"Happy Go Lucky"

(Warning: some minor spoilers in this post)

Poppy Cross, the heroine of "Happy Go Lucky," is more than a beautifully realized, infinitely complex character (although she certainly is that) she also proves to be a sort of Rorschach test for the viewer. What you see in her, how you react to her, is likely reveal to your deepest feelings about how good or bad the world is, and how much any of us can do to change it. It's not just that watching Poppy in action forces you to identify whether you're a glass-half-full or a glass-half -empty person; it goes deeper than that. She forces you to think through your entire worldview.

I don't know if writer-director Mike Leigh and actress Sally Hawkins had such lofty goals in mind when they collaborated on creating Poppy, but this much is sure: "Happy Go Lucky" is a deceptively lightweight and freewheeling film that actually touches on profound truths about our capacities for happiness and overcoming personal loss and pain.

Allow me to lay bare my own "Rorschach results" with regard to Poppy. Most reviewers have pegged her as being a genuinely happy person; I'd like to suggest that she isn't necessarily all that happy (and I'll provide evidence for that observation later). And while her perpetual cheerfulness and optimism are ultimately shown to be lasting and positive qualities, I'd also like to suggest that Poppy harbors more than a smidgen of youthful arrogance and naivete about her ability to change people's lives with a smile and joke, and that her interactions with the other characters in "Happy Go Lucky" force her to face the ultimate impossibility of injecting her rose-tinted worldview into the brains of the suffering people around her.

When we first encounter Poppy, she's riding her bike on a beautiful, sunny day. She stops at a book store, where she encounters an unsmiling, preoccupied sales clerk whom she makes it her mission to engage and amuse. There's a relentlessness and a desperation in her need to bring brightness into his day. At one low point, she resorts to telling him "I like your hat." The compliment gets no response. It's not a promising beginning. You may well groan inwardly at the prospect of spening two more hours in the company of this character.

But in the following scenes, we see Poppy out clubbing with her friends, then stumbling back with them to her flat where the night ends in gales of jokes and laughter. It's a well-calibrated transition, allowing us not only to see Poppy's penchant for zaniness in a far less annoying context, but also to sense some of her inherent warmth and nurturing qualities. Subsequent scenes of Poppy - teaching elementary school, hanging out with her flatmate, visiting a chiropractor for a back injury (which she exclaims "hurts so bad, it makes me laugh!"), going to flamenco dance classes with a co-worker -allow the full picture of Poppy to emerge. Her inherent goodness and openness shine through, but so does her irritating goofiness. Her compulsion to laugh, joke and entertain everyone around her (witness her exaggerated, "aren't we having a laugh?" facial expressions in the flamenco class) seem calculated to cajole her friends out of bad moods and to call attention to herself in equal measures.

And therein lies the central paradox of Poppy. Her good intentions are everywhere apparent, even in quiet scenes where she does no more than bring a mug of tea to her hungover flatmate or just enjoys chatting with a fellow teacher. Her life feels full, enjoyable and well-lived. But the compulsive comedy routine she lapses into when confronted with anyone else's bad mood seems to spring from as much from her own unmet needs for attention as from a genuine concern for them. And it suggests that, while she truly wants the people around her to be happy, she may not be doing the best job of carving out a deeper happiness for herself.

Nowhere is this more true than in the story thread where Poppy takes driving instructions from a gloomy, foul-tempered teacher, Scott, (played by Eddie Marsan who is every bit Hawkins' equal in brilliance here). His bitterness and just barely contained rage present a challenge to Poppy. She's a non-stop jokester, always trying to cajole him out of his bad moods. But as the lessons proceed, the mood in that training car grows darker. Scott is an angry racist with deep, long-simmering emotional wounds, but he occasionally makes very reasonable requests of Poppy, which she laughs off in an irritating way. (Like repeatedly defying his request that she wear flat shoes for driving - she instead shows up again and again in cute, high-heeled boots that she suggests have been previously worn for at least one evening of sexual escapades.)

Their final ride together is heart-stopping, and it culminates in Poppy's sobering realization of Scott's pain and potential for violence. Both Hawkins and Marsan are astounding in this scene; Marsan quivers with inexpressible anguish while Hawkins wordlessly conveys both Poppy's sadness for Scott and her own pain at seeing how her relentless buoyancy is perceived by someone who is truly and deeply unhappy.

Poppy's other brush with darkness is even more unsettling. Wandering home one night, she hears some incoherent phrase being repeatedly sung from someone under a bridge, and she seeks it out. The voice belongs to a mentally ill, homeless man (Stanley Townsend), who Poppy bravely goes on to engage in conversation. Townsend invests his character with a dangerous edge, and the scene is profoundly uncomfortable. It also feels a little contrived -what the hell is Poppy doing wandering around this dodgy neighborhood anyway? - as if Leigh included it to forestall any criticism that Poppy's optimism wouldn't stand up in the face of real trouble. Poppy's curiosity and need to connect with this man feel less admirable than forced and foolhardy; at one point, she asks herself "What am I doing here?" and I, frankly, had the same reaction.

Leigh fills the film with his trademark, slice-of-life scenes, and gives his actors room and time to explore and inhabit their characters. The interesting result is that some of the greatest keys to the characters' nature end up being contained in tossed-off bits of dialogue and throwaway bits of business that aren't highlighted dramatically (and feel all the more real for it).

For example, this early exchange between Poppy and Scott.
POPPY (to Scott): Are you Satan?
SCOTT: No, quite the opposite.
POPPY: Are you the Pope then?
SCOTT: No, that's the same thing.

Scott's equation of the Pope with Satan indicates some fundamentalist religious beliefs that aren't really explored, but may be of a piece with his racist rants later on.

Or take the subtle shift in Poppy's attire just prior to the final scenes. Throughout the film, her clothing has been careless, mismatched, and attention-grabbing all at once. Her wardrobe tends towards bright primary colors, and her outfits are inevitably accessorized with brightly-hued lacy tights, armfuls of bangle bracelets, and her ever-present boots.

Late in the film, however, Poppy makes a romantic connection with Tim, the social worker she's engaged to help a troubled student (Samuel Roukin). Tim clearly adores her, and after they spend a night together, Poppy changes into a subdued pair of jeans and jacket. Her flatmate remarks on the fact that she's not wearing jewelry, and Poppy replies that "It's that kind of day." It's as if, now that she's allowed herself to be truly seen and admired, she no longer needs to draw so much attention to herself.

Don't be fooled by these observations - there's no conventional dramatic arc in "Happy Go Lucky," and in the end, it isn't entirely clear to what degree Poppy's experiences have changed her. You may also find it odd that I haven't made many direct references to Sally Hawkins' performance, but do I really need to? Any actress who who creates a character so fascinating, frustrating and memorable as to engender this much discussion has more than done her job. Whether you like Poppy or dislike her isn't really the point. it's how real and fully imagined she is that matters. On that count, I'm not sure how anyone could find "Happy Go Lucky" wanting.