Some people bring happiness and positivity into the world, illuminating the lives of all around them, and some make flowers wilt and milk curdle wherever they go. As Pansy, Marianne Jean-Baptiste embodies the latter sort in “Hard Truths,” coming away from her reunion with “Secrets & Lies” director Mike Leigh with her richest character yet — not economically speaking, of course, though we’d all be millionaires if we had a nickel for every blistering complaint that spills from Pansy’s lips.
“Hard Truths” arrives more than 50 years after Leigh’s first film, “Bleak Moments,” bookending a career of tough, tell-it-like-it-is looks at working-class British life. Frankly, that vague-sounding title seems better suited to a Criterion Collection boxed set of his work than to his latest (but not last, we hope) feature. A return to intimate kitchen sink realism after the grand-scale ambition of several relatively expansive period pieces — “Topsy-Turvy,” “Vera Drake,” “Mr. Turner” and “Peterloo” — the film offers just a wisp of plot to accompany its prickly but fair micro-portrait of an epically unpleasant wife and mother.
From the moment Pansy wakes up (with a gasp of sheer panic, most times), the world seems to vex her. Watch out, all who cross her path, as Pansy picks fights with practically everyone she encounters, be it a well-meaning supermarket cashier or the wary dental hygienist. She lobs insults at complete strangers, sizing them up in an instant before unleashing her put-downs (most of them hilariously on point, as if she should be writing for “Veep” or another of Armando Iannucci’s shows). Pansy’s misanthropy can be disarmingly funny, though it’s obviously much easier to laugh at such a person on-screen than it would be to do so in her presence.
“You don’t know my suffering,” she barks. “You don’t know my pain!” Where that would be enough to make most folks mind their own business, Leigh digs in. Driven by a sincere, nonjudgmental interest in what makes people tick, the director seeks to understand such a person, entrusting Jean-Baptiste to illuminate the character in much the same way he tasked Sally Hawkins with unlocking Poppy in “Happy-Go-Lucky.” Pansy and Poppy could be two sides of the same coin: One seems doomed to be miserable her entire life, whereas the other is incorrigibly upbeat, but both are contagious dispositions best experienced in moderation.
In either case, Leigh asks audiences to spend an uncomfortable amount of time in his characters’ shoes, counting on empathy to illuminate such extreme personalities. What must it be like to live with such people, as their families do? It’s a wonder that Pansy’s hen-pecked partner, Curtley (David Webber), can handle the near-constant criticism. Her son, Moses (Tuwaine Barrett), gets it even worse. Overweight and unmotivated, he spends his days playing video games, cowering from her vocal disapproval.
In another sort of movie, Moses might go shoot up a schoolyard, and audiences would know where that impulse had come from. But Leigh has a far less basic sense of cause and effect. His films don’t reduce to neat little loglines. They originate with the actors, who describe for Leigh one or more people they know in the real world. From this, Leigh identifies the characters, then instructs his ensemble to interact with one another, using such improvisations to shape the screenplay.
On “Hard Truths,” Leigh was keen to work again with Jean-Baptiste, developing a series of combative encounters over several days, rather than a traditional plot. What makes her tick? It can’t simply be upbringing, since her affable sister Chantelle (Michele Austin) radiates a very different energy. She sings and smiles, dancing along with her two grown daughters (Ani Nelson and Sophia Brown) in the privacy of their living room — the polar opposite of Pansy, whose negativity is a form of narcissism. While Pansy makes everything about herself, Leigh takes a slightly different approach, checking in with other characters, just to contrast how they behave in her absence.
Pansy may be a killjoy, but they love her anyway, as only family can. She’s been conditioned to expect the worst. For some, that might be a way of shielding themselves from disappointment, and yet, Pansy always manages to be let down or offended by existence. In some cases, she’s right — the cops do have a history of harassing Black citizens, and someone so skeptical of others is far less likely to be scammed — but Leigh and Jean-Baptiste make clear the toll such toxicity takes on her.
At times, it can feel like Pansy is holding her breath, as if resentment were a life preserver. “Hard Truths” might be easier to take if Leigh believed her troubles might be cured by catharsis, but of course, the rot is right there at the center of her personality. Jean-Baptiste plays it without mercy: Pansy lashes out in every direction when the unhappiness clearly stems from within. Mother’s Day is coming up, and Chantelle begs her sister to accompany her to the cemetery, where they can lay flowers on their mother’s grave. Pansy vents about how no one ever brings her flowers. And what would it change if they did?
Leigh’s films can feel shaggy and unstructured on first viewing, and “Hard Truths” is no different. But there’s profound poetry in every scene. While Pansy’s outlook on life seems all but intractible, the simple act of observing her may shift how we see the world. Opting to spend time with someone like Pansy can feel like marinading one’s soul in salt and vinegar, when in fact, it’s a cleansing experience: a chance to identify with the grouch, or to recognize her in ourselves.
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