Can You Ever Forgive Me?

A struggling writer (Melissa McCarthy) finds herself burdened with debt and stuck in the unmarketable fringe.

The rent's three months overdue, her cat's sick, her agent insults her, and she's just lost her job.

Somewhat of a recluse, a misfit, a misanthrope, a prickly pear, she sticks to her preferred hard liquor and settles down to stiffly agitate.

When suddenly an old acquaintance emerges (Richard E. Grant), a holds-nothing-back consume-whatever rough-and-tumble maelstrom, the two cultivating hospitable least resistance as they begin revelling in blunt parched mischief, a literary filmic modus operandi insouciantly scarifying thereafter, like a perky hangover maladroitly banished, or a banana split covered in red wine gravy.

Boldly.

She begins forging letters from deceased prominent authors and he helps her sell them after the FBI catches wind.

She likely would have written something noteworthy of her own beforehand had she just sat back and written something.

Setting her own limits then challenging them.

Like Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

Read other books though, enjoy them, devour them, don't worry if people criticize you.

Proust even wrote, "mediocre people generally believe that to let oneself be guided by books one admires takes away some of one's independence of judgment, [whereas the best people] feel that their power to understand and feel is infinitely increased [by contact with greatness]"(from "On Reading" as quoted in Benjamin Taylor's Proust: The Search).

Proust has an ingenious quote for so many demotivating doubts artists face.

And the judgments they encounter.

Peppered throughout his writings like garlic infused bannock.

Impoverished enrichment.

Incandescent flow.

Marielle Heller's Can You Ever Forgive Me? comedically enriches sloth to parasitically bewilder recrudescence.

Its poetic good times inflate the freewheeling to emancipate hope and thwart desperation.

Melissa McCarthy finally has a companion piece for Bridesmaids and Richard E. Grant keeps things spry.

I disagree with Lee's methods but can't deny her talent, a lazy way to imaginatively conjure, which revitalized dull conversations nonetheless, even if their contents were strictly anathema.

Worth seeing.