A look at the list of nominees for the 79th Annual Academy Awards reveals that, despite what many consider to be a strong year, some tried and true conventions remain. After sweeping critic awards, SAGs and BAFTAs alike, a few "dead locks" have emerged; see Helen Mirren for "The Queen" and Forest Whitaker for "The Last King of Scotland." A few key Oscar blockbusters have racked up more than their fair share of nominations; see "The Departed" and "Dreamgirls" (yes, despite the Best Picture snub). Some films seem to merely pepper the list of nominees with a brilliant performance here and there, perhaps belying an otherwise mediocre film; see "Little Children."
Todd Field's adaptation of Tom Perotta's celebrated bestselling novel is an attractive film about frustrated housewives, insecure househusbands and recovering perverts that proves to be unfulfilling. Despite a handful of delicious performances, this melodramatic suburban confection tastes good but offers little real substance.
Like something out of "Desperate Housewives," "Little Children" is unsettlingly narrated throughout by an omniscient male -- not unlike a baritone Mary Alice Young. Sarah Pierce (Kate Winslet) is the stereotypical housewife, complete with a distant husband and annoying, perfection-obsessed fellow soccer moms. Sarah laments the loss of her former intellectual self and questions the dull life she now leads. While at the park with her daughter, Sarah is introduced to the "prom king" -- Brad Adamson (Patrick Wilson), the tan and toned stay-at-home dad aptly nicknamed by the three repressed housewives chatting on the bench next to her. Brad, as we later discover, stays home with his son while studying for the bar exam, which he has twice failed. Feeling the pressure from his driven documentarian wife Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), Brad is insecure about his unemployment, but somehow remains entirely unmotivated.
Beginning with an unintentional kiss meant to settle a bet with the catty soccer moms, Sarah and Brad embark on a torrid affair behind closed doors that was essentially anticipated from the opening credits onward. The affair takes place in the midst of, but is seemingly unrelated to, Ronnie McGorvey's arrival at his mother's house. Returning from a stint in jail for indecent exposure to children, Ronnie (Jackie Earle Haley) quickly becomes the scapegoat of Sarah and Brad's quiet Massachusetts suburb. He attempts to reform himself more to appease his mother than for his own good.
Ronnie is tenuously connected to the deviant protagonists through Larry Hedges (Noah Emmerich), a former cop who plays night football with Brad and sets out to harass Ronnie. Alternating between graphic sex scenes, serious bits of Sarah's and Brad's inner conflicts, troubling exchanges between Ronnie and his overbearing mother and inexcusably campy football games, "Little Children" unevenly tracks the intense development of these relationships and the crash course they are on. Eventually reaching a dramatic climax that seeks to demonstrate the far-reaching effects of one illicit affair, "Little Children" proves oddly unsatisfying by the time the final credits roll.
Despite its flaws, "Little Children" does possess some noteworthy features. Going beyond the cliched frustration of repressed suburban life, Kate Winslet brings a nagging and unapologetically selfish drive to Sarah that is difficult to like but which proves to be undeniably realistic, even authentic. Not quite dowdy, she is refreshingly average -- "not even that pretty," according to the narrator -- and the invigoration she absorbs from the affair is almost tangible. With a deep, resolute voice (founded upon a fantastic, matter-of-fact American accent from the native Brit), Winslet takes control of Sarah as the latter seizes control of both her affair and her life.
It's Jackie Earle Haley, however, who steals the show, turning a creepy supporting character into the emotional focus of the film's dramatic climax. Ronnie appears almost unrepentant for his indecent deeds, bluntly accepting his lewd desires as an unfortunate biological fact. Nevertheless, he longs to be accepted by society and be a "good boy" for his "mommy," as he creepily refers to his mother. Haley presents a manic, conflicted character that the audience is naturally repulsed by yet mysteriously intrigued with. The ironic, absolute, and unbelievable ends to which Ronnie tries to be a "good boy" are truly jaw-dropping.
Antonio Calvache's cinematography is pleasing and varied, if basic, presenting a sunny and idyllic chunk of anonymous suburbia. At times, the film feels like a moving J. Crew ad, Patrick Wilson and Jennifer Connelly notwithstanding. "Little Children" -- all 130 minutes of it -- actually moves along nicely, thanks to an intriguing set of soft piano melodies that permeate the background, complementing all the pretty people and pretty places.
Unfortunately these high points cannot save Field's film from its uneven mix of characters and haphazard concoction of dry humor, satire, melodrama and Oscar-worthy performances. It might have helped if Field had settled on a single tone and substantial meaning -- with his use of interminable narration, one would think that not terribly difficult. Thus, it is quite appropriate that "Little Children" only sprinkles this year's list of Academy Award nominees; while certain elements are crafted quite well and deserve the recognition, the complete package simply does not deliver.