Film Review: Wicked Little Letters

Wicked Little Letters is a true story about poison pen letters plaguing 1920s Littlehampton and the struggle to catch the author of them. Throughout this comedic retelling are very sweary, very enjoyable moments of levity that keep the tone of the story light-hearted despite some tension and drama. Director Thea Sharrock’s latest project is almost two hours of fun and roaring laughter from the audience, creating an atmosphere of playfulness that mildly contrasts from the film’s cursory exploration of the potentially sinister causes of the libellous letters. 

Edith Swan (Olivia Colman) is a repressed spinster living with her parents whose family is on the receiving end of the aggressive, angry, and downright mean correspondence. Colman’s acting, per usual, is phenomenal. Between the clever use of the camera, typically angled up toward her father Edward (Timothy Spall), and a childlike look in Colman’s adult eyes, the audience feels Edith’s lifelong desire to get the approval of her domineering father. 

Rose Gooding (Jessie Buckley) on the other hand, desires the approval of nobody. Her life is different in every way from the norm in Littlehampton; she likes to drink, likes to swear, and at first, likes her friendship with Edith. Her arrival in the sleepy Sussex town upsets the quiet atmosphere and traditional locals, meaning Rose is quickly made the scapegoat for the crimes. Buckley delivers a stellar performance by mixing boisterous energy with the subtle softness of a mother’s love, creating a dynamic character that would fit in well with the world of today.

Scattered throughout the film are intense scenes that begin to touch on the realities and sometimes deadly consequences of religious fanaticism, unchecked misogyny, and authoritarian households. Namely, Edith’s consistent self-deprecation in the name of religion (made more infuriating by Edward’s encouragement), police officer Gladys Moss’s (Anjana Vasan) daily run-ins with her male colleagues, and Edward’s overwhelming need for control over the only two women in his life (Edith and his wife Victoria, played by Gemma Jones). However, these complex moments are interrupted too soon by abrupt shifts to comedic relief, limiting the film’s scope and potentially diluting the general message. 

It would have been interesting to see the film take a more dramatic tone, focusing less on the absurdity of the story and more on the pervasive societal issues that created an angry woman feigning innocence. If the letters’ author had a theme song, it would certainly be “mad woman” in which Taylor Swift writes “no one likes a mad woman/you made her like that.” 

Additionally, the audience discovers the author of the letters toward the beginning of the film, though this reveal is underwhelming. While the audience must know the culprit early on in order to understand the other characters’ motivations, with more anticipation and higher stakes the dramatic moment could have packed much more of a punch.

While it doesn’t really comment on the pitfalls of society or the challenges of the day, Wicked Little Letters shows us what happens when a lie becomes too big and unadulterated female rage is unleashed on an unsuspecting town. Overall, the story can be summed up in the words of Olivia Colman: “Never repress a woman–it will come out.” 

Wicked Little Letters is now showing at Broadway Cinema.