Happy-Go-Lucky
Poppy (Sally Hawkins) is, as the title of the film suggests, Happy-Go-Lucky. She’s a bright soul, with an unfailingly sunny disposition who, each day, dons gaudy attire and a toothy grin before charging out into the world. We first see her cycling around, paying more attention to smiling at people, than concentrating on the traffic. In some respects, that’s Poppy in a nutshell. Possibly more concerned with spreading the cheer, than watching out for her safety. But is that a bad thing?
When her bike – “old lovely” – is stolen, her main lament is that she didn’t get to say good-bye. A bout of back pain makes her giggle more than grimace, and she’s constantly verbally nudging the grumps around her to lighten up and enjoy their lives.
But for the more complicated, troubled souls around her, Poppy’s cheery demeanour is downright irritating, and they project their anxieties onto her, sometimes aggressively. The difficult people she encounters on a day-to-day basis are customary challenges for Poppy, who wants to change the world one person at a time. That includes her surly and anally retentive driving instructor (she has to learn to drive after losing her bike) and, in one scene, a hobo with whom there is a poignant, though not convincingly realistic, scene.
It is tempting to get carried away by Poppy’s open-heartedness, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But there are times when she tempts fate in a most foolish manner – for instance, by being so determined to buck up the sprits of her driving instructor, she overlooks the issues that are troubling him, and may well endanger her.
For fans of Mike Leigh’s social commentary, there is a strong - and cogent – message, that if we seek to truly understand each other, we will attain greater social harmony and inner peace. It’s evident, too, that we really ought to see the people behind the labels we haphazardly tend to slap on them.
One of the storylines involves a school bully and his victim. Leigh focuses on the bully, as Poppy sets about involving the school principal and a social worker in the boy’s case, and getting to the root of his problems, in order to rectify his behaviour. Leigh makes a persuasive case for the remedial vs. punitive approach to dealing with aberrant behaviour, especially when it involves children: if we can address the underlying problems that result in antisocial behaviour, we may prevent people falling through society’s increasingly gaping cracks, and, as a society, be all the better for it.
For some, Poppy will be irresistibly likeable, in her own lanky, goofy and charming way. Ultimately, she’s an entertaining rather than interesting character, and if it weren’t for the comical moments provided by the rest of the ensemble, there’s a chance that her relentless optimism would be impossible to bear. However, her slightly anarchic spirit is most appealing.
Poppy may resemble a witless Pollyanna at first, but during the course of the film she gradually realises that there are limitations to her ability to change the world. Leigh suggests that it doesn’t mean that she needs to become someone else entirely.
So is she, at the end of the film, as naïve as she was at the beginning, when we first see her cycling through London?