The procedural thriller has been a staple of cinema for decades now: frequently simple yet effective stories of law enforcement officials tenaciously uncovering the truth of long-gestating crimes.
To say the least, obsession and bleak reality often materialize around the mystery, engrossing the audience in the process; however, like any other genre, prevalent formulas begin to surround the pictures, making the movie itself thoroughly uninteresting. Therefore, it is the filmmaker’s duty to make these movies enthralling. David Fincher is an obvious example here with his 1995 film Seven, a movie brimming with atmosphere and
tension.
Director John Lee Hancock pivots from his broadly charming dramas such as The Blind Side and Saving Mr. Banks to a diametrically different genre form: the aforementioned police thriller.
Denzel Washington (Training Day, Glory), Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody), and Jared Leto (Suicide Squad) star in a film that is synopsized as the following: Two cops track down a serial killer. If this sounds rather rudimentary, that is because it is.
The Little Things is not even cookie-cutter: it’s a lump of the pastry. Hancock wrote this script in 1993, a year contained in the era in which films depicting cops seeking justice was at the zenith of its popularity, and it could not be more apparent. Being populated by stock elements that would make a chicken soup shudder, this story is generic and banal in almost every conceivable way.
Washington’s Deacon, though he is utilizing his signature movie star verve to elevate a basic character, is the disheartened older policeman haunted by his past; Malek’s Baxter, perfectly fine in his part, is playing the overly idealistic superior officer; and Leto’s Sparma, chewing every ounce of the scenery, perhaps even sporadically to a fault, is the overtly vile and sociopathic suspect.
The set of plot details that they occupy is additionally ridden with trite conventions, stoking this fire of clichés. This is literally the procedural plotline: Deacon is looking to atone for his past transgressions, Baxter receives a lesson in the morally gray areas of his profession, and Sparma exploits the flawed system to antagonize his pursuant law enforcers.
This is not necessarily a game of cat-and-mouse as it is a checklist. Hancock is determined to squeeze in every derivative aspect possible without expounding them. Deacon’s checkered past and present are filled with a failed marriage and family and a doubt in God’s existence, and Baxter has an idyllic domestic life ready to crumble at any minute. They progress
to uncover evidence in the most pedestrian fashion, simply unearthing it with no dramatic stakes whatsoever.
This is not to say that I uniformly condemn clichés: it is that this film has no
thematic dimension. This film is bereft of subtext. It is legitimately just its predecessors with mostly no depth; however, the ending does provide some food for thought, depicting a governing power that abrogates its obligations, but it also implores the audience to overlook some vitally underdeveloped attributes of the story, especially Sparma. The entire film seems to be about
deteriorating fixation and immorality, such as Seven, and though I applaud the effort, it is simply neither facetted nor focused enough.
Hancock also lends little to this film aesthetically. Unlike Fincher’s decidedly taut work, this film cannot settle on a style and tone. It oscillates from stately paced morality tale to kinetic thriller, which neither are well executed, without any rhythm. The inconsistent editing is not conducive at all: it is erratic, disorienting, and lacks pace (I have no feasible idea how Malek was able to go from a parking lot altercation with Denzel to the midst of a press conference within the span of one hall shot that also features Denzel). The cinematography, providing a cinematic sheen, and score (Thomas Newman, the supremely talented composer of 1917 and The Shawshank Redemption), contrastingly, are quite good and make the film seem more lurid, contemplative, and pensive than it actually is.
There is nothing particularly immensely offensive of this movie’s construction and strategies, but where The Little Things falters is what it remises to do. This is a thriller with no thrills, a mystery with no intrigue, and a drama with no weight. It’s brazenly disposable and vacantly entertaining for some, I suppose. Enter at your own risk.
Grade: C-
The Little Things is streaming on HBO Max through Feb. 28 and is currently in theaters.
Photo Credit / Warner Brothers
