NEW YORK (AP) â and play women brought together by letters in the new film but their preferred means of communication is WhatsApp. With their husbands, they have a group chat with an unprintable name, inspired by the some of the foul language of their film. What do they write to each other?
âThereâs lots of 'I fâââ love you. Iâm going to snog your face when I see you,â says Colman.
âWith a long âuuuuuuu,ââ adds Buckley.
âWeâre wordsmiths,â says Colman.
Colman and Buckley have been good friends since they first met in a night spent, fittingly, with letters. âIs that how we met?" Colman says, jogging her memory. âBrilliant.â With an American accent Buckley chimes, âWhat a good angle.â
Each were attending a performance in Britain where actors dramatically read historical and literary correspondence. Buckley read a Maud Gonne love letter to WB Yeats. The night wore on with karaoke until 6 a.m. Songs included Adeleâs âSomeone Like Youâ and Amy Winehouseâs âBack to Black.â
âWhich maybe kind of summed up the night,â Buckley says. ââSomeone Like You,â thatâs a love song, isnât it? Oh, no, itâs a break-up song. We were just falling in love. âBack to Blackâ is about addiction.â
Buckley pauses for effect, and then adds, âI was addicted to you.â Colman cheers.
In Thea Sharrockâs âWicked Little Letters,â which Sony Pictures Classics will release in theaters Friday, Colman and Buckley play very different neighbors in 1919 England. Edith (Colman) is a conservative, church-going woman with a domineering father (Timothy Spall) who lives next to Rose (Buckley) a free-wheeling single mother who unabashedly spews salty language. When people around the village start receiving filthy anonymous letters hurling insults at them, suspicion turns toward Rose.
Itâs based on the real story of the which at the time became a national scandal. âWicked Little Lettersâ is a rare thing: a raunchy period movie.
âWe kind of have this idea of Britain and the women who lived in the 1930s were just making wholesome bread and going to church,â says Buckley. âBut the truth of it is they were filthy (expletive). Theyâre just like all of us.â
The film, which Colman produced with her husband, Ed Sinclair, takes place while suffragettes are marching. And while Edith and Rose become sworn enemies, they're bonded in their mutual experience of male oppression.
âItâs certainly acknowledging the journey that women have had,â Colman says. âIt was at that point better than it had been in previous points, and shows how far have we come since. We still havenât come quite far enough.â
Part of the delight of âWicked Little Lettersâ is that it puts a spirited pair of friends opposite one another for the first time, with Buckley playing a free and frank woman not so unlike herself and Colman playing something like her timid opposite. Colman called up Buckley to offer her the role.
âI said, âThereâs this script and it would be you and me as neighbors swearing at each other and having fun,ââ recalls Colman. âAnd I think you went, âOK!â"
In between interviews at a Soho hotel, Colman and Buckley's conversation focused mainly on how long they might have to hang out that evening. Or more specifically, how many drinks they could manage to squeeze in. âNew York is the land of dirty martinis,â Buckley declares.
Colman, though, was just flying in and out, and Buckley had an early call time the next day. It was a similar situation on Maggie Gyllenhaalâs âThe Lost Daughter," for which Colman also suggested casting Buckley. ("You owe me!" chimes Colman in a cockney accent.) But on that film, Colman and Buckley didnât have any scenes together, but overlapped on set for a week while Colman was quarantining.
âI would go, âCome on, when do you finish? What do you want to drink? Iâll have it ready,'" recalls Colman. "So weâd spend the evening in the sunshine and drink and play guitar and sing. And Jessie would go, â (Expletive). Iâm about to go to work.â You were so heroic playing late into the night and then going to work.â
When itâs pointed out that Colman seems like she could be a bad influence under such circumstances, Buckley immediately brightens.
âThereâs a joke amongst our friends where Oliviaâs like, âNo you canât go home.â At your birthday there was a whole song about not letting anybody leave the party.â
âI have done awful things,â acknowledges Colman, lowering her head. âI have locked my front door and hidden the key. (Changing to a drunk voice) âI donât know where itâs gone.â I have images of friends running. They see an open door and they go running.â
It perhaps goes without saying that Colman and Buckley bear little of the repression that lurks around the edges of âWicked Little Letters.â They're separated by some years â Colman is 50, Buckley 34 â but sympatico in infusing parts dramatic and comic with naturalness and spunk.
âThe biggest gift that this job gives you is that you get to learn something that you need to unlearn in yourself. Growing up into a woman from a girl is hard. Thereâs so much in our world that we think we need to be because itâs around us,â Buckley says. âWhat Iâve come to learn is you just have to keep educating and feeding and nurturing yourself. And thereâs something so much more interesting for you to say than adopting whatâs deemed acceptable in society.â
Working with people like Colman, Buckley says, has helped wake her up to those possibilities â possibilities she never imagined when she was 15 years old. âAnd I know that will never stop in my life,â she adds. âThere's too much to unpack!â
Colman takes up Buckley's thread.
âI do love the fact that I didnât get into any drama school apart from Bristol which I got into because somebody else dropped out," Colman says. "I love all the auditions I didnât get so I can go, âHa! In yoâ face.â I think it gives you a little bit of a fire in the belly.â
Soon thereafter, itâs time for Buckley and Colman to move along. As the sun gets lower on the downtown skyline out the window, the pair return to pondering their plans for the evening.
âWeâll do a little one,â says Colman, settling it. âWe are getting much more grown up, arenât we?â Buckley vigorously shakes her head. âNo?â responds Colman. âThen I can force you to stay out tonight.â
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Jake Coyle, The Associated Press