A note during the first scene of “The Little Things” – an effective cold opening, full of danger and suspense – indicates that it is 1990. At first, I thought that meant that the action would quickly jump to the present day, but instead of this the film, which takes place mainly in Los Angeles, establishes itself in a very generic version of the semi-recent past, occasionally going back a few years earlier.
There are not many historical details or period flourishes that justify this choice. It seems more of a pretext to remove cell phones, internet searches, GPS tracking and other modern conveniences that can ruin the analog environment needed for an old-fashioned serial killer thriller. Which is quite fair. When it comes to scary neo-noir resonance, it’s hard to beat a public phone ringing on an empty night street or an envelope full of Polaroids.
Written and directed by John Lee Hancock and starring Denzel Washington as a tired professional with keen instincts and a bruised conscience, “The Little Things” is an unapologetic setback. He meditates on the psychological and spiritually damaging effects of police work while his two main detectives (Rami Malek alongside Washington) pursue an elusive and evil killer of women. You can think of “Se7en” or “Zodiac” or a missed season of “True Detective”, although this film is less stylized than any of them.
And that is partly because “The Little Things” is a latecomer and a precursor. (Time is a flat circle, you don’t know.) Hancock wrote the script almost 30 years ago, and in the 90’s possible directors included Steven Spielberg and Clint Eastwood. Hancock wrote the scripts for two Eastwood films in that decade, “A Perfect World” and “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil”. Most recently, he directed “The Blind Side”, “Saving Mr. Banks” and “The Highwaymen”.
At best, these films are competent rather than innovative – admirable in their strong commitment to the art of filmmaking, even with their stories stubbornly attached to conventions. This rises to a slightly higher level, although it does not entirely avoid the clichés of the genre: “You know, you and I have a lot in common,” says a suspect to one of the detectives. The fact that the apparent villain is played by Jared Leto does not necessarily help.
But Leto, as a “crime fan”, I confess with a frighteningly calm demeanor, is not bad. Malek as Jim Baxter, a zealous and ambitious Los Angeles detective flirting with a career and a personal catastrophe, is also very good. Who are we kidding? This film is a coat that has been hanging in the closet for decades, waiting for Washington to wear it.
Not that the man’s real clothes would do. This is part of the performance texture. Joe Deacon, often called Deke, begins the film as a sheriff’s deputy on a dusty stretch of California’s Central Valley. The khaki uniform doesn’t do him any good, and Deke behaves like a man bent over a long-laden burden – rounded shoulders, thick in the middle, slow, heavy steps.
You have a feeling it wasn’t always like this. You get that feeling in part because you’ve seen Denzel Washington in that role before, but the big ones can represent infinite variations on the same theme. When Deke drives to Los Angeles to deal with some irrelevant police matter, we discover that he was once a big shot in the homicide police. He receives a mixed reception. The captain (Terry Kinney) can barely look at him. Deke’s former partner (Chris Bauer) and the coroner (Michael Hyatt) greet him warmly, but his kindness is marked by pity and disappointment.
Deke teams up with Baxter to hunt down a killer who is hunting young women, who may have been active when Deke was in the police. (The policeman who appears to be Jim’s real partner, played by Natalie Morales, doesn’t have much to do.) The case takes some expected turns, and some less, but as the clues and clues pile up, the film’s interest is less on whoever did it than on what it does to detectives. There is something of Eastwoodian not only in Hancock’s clean and unassuming direction, but also in the ethical universe he outlines. The line between good and evil is clear, but this does not eliminate moral ambiguity or save the just from guilt. Nor does it guarantee justice.
It is a heavy idea, and “The Little Things” does not gain its weight. Thanks to Hancock’s skill and the discipline of the actors, it is more than assistable, but you are unlikely to be haunted, disturbed or even surprised. You haven’t seen exactly that before. It seems so.
The little things
Classified R. Tortured souls and tortured bodies. Operating time: 2 hours 7 minutes. In theaters and HBO Max. Consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies in theaters.