Little Children

I first heard of Todd Field when I saw In the Bedroom, which I found to be quiet, subtle, yet tense, explosive, and stunning. So with this backdrop, I was suitably intrigued when I learned of his next film, Little Children—though I wasn't quite sure what kind of film to expect: a dark comedy, or a serious drama. The trailer made it look like the latter, whereas many reviews I'd read indicated the former. After watching Little Children, I'd have to choose the latter, a serious drama, along with an examination of what it really means to be happy with one's life, of the choices we make when it comes to surface appearances vs. underlying happiness.

The always-excellent Kate Winslet stars as Sarah Pierce, who's stuck in a major rut because she isn't happy with how her life turned out: she's married, has a young daughter, and lives in a huge house. No, that's not a joke—she has all those things, but isn't happy because they aren't what she wants. Her marriage is distant, because her husband works long hours and has a secret porn obsession. The house, as explained in the voiceover narration, was a hand-me-down. And Sarah, by her own choice, stays at home to care for her young daughter Lucy, who ends up annoying her more than bringing her joy. And on most mornings, she takes Lucy to the park, where the two interact with other mothers and children—though these other mothers come across as very catty and gossipy, and spend way too much time checking out stay-at-home dad Brad (Patrick Wilson), whom they've labelled "The Prom King." On a dare, Sarah starts to interact with Brad—and just to drive the other mothers crazy, she kisses him . . . which actually ends up leading to a more sustained (and intimate) association between the two.

Brad, it should also be noted, isn't that happy with his life, either. His wife (Jennifer Connelly, in what felt like an underdeveloped role) is a documentary filmmaker, and insists on having their young son sleep in the same bed with them each night. She also pushes Brad to take the Bar Exam, but instead of studying at the library, he spends his evenings longingly watching young teens do skateboard stunts at a local school. On one of these nights, he runs into an old friend of his, Larry (Noah Emmerich), a former cop who's taken it upon himself to spread awareness of a neighborhood danger: Ronnie McGorvey (Jackie Earle Haley), a convicted sex offender, has just been released from prison and is now living in their neighborhood. So Larry believes that the neighborhood must band together to drive him and his mother out, for the sake of their children's safety.

Ronnie McGorvey is actually the focal point of the story, though largely as a background figure. In fact, he doesn't even make his entrance until 45 minutes into the film—in a scene that left me utterly speechless. It was during one of Sarah and Brad's outings to the local pool, and who should come to the pool but "him" (how everyone continually refers to McGorvey). He casually walks up to the pool—to the shallow end, no less, where all the kids are playing—puts on some flippers, goggles, and a snorkel, and starts swimming around the shallow end, among the kiddies. Slowly but surely, all the adults start to recognize him, and frantically call their children to get out of the pool. The aerial shot of McGorvey standing alone in the pool, with everyone else amassed along the water's edge, is rather unsettling. (I mean, talk about "the cheese stands alone!") Yet he's almost made sympathetic when he exits the pool, turns around, and shouts to the crowd, "I was only trying to cool off!"

It was his character, too, that was really the most complex, and the most in need of resolution. McGorvey's a man who knows that he's got a problem (as he admits to his mother) but doesn't know how to control it. Nor does he know how to integrate back into society without his past hanging over his head. His date with Sheila really caught me by surprise, too. I went into it partially wondering if he'd get a chance to start over, to start redeeming himself—or if somehow, someone would recognize him and scream bloody murder. But how it ended left me totally shocked . . . and wondering just how this person is going to overcome his demons. Without giving away too many details, when Ronnie's date with Sheila ends, he unexpectedly yet irrevocably removes any hopes that you as the viewer would have for his redemption.

I really have to admit, I was quite stunned by the performance of Jackie Earle Haley! His rendition of Ronnie McGorvey is so subtle that it's almost unnoticed, despite his being a central character. He actually has very few speaking lines, but all the emotions that he feels, all the isolation that's thrust upon him, are conveyed so strongly through his mannerisms, through his facial expressions. He's a man who's struggling desperately to hold himself back, to keep control of his inner demons so that he can be accepted as a person—and thus remove the sex offender stigma that he's been branded with. And his breakdown after his mother dies is surprisingly heartbreaking, and I cannot commend Mr. Haley more for offering up a stunningly effective, almost silent performance that still manages to tell all. His Oscar nomination was genuinely earned—and dare I say, the frontrunner of all the other nominees from this past Oscar season (though I still have yet to see the winner, Alan Arkin, in Little Miss Sunshine).

Speaking of Oscars, I'm really surprised that this wasn't offered up for Best Picture or Best Director! I'm undecided if Patrick Wilson should have received a Best Actor nod, but I do think Phyllis Sommerville deserved a Supporting Actress nomination as May McGorvey, the only person left in the world who genuinely cared for Ronnie. Kate Winslet was pretty impressive, and I have to admit, I'm growing more and more impressed with her as an actress! Though I really don't think this was her best role ever. And I must admit, I wasn't prepared for the voiceover narration. I mean, it was helpful to guide the story along (especially in knowing the innermost thoughts of every character), but I honestly wasn't expecting it, because you so rarely find it in modern movies. But Little Children is a film about people, and a film about people needs to have good actors to effectively pull it off. And Sarah's examination of "Madame Bovary" with the book club women summed up the point of her life perfectly: that she was going against the grain, effectively rebelling against what is commonly accepted for a woman her age, in order to find happiness and fulfillment. And she finds confidence and self-assurance with that.

Quite frankly, I thought Little Children was more powerful than In the Bedroom. From the disheveled look of Sarah early on to the rebellious joy of Brad when scoring a late-night touchdown, Todd Field created a masterpiece. This film just left me breathless—especially in the end, when everything turned out . . . well, let's just say that I wasn't expecting things to turn out the way they did, despite everyone finding a sort of redemption and peace. But that's the mystery about life: that somehow it happens in ways we don't plan, and that sometimes our perceptions are undercut by reality. 9 out of 10.