Unfortunately, the majority of the time you see avowed Christians in film, they turn out to be villains.  Take today’s movie, for example, Wicked Little Letters (2023).  One of the female leads, Edith Swan (Olivia Colman), speaks in public in a manner befitting of any good Christian, yet carries on a clandestine, vulgar letter writing campaign that will makes you blush.  Yet, her behavior is portrayed to be the result of repression rather than the genuine freedom of being loved by Christ.  Instead, the heroine, Rose Gooding (Jessie Buckley), whose Irish brogue is full of every blasphemy and swear word you can think of, is the one seen as being liberated.  Before going any further, I would like to point out that what I am about to describe is a piece of quality cinema that I enjoyed.  I felt for Rose even if I did not approve of her language.  At the same time, it is full of the kinds of stereotypes against which I am working by writing these reviews for The Legionnaire.  There is power in the visual medium, and most of the time Hollywood would have you think that Christianity works against the betterment of society rather than being its real instrument of salvation.

There is an argument in the Swan household as Edith’s father and mother, Edward (Timothy Spall) and Victoria Swan (Gemma Jones), deal with the Wicked Little Letters.  They have received nineteen in total, and all of them contain such vulgarity that the Swans have finally had enough of this treatment.  The assumption is that it is their next-door neighbor, Rose, with whom Edith has had a falling out.  Rose had settled in their seaside English town with her daughter, Nancy Gooding (Alisha Weir), following the supposed death of Rose’s husband during World War I.  Rose has gone on to earn a reputation as being, well, let us just say not in keeping with the upright Christian women with whom Edith keeps company.  Still, Rose is devoted to Nancy, and Edith helps the Goodings by employing Rose with odd jobs and generally being friendly.  The unserved way in which Rose speaks is also intriguing for Edith.  The problems arise when Rose observes how Edward treats his daughter, and speaks out against obvious abuse.  Edith attempts to cover for Edward, which does not amuse Rose.  The next day, child protective services come to the Gooding’s abode, and the look of shock on Edith’s face tells Rose who called for this check.  With all this in mind, Edith worriedly goes to the police, who send Constable Papperwick (Hugh Skinner) to interview the family.  The blame for the trouble is placed squarely on Rose, who is arrested as she is coming out of a pub.  As she is being brought into the station, we meet Woman Officer Gladys Moss (Anjana Vasan).  This assiduous constable is the only female on the force, which is reinforced to her in all the expected sexist ways of which you can imagine.  Thus, her initial doubts that it is Rose penning the dirty missives go largely ignored.  This means that Rose, when she does not have the £3 for bail, is to be sent to prison until her trial.  Still, there are others in town who also do not agree with the conclusions reached by the constabulary.  It is these concerned women that come up with the funds to secure Rose’s release.  Once out, though, the letters recommence, which only adds to the public outcry against her.  As this goes on, despite orders to the contrary, Officer Moss continues to investigate the matter.  Her main contention is that the culprit’s handwriting and Rose’s do not match.  However, her superior, Chief Constable Spedding (Paul Chihidi), believes such analyses to be of little value, and threatens Officer Moss with suspension of she persists.  With this possibility hanging over her, she denies Rose’s request for help despite Officer Moss’ sympathy, also citing her duty of being impartial to a suspect.  As for Edith, despite her correctly talking of her desire for Christian humility, she seems to revel in the attention she gets from the newspapers.  This emboldens her to continue her work, sending another post to herself.  This one is read by Victoria, who dies in shock before Edith can get to it.  While Officer Moss has Edith fill out paperwork in the wake of the death, the former notices the distinct way in which the latter writes the letter “G.”  It matches the letter writer, meaning Edith is the one behind it all.  Yet, when Officer Moss brings this evidence to Chief Constable Spedding, she receives the promised suspension for her efforts.  Undeterred, she begins following Edith with some of the same ladies who helped pay for Rose’s bond.  They are nearly thwarted, though, when Edith notices them tracking her movements to and from the place where she posts her mail.  It looks like the trail might not go Rose’s way until she notices the same “G” on a sign for an ice cream stand, and remembered Edith talking about having helped her father make these displays.  This is used when Edith is placed on the stand, suggesting that she might be the penman.  However, the prosecutor calls into question the validity of Rose’s story about her husband, which swings courtroom opinion back against her.  The case is adjourned for the weekend, which gives Officer Moss and her comrades time to come up with something.  Remembering Chief Constable Spedding’s admonition that they need to “catch the culprit red-handed,” Officer Moss comes with a way to do just that using invisible ink on Edith’s next missive.  They get a little help from Rose, who spots what Officer Moss and the rest are up to, and decides to goad Edith in public.  Following a profanity laced tirade from this supposed Christian woman, Edith drops the letter in the box, which is retrieved by Officer Moss’ niece in front of several witnesses.  The invisible ink reveals Edith’s signature over the stamp.  Though this means prison for Edith.  The final scene is of her laughing as she is taken away in chains, gleeful to be free of Edward.

It may seem counterintuitive to say that Edith is free at the end of Wicked Little Letters.  After all, jail is the physical opposite of freedom.  What the movie would like you to think, however, is that she was in prison before she was ever handcuffed and sent to a cell.  The strict psychological grip Edward exercises over his daughter is meant to be the catalyst for Edith to lash out on the town with the letters.  Rose thus becomes a convenient scapegoat, allowing Edith to continue to vent her frustrations on paper.  There is an illustrative sequence of this when Edward perceives Edith as being too proud of what she has done, and requires that she copy a Scripture from Proverbs 200 times.  As she does this, you can see her anger grow until she is going to her secret stash of papers where she pens all her dirty words.  All of our characters are supposed to be representatives of women at this time who were, to be clear, treated as second class citizens.  Each of them has to deal with the patriarchy in some way.  Unlike what this or any movie would tell you, the driving force behind this is not Christianity.  It is easy to point the finger at the religion.  I would posit that, especially based on this film, you would be just as quickly as those who rushed to judgment about Rose.  Yet, if you read what, for instance, Catholicism has to say about the role of women in society, you will see that it is not as repressive as you might think.  There will, of course, be those that will quibble about women not being allowed to be priests.  The only answer I can give to that is that God has different purposes for members of each sex because, quite obviously, He created men and women differently. Please understand that this is not meant to refute anything about the way members of the so-called “fairer sex” were treated at the time the film is set.  Instead, the more accurate way to think of such things from a Catholic perspective is to note that how they were treated then, and now to a degree, is based on a false interpretation of God’s teaching.

If you watch Wicked Little Letters, you will hear Edith say many things that I admire as a Christian.  She talks about the importance of not judging others, and to treat everyone fairly.  At the same time, she is dealing with some terrible circumstances and she does so in a non-Christ-like manner.  We are all guilty of similar reactions at times as we are all sinners.  I just wish that Christianity was not so consistently deemed responsible for the larger sins.