And Mrs

Writer: Melissa Bubnic

Director: Daniel Reisinger

And Mrs does something magical, finding comedy that is somehow profound in death and bereavement.

Aisling Bea is magnetic as Gemma whose fiancé Nathan dies shortly before their wedding. In her shock, she decides she wants to go ahead with the ceremony. So far, so quirky. But from this basic set up, a wonderful plot develops. To go ahead with necrogamy, or posthumous marriage, she needs the permission of the Lord Chief Justice. In a Richard Curtis movie, it would only take a magic wand or two to secure this, but writer Melissa Bubnic and director Daniel Reisinger use Gemma’s persistent efforts to explore the deeper issues that makes this film so special. For a start, Gemma is forced to reflect on what it is she wants. Is her desire for this belated marriage really a cover for her grief? Or is her persistent wise-cracking evidence that she never truly loved Nathan? Part of the power of Bea’s performance is that this wound remains raw.

Nathan himself (Colin Hanks) is a real presence in the story. We see flashbacks to the couple’s relationship, but he also materialises by her side at key moments, reminding us of the the depths of Gemma’s grief.

Amongst a stellar cast, Harriet Walter is fabulous as the shrewd Lord Chief Justice, Amanda Vaughn, refusing to let sentimentality cloud her decisions. The writing for her and other more minor characters is flawless. Her character’s reflections on marriage (she has seen off at least two husbands) are exquisitely dry. Sinéad Cusack and Peter Egan give nuanced performances as Gemma’s parents, each convinced that Gemma’s decision is misguided.

Nathan’s wacky sister-in-law Audrey turns up from the USA. Audrey is a brilliant character, performed with immaculate comic timing by Billie Lourd. She starts as a completely loose canon, at one stage highjacking a legal conference and improvising a condemnation of a male speaker’s hardline views on treatment of sex workers. But as time goes on, portions of her background emerge, including the damage wrought by her mother’s early abandonment of her and Nathan.

Gemma’s best friends, cheeky airhostess Ruth (Susan Wokoma) and flamboyantly Mo (Omari Douglas) are a delight. Soon they are joined by Dylan, (Arthur Darvill) Nathan’s friend from the States, whose moves in a nightclub are something to behold. Beyond these is a wider cast of well-scripted minor character, including Nish Kumar as a pub landlord, Samuel Barnett as a chirpily camp legal assistant, an inappropriate funeral celebrant and a tactless dressmaker.

There isn’t a wasted moment. Even the scene in which two paramedics carry out Nathan’s body mixes shock and laughter. Gemma is plaintively asking if Nathan will be ok just as the paramedics get entangled with a bicycle on the stairs, losing control of the stretcher. The rigid body falls, her question bluntly answered.

And Mrs gives us a fresh vision of London. Gemma and Nathan live in a canal-side flat, and are regulars of the Prospect of Whitby. We’re taken through everything from pieces of rundown Thames towpath, to glossy visions of the Royal Courts of Justice, from Old Spitalfields Market to a steamy nightclub.

The music by Jason Fernandez works powerfully. Nathan’s love for the cheesy Partridge Family number, I think I Love You, becomes a way of Gemma’s tentative reaching towards the feelings for Nathan she could never express.

And the film’s wider exploration of how bereavement touches all our lives is quietly recognised by the closing credits, where cast and crew acknowledge family members and friends whose death is part of their lives.

And Mrs will be available on Digital Download from 2nd September.