Matthew Percefull
The trailer for Todd Field’s second feature film, Little Children, is haunting in its simplicity. It’s mysterious in terms of what the film contains, but it’s very upfront about how it will make you feel: disoriented. It’s an expertly edited trailer with sparse sound design. All you hear is a Train chugging along while bits of dialogue are sprinkled throughout. These pieces of dialogue seem innocuous at first, but as the train sounds get louder and louder, it’s obvious that there’s a scandal here.
This trailer is the embodiment of what Little Children does to its viewers. It telegraphs that you’re about to be wrecked emotionally, that the metaphorical train is headed right towards you. You don’t move out of the way, though. It forces you to stare the train down, hoping for a better outcome right until the moment it finally strikes contact with you. Right when it’s too late.
Based on Tom Perrotta’s 2003 novel of the same name, Little Children is equally sardonic and empathetic in its view of the suburbs and the broken people who inhabit them. Todd Field expertly crafts a melancholic tale that remains hopelessly romantic despite its often-bleak subject matter.
Little Children centers Sarah (Kate Winslet) and Brad (Patrick Wilson), two unhappy parents who are having an affair with each other. Sarah has cornered herself in a life she hates. Her husband is a breadwinner but offers no support emotionally, forcing her to work harder as a parent while he indulges in early internet age adult websites. She chased the dream that society fed her. Get married, buy a house, and have a kid then all of your troubles will go away. Sarah has lost her once strong sense of She’s constantly around other people, yet she’s isolated. Her daughter is described as an ‘unknowable stranger’. She’s locked herself into a pastel-colored prison until she meets Brad.
Brad is in a bit of a different boat. He isn’t in a one-sided partnership like Sarah is, quite the opposite, actually. His wife, Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), is a successful documentarian and, by all accounts, an amazing mother. Brad is intimidated and emasculated by his wife’s status in the world and, more importantly, in their relationship. He’s a failed lawyer who is banished to a life of toy trains and jester hats while she gets to live in the adult world. Brad isn’t used to this life. He was a varsity quarterback in high school who was also smart enough to get into any school he wanted. He’s used to being a superstar, a ‘prom king’ as the mothers on the playground coined. But here, he was just a clown who entertained the young child until the real parent came home.
Brad and Sarah are the little children that the title refers to. The entire town is. Every decision they make comes from a childish impulse. This entire affair started because Sarah wanted to spite the other moms on the playground. The deeper the affair goes, the more they revert into adolescent frames of mind. Brad joins a local football team, seeking a return to his glory days of high school football. Sarah highlights romantic and provocative chapters in books, much like a teenager with a crush.
It’s unclear how much Sarah and Brad seem to really care for each other. They’re enamored with each other for sure. There’s never really a true vulnerable moment between the two. They act as each other’s escape from the real world. An excuse to live freely again, without all of society’s pressures constantly gnawing at them. Brad just wants a cheerleader, and Sarah is more than willing to fulfill this fantasy for him. Anything to feel desirable again. Their emotional connection is on the level of a high school crush. It was only a matter of time before it blew up in their faces.
Little Children isn’t just interested in the affair; it’s interested in how the town reacts as well. Sarah and Brad’s entanglement has awakened a sense of evil that was resting in this picture-perfect neighborhood all along. This evil is personified in the character of Ronnie (Jackie Earle Hailey), a convicted predator who is returning to town after a stint in jail. His presence is a looming threat throughout this film. There’s a scene of him in a public swimming pool that mimics the shark POV shots in Jaws.
The pool scene in particular is quite interesting. Once Ronnie is noticed in the pool, chaos ensues. Every parent screams for their child to leave the pool. Eventually, every single person there is outside of the pool staring at Ronnie until the police come. Brad, Sarah, and the rest of the parents gawk at the incident. As soon as Ronnie’s dealt with, the day resumes normal. Kids are splashing in the pool, and the card games are back up again. Like nothing ever happened. Little Children exposes the immature way adults often handle conflict.
Ronnie is such a complex character. His mother is incredibly sympathetic and doesn’t want to admit that her son may have a problem. She thinks that all he needs is a girl his age. She, much like society at large, wants to burden women with healing the evils of man. The evil that society is complicit in creating. Even Ronnie himself knows that he’s wrong. He knows that he’s a ticking time bomb full of trauma. Unfortunately, he’s proven right after exposing himself to a girl on a first date. Little Children isn’t afraid of the depths of humanity and Ronnie’s story is proof of that.
Larry (Noah Emmerich) is on the frontlines of community members against Ronnie’s return. Keeping a sexual predator out of your neighborhood is obviously a righteous cause. The way Larry goes about it is borderline obsessive. He’s compensating for a dark past. Ronnie is himself, and he needs to punish himself. His spiritual redemption towards the end is bittersweet. He defies his past and saves the life of a man he once ordered to be castrated. At the same time though, he is enabling a dangerous predator to continue his reign of terror. These uncomfortable moral dilemmas are what make Little Children such a special film.
Little Children is steeped in the early 2000s culturally. It captures the feeling of dissatisfaction and depression that was starting to bubble above the surface around this time. Suburban malaise is a phenomenon that’s as old as the suburbs themselves. This unnatural living situation is a breeding ground for loneliness. The timely aesthetic that Little Children employs is perfect for visualizing this concept. The internet creeping its way into everyday life, but it’s still archaic. The focus on having a perfect family and perfect children. It perfectly encapsulates some of the anxieties of that time.
Field’s direction here is so controlled and confident. He makes the most mundane setting, a town swimming pool or a recreational football game, feel like big set pieces. His camera longs as much as the characters do. Every placement is precise and has meaning. This film is a hypnotic experience that only this director can craft.
Patrick Wilson and Kate Winslet are just terrific in Little Children. Winslet is magnetic and carries so much empathy on her face. It’s impossible not to root for her in some capacity despite some questionable decisions her character makes. Her performance transforms the character in my eyes. When I read the novel, I wasn’t very endeared to Sarah, but Winslet makes her story even more tragic. Wilson is able to bounce off of her perfectly. Brad is a sad character and Wilson steps into that with no reservations. He looks uncomfortable in every frame. Wilson isn’t afraid to look pathetic if that’s what the character needs.
Jackie Earle Haley as Ronnie is a career defining role. It’s an incredibly brave character to tackle. You have to portray an absolute monster but also make the audience somewhat sympathetic for you. He’s probably most known for his cartoonishly unhinged characters like Rorschach or the remake Freddy Kreuger, but his turn as Ronnie in Little Children shows how much range he really has. A subplot like this is so hard to pull off. It requires careful consideration from everyone involved but especially the actor. Jackie Earle Haley knocks it out of the park.
Little Children is about children in adult costumes. They follow the motions of adults but none of them have ever grown up. As far as understanding the world, they know about as much as their kids do. They’re just as lost, but the kicker is they have to pretend that they know everything the whole time. Todd Field puts a microscope up to so called grownups and examines the immaturities that we allow within ourselves, so long as we’re still performing for capitalism. It’s an honest look at suburbia that still hits hard today.
