Can you ever forgive me?

Lee Israel is a biography writer who’s finding it harder and harder to get published. Her distaste for modern writing trends, together with a disposition that sees her liking cats more than people and generally isolating herself sees her running broke in early 90’s Manhattan. But on finding a letter while researching a Fanny Brice biography, she gets involved with the world of collectible memorabilia. And soon it becomes easier to manufacture her own fake memorabilia for the various literary snobs, and with the assistance of her drinking buddy, the vain but impoverished Jack Hock, she starts to pull off a scam that can only end in disaster.

Melissa McCarthy is a bit of an odd case of superstardom – coming reasonably late to the job (while she’s been a working actress for over 20 years, her big break in “Bridesmaids” was only 7 years ago, after the age of 40). And it’s true that some of her recent star vehicles have been less than impressive – such middling nonsense as “Identify Thief”, “Life of the Party” and “The Boss” are less the work of a comedic powerhouse than a hack milking her moment in the sun (It doesn’t help that her husband, Ben Falcone, has been the deeply middling director behind some of these duds). But underneath all that there is a deeply impressive actress who should not be underestimated – when given the right meat to chew on. And this is exactly the right meat – Lee is a fully rounded, complicated human being whose frustration verges but never tips over completely into self-pity. Her erudition, pride and disappointment with the rest of the world gives us a smart heroine whose adaptation to circumstances sees her finding a perverse kinda pride in capturing the voices of her beloved literary celebrities. Richard E. Grant is a worthy companion – the relationship remains spiky and ever-close to dissolving into complete disaster, and Hock’s independent pride that can never quite communicate how desperate his circumstances really are makes him a fascinating figure who keeps his dignity no matter how bad things get. This knows how to choose the “true story” elements and play them so that nothing feels thrown in just because it’s an interesting anecdote – everything contributes to the core portrayal of this character and how she finds herself in these circumstances. It's pretty standard for awards season to offer mildly contrived biographical arcs that feel twisted into fake inspiration – but this feels genuine and immersive and with a smart literary heart to it.