Thursday, 20 February 2025

Hard Truths



Even setting aside Marianne Jean-Baptiste's superb performance as Pansy, an anxious agoraphobic who struggles to halt the invective that streams from her mouth, writer-director Mike Leigh's Hard Truths does a fantastic job of simulating the feeling of being trapped in a familial relationship with such a damaged and damaging person. There are, therefore, obvious and enjoyable lulls in which Pansy is just elsewhere. Characters such as David Webber's Curtley or Tuwaine Barrett's Moses, Pansy's husband and twentysomething son, are seen to be almost flourishing outside of their grey, sinkhole household. These brief reprieves from the criticism being blasted their way offer us tiny insight into each of these men but, as well, the audience needs and is given even more opportunity to get a feel for the lives that are lived in Pansy's absence. We spend a few minutes here and there with her nieces Kayla and Aleisha (Ani Nelson and Sophia Brown), the pair a younger and much more psychologically healthy reflection of Pansy and her patient, saintly sister Chantelle, played by Michele Austin. 

Although there are a few mild notes of disquiet in Kayla and Aleisha's relationship, any evasiveness we're able to pick up on very obviously hasn't curdled into the strident bitterness of Pansy. The pair are close enough to make time for each other away from stricter family obligations; supportive enough to enquire after the work stresses that have clearly been the subject of a previous conversation. Of course, Hard Truths isn't about this cohesive sororal relationships, it's all about Pansy. Initially, Leigh's film is grimly humorous, with Jean-Baptiste creating arguments and aggro out of thin air everywhere she goes. At least one of her targets is even more aggressive than she is: a supermarket car park roamer who interrupts a meditative moment to demand that Pansy make space for his clapped-out car. Pansy is indiscriminate though. Her tireless bark quickly becomes punishing and oppressive, especially when directed at those unwilling or unable to mount some kind of defence. Pansy sucks all of the oxygen out of every room she enters; her mere presence a dangling and wearying threat. Finally though there is a feeling of dismay: for all her faults, Pansy is herself trapped. A person fully in the grip of something that cannot be dispelled, no matter how many loved ones she badgers or belittles. 

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