humor is brilliant. In one scene, Rose and her daughter, Nancy (played by Alisha Weir), arrive home to see the words “Die Slut” painted on the front door. Nancy looks at Rose, who replies, “It’s German.” I burst out laughing — I was not expecting that.
One of the four women who believes Rose is innocent is Woman Police Officer Gladys Moss, played perfectly by Anjana Vasan. She is the only woman on the police force and is patronized unmercifully. When Constable Papperwick (played by Hugh Skinner) brings Edith in to give a statement, Moss is present in the room. Papperwick explains to Edith, “Woman Police Officer Moss joins in [interrogations of] female ones in case of hysteria and general tears.”
At the funeral for Victoria Swan, the local vicar warns the mourners that they are living “in a time when our morality is threatened and women everywhere are losing their decorum.” (The suffragist movement was in full swing.)
Rose and Gladys also have a back-and-forth about handwriting and grammar that is worth the price of admission.
Both Rose and Edith harbor secrets that get to the sharp edge running underneath the story. How these two women respond to the exposure of those secrets, is perhaps more satisfying than the discovery of the author of the wicked little letters.