No need to forgive Heller, McCarthy, and Co.: Their film is terrific
“As an unknown, you can’t be such a bitch, Lee,” book agent Marjorie (Jane Curtin) says to her down-and-out client, author Lee Israel (Melissa McCarthy), in director Marielle Heller’s terrific new film Can You Ever Forgive Me? But the great strength of this based-on-a-true-story picture is that Lee is a hard personality; unlikable, acerbic, alcoholic, and misanthropic, Lee is tough and complicated. She’s far from a typical charming and redeemable female protagonist, which makes Heller’s film both unusual and refreshing, and McCarthy’s performance here one of her best to date.
McCarthy, who I’ve often found a bit too broad in her comedic roles, tests her dramatic chops here, and successfully channels her comedic openness into a fierce performance rich with nuance, sensitivity, and complexity. Working from a screenplay by Nicole Holofcener (Enough Said; Friends with Money; Lovely and Amazing) and actor Jeff Whitty based on Lee Israel’s memoir of the same name, McCarthy brings to life writer Lee’s incredible story, an inherently interesting tale in its own right that Heller and co. tell with a pointed, no-excuses honesty. In the ‘70s and ‘80s, Israel had some success as a biographer, with books on Tallulah Bankhead and game show panelist Dorothy Kilgallen (which actually made the NY Times bestseller list). But her Estée Lauder bio wasn’t received as well, and she soon fell out of favor, with the Lauder book ending up on remainder tables, and her dream of writing a Fanny Brice book quashed by her exasperated agent Marjorie.
Struggling to the pay the rent on her squalid, fly-invested Manhattan apartment and care for her sick cat — pretty much her only friend — Lee sells a letter she once received from Katharine Hepburn. When Lee realizes the money that can be made from “the world of elite literary collectible letters,” as the film terms it, she begins writing and selling forged letters by famous authors like Noel Coward and Dorothy Parker, and finds she has a real knack for capturing the tone of the literary greats, which lifts her confidence, as well as provides her with much needed income.
She runs into Jack (Richard E. Grant), a fellow caustic petty scammer, at a bar one afternoon, and the two trade cutting quips (talking about an acquaintance who recently moved to the suburbs, Lee notes, “… better to have died,” to which Jack readily agrees). A bond is formed, and Lee enlists Jack’s help in selling the fake letters, which proves useful when book shop dealers become suspicious of Lee after a Coward expert notices some discrepancies in one of her knock-offs. Feeling the heat, Lee moves on to stealing original letters from author archives and replacing them with copies to cover the thefts. In all, the film tells us, Lee wrote and sold about 400 forgeries, and two of her Coward fakes even made it into an official biography before the ruse was discovered.
While criminal, of course, the story intrigues because of its ingenuity, and, because, like any caper worth its salt, it worked. Yes, Lee is an anti-hero, but we find ourselves rooting for her because we’ve all been there – down on our luck, desperate for anything to get us back on top (and who hasn’t wanted to steal toilet paper from a fancy, pretentious party, or take home someone else’s checked coat, as Lee does?). And Lee needs the ego boost, after feeling rejected by the literary world, which, she learns, gives Tom Clancy a $3 million dollar advance, while she can’t even get a paltry $10,000 for her next project. “I’m a better Dorothy Parker than Dorothy Parker,” she muses at one point, and we feel her. Her literary sensibilities aren’t rewarded the same way as Clancy’s military industrial thrillers; such is the struggle women writers have long been up against.
Lee’s story plays out in ways both expected and unexpected, but, through it all, McCarthy makes Lee wholly unique, and always unapologetically herself. Even a conversation with a judge — in which the viewer might expect some remorse from Lee — turns out not exactly how you’d expect, which is a credit to both the screenplay and to McCarthy’s unembellished performance.
Just as good, though, is Richard E. Grant, whose flamboyant and equally unashamed Jack (he proudly announces he’s been banned from Duane Reade) makes a perfect partner for the more aloof Lee. The two have a lived-in, believable chemistry, and via their disagreements and affection, we come to understand some of the deeper elements of Lee’s personality that she keeps so tightly under wraps. And watch their final scene together carefully; it’s a master class of subtle acting that’s heartbreaking in its veracity. Curtin, too, is excellent in the small role of the fed-up Marjorie, and Dolly Wells has a nice turn as a bookshop owner who sees past Lee’s hard exterior and forms a tentative connection with her.
Lovely and lonely winter street scenes of New York City help add to the picture’s sense of isolation and melancholy, as does a recurring use of Paul Simon’s song “Can’t Run But” which perfect suits many of the film’s quieter, painful moments. Lee isn’t an easy character, but her story is so mesmerizing, and McCarthy and Grant bring it to life so brilliantly, that you won’t regret investing a few hours with them.
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Can You Ever Forgive Me? opens today at Bay Area theaters.
