Dear
Frankie is one of those rare gems (somehow actually written and filmed) that come
along occasionally and restore your faith in motion pictures as an art form. First
off it’s just a unrepentant tear-jerker, and by the end of it I’d leaked
enough duct juice to make a margarita. I practically had a migraine. I imagine
there are those critics who would attack it as being overly sentimental or a button
pusher, but the thing is, it’s nice to have those buttons pushed once in
a while and this film is so lovely and up-lifting that anyone who could sit through
it without losing a drop or two, I wouldn’t trust in public with a plastic
fork.
I’ve
been a great admirer of Emily Mortimer for some time and I’d looked forward
to the film (having only scene a few trailers) just because of her. One of those
actresses blessed with that look of inner strength, she chews up the Scottish
scenery. Years before, her character, Lizzy left her abusive husband, bringing
along her son Frankie as a toddler and her curmudgeonly, chain-smoking mother.
As the boy reached school age she invented him a father - a merchant mariner bound
to sail the high seas. As the title suggests, Frankie begins writing letters to
him and Lizzie would answer them using doctored postage. Something she did out
of a bit of selfishness, as Frankie is deaf and the letters were her chance to
hear her son’s thoughts.
The
three are forced to move from town to town whenever Frankie’s real father
(who looked for them endlessly via newspaper missing persons adverts) would get
too close. The story begins as they start anew in Glasgow, but things take a tricky
turn when the fictitious ship Lizzie had used in her letters turns out to be real
and soon after turns up in port. Desperate not to have her sons illusions crushed,
Lizzie goes on a hunt for a man willing to pose as the boys father for a day in
exchange for money. The trailer suggested that the film would become something
of a screwball comedy at this point, but thankfully it plays out much differently.
So
fond am I of this film, I’m loathe to give away any more plot points. Jack
McLehone is perfect as Frankie as are the measured and restrained performances
by Mary Riggans, Sharon Small and Gerard Butler as the would-be Dad. While the
film is a tear-jerker, it’s never specious and only one scene is calculated
(but it was inevitable) and it is laced with a good bit of humor, warmth and hope.
And blesses us with one of the most imaginative and heartfelt endings I’ve
seen in a film for I don’t know how long.
There
will be those who won’t quite grasp the great profundity of the ending -
in fact it took me a few moments thought to figure out who the last letter was
written to.
