Wicked it might be, but it's also confused

Here is a real oddity: Wicked Little Letters is billed as a black comedy but, while it manages to be that, it also has something of an identity crisis.

Based on the true story of a poison pen scandal in the seaside town of Littlehampton that scandalised England in the 1920s, Thea Sharrock’s film tells the story of neighbours Edith Swan and Rose Gooding.

When the latter moves in, she soon becomes known for her rambunctious behaviour – not least boozing and swearing.

By contrast, Rose is the pious, stay-at-home daughter of Victoria and Edward, a domineering man with very firm ideas about ‘proper’ behaviour – particularly when it comes to women.

When a series of obscene letters being arriving for Edith, suspicion falls on Rose. As the situation escalates, police officer Gladys May decides to investigate, having concluded that the case isn’t quite as straightforward as almost everyone else believes.

There is much that is genuinely comic in Jonny Sweet’s screenplay, but the story has a very dark reality to it. The identity crisis is because of moments where there are instances of the comedy moving into mugging and slapstick. These are not a comfortable fit.

It’s a shame, because there’s much to enjoy here – not least in the performances. There’s delightful support from Joanna Scanlon, Lolly Adefope and Eileen Atkins as local women who help Moss. 

Gemma Jones gives as lovely turn as Victoria and Timothy Spall is excellent as the deeply unpleasant Edward.

Anjana Vasan has some really fine moments as Moss, but she’s one of the cast who has been directed to go over the top in a couple of scenes. Malachi Kirby, as Bill – Rose’s boyfriend – seems to have been faced with a very scant sketch of a character to work with.

But the central duo are a major reason to see this. Jessie Buckley as Rose brings wonderful vivacity and warmth to the role, but real emotion when it’s needed. Olivia Colman as Edith is delicious as the prissy wannabe saint, but every bit as good in the scenes where we discover the lived reality behind this public face.

Wicked Little Letters is good on showing just how women were expected to behave at the time – and how they were judged if they refused to conform (pressures that have notion away a century on). It also acts as a useful reminder that ‘trolling’ existed well before the internet and social media – and the damage that it can do.