Can You Ever Forgive Me?

This is one of those biographical films that really sneaks up on you. It's based on the true story of Lee Israel, a struggling celebrity biographer who turns to forging letters from famous writers. Melissa McCarthy plays Lee, and honestly, it’s so refreshing to see her in this more dramatic, surprisingly vulnerable role (she's usually all comedy, but here she's just... real). There’s this subtle sense of desperation that runs through the entire film, and McCarthy nails it — the mix of wit, gloom, and faint glimmers of hope.

The film’s atmosphere is perfectly grimy New York, drenched in dim lighting and stacks of thrifted books. The cinematography captures that early-nineties sense of faded grandeur, almost as if the scenery itself is resigned to being overlooked. The script, too, is sharp and a little bit melancholic, making you root for Lee even as her situation unravels. Every bar and cramped bookstore feels lived-in, like you’ve wandered right into a quietly desperate chapter of someone’s life.

Richard E. Grant is just brilliant as Jack Hock, Lee’s flamboyant, often troublesome partner-in-crime. Their chemistry is offbeat but warm, and their late-night escapades are both funny and sad in the way that only true stories can be. Their banter brings bursts of energy to the film, and Grant especially delivers a performance that's both larger-than-life and totally heartbreaking.

If there’s a flaw, it’s that the pace sometimes trudges a bit and there's a quietness that not everyone will appreciate—it's slow, more character study than caper. You don’t get lots of traditional “wow” moments, but instead, the movie lingers on smaller, lonelier truths. That can make it feel a bit drab or meandering if you’re after big spectacle.

You would enjoy this if you like movies about messy, prickly people, old New York, and the peculiar line between right and wrong. It’s for anyone who appreciates strong performances and an underdog story that doesn’t sugarcoat things. Maybe especially if you’ve ever felt a little lost, or found, in the pages of a library book.