Review: The Little Things

It's the 1990s and a serial killer is on the loose. That sounds about right; the 1990s were a high point for serial killers in pop culture - Seven was a hit in 1995 - and though this script was first written in 1997 it makes sense to keep the action set back then. Serial killers aren't exactly a relic of the past, but we've got better things to worry about in 2021.

It also helps that we haven't seen a lot of serial killer movies lately (unless you're spending your time deep down the trashier end of the streaming services), because most of what The Little Things has to offer initially seems as stale as the contents of the first victim's fridge. 

A woman's been killed, and it looks like the latest crime from a repeat offender. Hotshot LA detective Jim Baxter (Rami Malek) is on the case, and mysteriously unpopular country deputy sheriff Joe Deacon (Denzel Washington) just happens to be hanging around his former workplace. Why sure, he'll take a look at the case if Jim asks nicely.

So far so buddy cop, though already there are a few questions. Why does (almost) everyone at his old job seem to hate Deacon? Why is Baxter so keen (well, slightly keen) to have him check out the case? And why is Deacon sticking around when he should be heading home - oh wait, it's because this case looks an awful lot like the unsolved string of murders that led to him having a heart attack and getting a divorce and leaving the force for a quiet job in the country.

Writer / director John Lee Hancock (The Blind Side, The Founder) keeps the writing and visuals workmanlike, which means for a while this gets by almost entirely thanks to the presence of Washington and Malek. They're both legit movie stars with charisma to burn (news flash) and while neither is being particularly challenged here they're both skillful actors who can do a lot with a little. 

And a little is what you get here; even the murder details are fairly tame, and while a creepy opening sequence goes some way towards establishing the killer's menace, our cops are clearly not up against any kind of murder mastermind.

So it makes sense that Albert Sparma (Jared Leto) turns out to be their prime suspect, because the thing that makes him their prime suspect is that he wanders around acting like a serial killer. But is he really a killer or just a wannabe who's being played by an actor hamming it up like crazy and sticking his gut out like he's pretending to be pregnant? Looks like they're going to have to go outside the law to get the proof they know is just out of reach.

If it's not already obvious, once you look past the performances much of this solidly competent film is fairly by-the-numbers, and how much you enjoy it is going to rely more than usual on whether you think it sticks the ending. The good news is, it's an ending that goes some way towards elevating what's come before - it even, in a somewhat blunt way, goes some way towards explaining why you'd make such a pro-cop movie (they're lone heroes taking down an evil that society is powerless against!) in 2021. 

It won't keep you up at night - it probably won't keep you thinking once you get home - but it does provide a decent update to what otherwise seems like a generic salute to the 1990s, when being murdered in your bed by a deranged maniac following some creepy ritualistic pattern was about as scary as it got.

 

- Anthony Morris