It takes the deft hand of Mike Leigh to make a film featuring perhaps the angriest woman in the world, that ultimately is about love. Nearly 30 years after their first collaboration on his 1996 film “Secrets & Lies,” Leigh reunites with actress Marianne Jean-Baptiste to deliver a film of the times, but one that will likely endure beyond it.
“Hard Truths” revolves around Pansy Deacon, an anxiety-ridden misanthropic stay-at-home mother in London. She’s extremely opinionated (why do baby clothes need pockets?) and extremely particular (her home is tidy but bare), and her slow but steady unraveling over the course of the film is phenomenally portrayed by Jean-Baptiste.
It can seem like Pansy is shouting for nearly ¾ of the film. And at first, she seems to revel in her complaining. It’s not just that she’s unable to stop doing it, it’s that she seems to be doing it on purpose, too. But as details about her past are unearthed, and as she finds herself in quarrels of increasing frequency, a truth emerges: Pansy argues and complains — almost compulsively — pushing the people around her away, yet what she craves most of all is understanding. She is a deeply lonely person, desperately wanting not to be but unable to help herself change.
Like many of Leigh’s films, “Hard Truths” is light on plot, instead focusing on characters — characters who simply are the way they are. Instead of story-driven arcs forcing change, his films lay his characters out to bare, slowly but surely picking them apart. When watching a film with an ensemble cast or many moving parts, portions of it might become clear after the film is over, and have settled in the audience’s brains. Leigh has a habit of forcing this realization to repeatedly happen throughout his films, instead.
Part of this narrative choice is down to the writing — Leigh wrote “Hard Truths,” just as he wrote most of the films he’s directed — but part of it is also the editing. Leigh doesn’t exclusively work with one editor (Jon Gregory makes more-than-frequent appearances in the credits scrolls of his films, though “Hard Truths” was cut by Tania Reddin). Yet there is still a distinct style to his films, a result perhaps of Leigh’s own taste. Scenes often fade out fully, or are cut together in a way that either lingers a second too long or for a second not long enough. In films like “Another Year,” this style can sometimes undercut the gravity of the performances. But in a film like “Hard Truths,” this no-nonsense sensibility instead works with the performances, heightening tension in an otherwise structurally sparse film.
While the structural beats in “Hard Truths” might be sparing, Pansy is anything but sparing when it comes to her arguments. In one sequence, she verbally eviscerates a furniture shop employee, who merely asks if she needs any help buying a sofa. The scene is entertaining and excruciating both; Pansy seems unaware of how she affects other people, especially in public. This interaction is very apparently an overreaction — and after, when she sits alone in her car, it’s clear that she feels confused by and distanced from the world around her. It’s in this moment that it becomes exceedingly clear that there’s something besides anger lurking under Pansy’s prickly surface, an idea that will only deepen as the film continues.
Pansy’s public outbursts are the most outlandish ones, and the least logic-based (in comparison to her at-home critiques, which at least seem based in reality). It’s in these moments, also, that she is the most derisive. It’s only in public that Pansy is questioned by the people around her. Her husband Curtley (David Webber) and son Moses (Tuwaine Barrett) are oft-silent bystanders to her rants, and while her sister Chantelle (Michele Austin) occasionally pushes back, it’s still less combative.
While Pansy’s separation from the rest of society is explored in various and occasionally humorous ways, the most heartbreaking gap is between herself and Moses. A steady and reticent figure throughout, Moses is clearly very personally affected by his mother’s near-constant criticism of him. His daily walks around London are a small reprieve, yet even those are lined with a sense of melancholy and isolation. Barrett’s performance is sparing yet effective, and the small details of his character — he loves airplanes, it seems — speak volumes.
Leigh’s films are marked by the staggering performances within them, a result of his extensive and collaborative rehearsal process with his actors. His characters all feel distinct, not only from each other between films, but from each other within films; Pansy and Chantelle are recognizably sisters by the way they interact, yet have completely opposing demeanors — and it would be absurd to claim David Thewlis’ Johnny in “Naked” to be similar to any other character in Leigh’s work, even the equally-dreadful Jeremy in the same film.
Jean-Baptiste’s role in “Hard Truths” is an incredible contrast to hers as Hortense in “Secrets & Lies.” In the 1996 film, the emotional subtleties of her performance are paired with a generally demure demeanor. Hortense is calming, and exceedingly understanding despite moments in which she’s clearly frustrated. Pansy, on the other hand, is a pressure cooker waiting to explode, and is under no pretext to hide it. She’s abrasive, opinionated and loud from the get-go. Yet once again, the emotion behind Jean-Baptiste’s performance is subtle, and creeps into the audience’s consciousness over the film’s runtime. The contrast between Pansy’s outward appearance and inward fears is layered and mixed together; Jean-Baptiste walks a delicate tightrope throughout the film, so skillfully that it’s almost easy to miss. Pansy’s louder outbursts are always underscored by her more personal anxieties, and her confessions of quiet honesty towards the end of the film are still flavored with frustration.
There’s a moment in the latter half of “Hard Truths” where Pansy and Chantelle arrive at Chantelle’s flat. Chantelle gets in the elevator to go up, but Pansy, apparently claustrophobic, insists on taking the stairs. As Pansy climbs the stairs to the rooftop apartment, it’s clear how deeply alone she feels. She’s framed by a seemingly endless staircase, one that she’s climbing by her own doing, and finds it physically difficult to keep going at certain points. Yet when she reaches the top, Chantelle is waiting for her outside the door. For how stubborn Pansy can be, for all that she strays from the ways the rest of her family lives and behaves, it’s clear that just as Chantelle asserts and despite what Pansy fears, they all love her.
“Hard Truths,” even disregarding its small mentions of the COVID-19 pandemic, is a film distinctly of its time. Society at present is one plagued with cynicism, perhaps not as overt as Pansy’s, but equally pervasive regardless. Films dealing in sincerity can feel like a breath of fresh air — and “Hard Truths,” not unlike Pansy, is only cynical on its label. It’s through Pansy’s unraveling that a message becomes clear: misanthropy is just a mask for fear. And once that mask falls away, change can — and maybe it won’t, but it can — happen.