The perils of suburban mileu - Film makes case that some adults are just like little children

By Frank Visco
Collegian Editor
October 18, 2006

Although a small independent film, Little Children has a long trail of pre-release Oscar buzz. With acclaimed director Todd Haynes behind the camera and the perennially award-worthy Kate Winslet in front of it, the film was always destined to draw attention. Out in Philadelphia this Friday, the film delivers on much of the hype, but it is with caution that I espouse it as a film to be reckoned with come awards season.

On the plus side, the film presents an intriguing slice of angst-ridden suburbia – bored housewives, porn-addicted husbands, disempowered stay-at-home fathers – and throws in the hot button issue of pedophilia. Haynes balances these things nicely and is aided by a slew of great performances; however, at the same time, the film meanders and winds up with an inconsistent tone.

The film focuses on two neglected spouses, Brad Adamson (Patrick Wilson) and Sarah Pierce (Winslet), who form a friendship during play dates with their children. They eventually give in to temptation and become lovers, but each seems to have conflicting motivations and feelings about their relationship. They dream of being together, although neither realizes the impracticality of this and that they might seem perfect for each other because they are both living in a bubble closed off from the outside world.

The cast also features several other main characters, including Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), Brad’s domineering wife; Ronnie McGorvey (Jackie Earle Haley), a convicted pedophile; May McGorvey (Phyllis Somerville), Ronnie’s accepting mother; and Larry Hedges (Noah Emmerich), an ex-cop turned crazed vigilante.

Top to bottom, the cast is excellent. Winslet gives the type of commanding performance audiences have come to expect from her. A former feminist who now plays wife to a porn-addicted jerk, her Sarah is the most three-dimensional female on screen this year, and it won’t be surprising if she garners another Oscar nomination. She’s never been better.

Haley, a former child star who, with this film and All the King’s Men, seems to be experiencing a career comeback after over 10 years out of the business, shows no sign of rust, as he is a revelation in the tragic role of Ronnie. A lesser actor may have over-played the role, specifically two or three extremely disturbing scenes, but Haley does a good job of finding the humanity in the monster. Debates have already begun over his award-worthiness, with the big question being if his role is too squeamish for the Academy.

Wilson and Emmerich both turn in great performances, with Wilson proving he can captivate after years of middling performances (The Alamo, The Phantom of the Opera), and Emmerich adding a new dimension to his character-actor oeuvre. Lastly, it’s possible that Somerville could also become a dark-horse Oscar candidate with her heartbreaking portrayal.

Interestingly, the film shows the actual children as being quite mature, while showing each of the adults to be, in essence, like little children. Some nice things are done with this concept thematically, and the film is shot beautifully.

At the same time, the film is imperfect. Despite an interesting theme and great performances, the film nearly falls apart in its final third. It meanders with very little focus, and is wrapped up a bit too neatly through some very odd scene choices. The big scene at the end is still powerful, but you’ll find yourself asking “How did so-and-so get there?” and “Why is that other guy hanging around with skater kids at such a crucial time?”

The reason for this seems to be that the film is based on a book. The book was written by Tom Perrotta, whose Election was also made into an acclaimed feature film several years ago; but as many books tend to do, it meanders. However, while books have the freedom to do this, movies do not, and so don’t be surprised if you find yourself fidgeting in your seat for much of the last third. Furthermore, the narration sets an initial ironic tone that eventually disappears along with the narration itself. Such tonal switches may be OK in the literary world, but in a movie they are just disconcerting.

Nevertheless, the movie gets back on course in the final 20 minutes to hammer home its core message. It’s the type of film people leave the theater talking about, and so it’s easy to look past its flaws. It’s not the homerun Haynes had with In the Bedroom, but it is easily a stand up triple.

viscof1@lasalle.edu