Can You Ever Forgive Me?
Directed by Marielle Heller
Starring Melissa McCarthy, Richard E. Grant, Dolly Wells, Dolly Wells, Ben Falcone
Reviewed by Michael Dalton
[rating: 5/5]
Can You Ever Forgive Me? is the name of Lee Israel’s short and to the point biography of her wild days as a master forger in New York in the early 1990s. Now it’s a film and a very good one (it’s a mystery that no one saw this delicious story’s cinematic potential before now) and writers Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty and director Marielle Heller wisely stick to the facts and smoothly deliver the tale of a desperate, well-read, and brusque woman who, down on her luck, spots a loophole and exploits it for all its worth. So yes, the story alone is a great one but what makes it fly, along with Heller’s unfussy direction, is Melissa McCarthy’s performance as Israel. In an unflattering wig, beige wardrobe, and rarely seen without a drink in her hand, few are safe from her acidic tongue and thundering indifference. Off to her side is Jack Hock, an Englishman who has somehow landed in New York, is slowly running out of gas, and is up for the fruits of Israel’s labours. As played by Richard E. Grant (and he and McCarthy are understandably a huge part of this award season conversation), Jack proves to be the perfect companion. Sleazy and outspoken, he’s just shady enough to join in on the outrageous con. This is a fascinating, controversial story you’ll want to eavesdrop on.
Nearly broke following the commercial and critical misfire of her biography about Estee Lauder, Israel is trying to get an advance so she can write a book about Fanny Brice. Such are her low sales, her editor (Jane Curtin), who doesn’t consider the subject matter particularly worthy, tells her it is out of the question so Israel sells a complimentary letter she received from Katherine Hepburn to a local book dealer (Dolly Wells) who is delighted and tells her she’d happily buy more. Soon after, while researching the Brice book, she finds another letter, this one from Brice herself, tucked into an old book which doesn’t sell for as much but then an idea starts forming, she rounds up more than a dozen typewriters, and gets to work. At first she’s a success writing letters from people like Lillian Hellman and Dorothy Parker but then she pens a letter from Noel Coward in which she’s too expansive about his personal life and the alarm is raised in the collectors community she’s been rorting. Finding herself on high alert, she then presses Jack into service.
To see it is to believe it. It’s a plain looking film but I can only attribute that to Heller’s absolute faith in not only the story but in her two leading players. This is the first role McCarthy has had since St. Vincent where she checks her trademark mugging at the door. Underrated and often dismissed due to her appearances in so many sleazy, lamebrained comedies (for reference check out the abhorrent Tammy from 2014 where at the top her voice she drunkenly offers her decrepit grandmother to anyone who might be interested), here she’s steady and solid. When we first meet Israel she’s drinking at her desk (she drinks a lot) as she works. She abuses a co-worker for ticking her off, her boss appears, and she’s fired. She attends a party soon after, grifts a warm coat from the coatcheck, and drinks some more. McCarthy has that special quality few actors have where she infuses the most basic actions with authenticity. And how wonderfully she pairs up with Grant who does smarmy better than most. Watch him in Robert Altman’s 2001 murder mystery Gosford Park where he lurked below stairs, sneaking cigarettes, sneering, and surveying the action. It’s easy to imagine his slinky butler could end up here, down on his luck, but never short of a bitchy retort. They’re the oddest couple but they bounce off each other, just as oddballs should. This is one of the year’s best films.
