The Little Death, the directorial debut of Australian actor Josh Lawson, is a kinky comedy that takes a concept specific by nature (sexual fetishes) and plays it as broadly as possible.
Comprising a handful of separate plot lines connected only by theme and a loose sense of setting – couples on the same street indulging in various erotic fantasies – the film is relatively experimental in its structure but conditioned like a sitcom. The characters are all middle class, the comedy routines have obvious points of inflexion, there is never very long between set-up and pay-off, and interpersonal relationships feel cutesy despite the salacious subject matter.
The Little Death begins with pillow talk between long-term partners Maeve (Bojana Novakovic) and Paul (Lawson). The former tells the latter she fantasises about being raped. He mishears this as “rated” and promptly awards her five stars, setting the wheels in motion for a film about awkward erotic ideas, misunderstandings and miscommunication.
Dan (Damon Herriman) and Evie (Kate Mulvany) consult a therapist who suggests they spice up their love life by trying role-play. Dan takes to it with the zeal of a hairy drama student performing Shakespeare for the first time, sex becoming a distant second priority to performance.
Despondent desk jockey Phil (Alan Dukes), married to nagging wife Maureen (Lisa McCune), discovers he is turned on by sleep and starts drugging her. Meanwhile, a man new to the neighbourhood (Kim Gyngell) periodically arrives at front doors offering two kinds of political incorrectness: baked treats in the shape of golliwogs and the confession that he is a convicted sex offender.
Lawson’s likeable cast generate a number of laughs but The Little Death never quite finds its groove. Working within a skit-like structure that often feels like one decent gag overstretched, Lawson’s direction gets stuck between delivering something unconventional and providing audiences with a fast situational style of humour reminiscent of American film and TV.
The first-time filmmaker revealed something of his approach in a recent interview with the Brisbane Times in which he appeared keen to differentiate his film from locally produced flops by criticising the industry at large. “If you are an Australian who doesn’t like Australian films, this is the film you should watch, because neither do I,” the 33-year-old said. “Most Australian films probably bang the ‘Aussie’ drum too hard and make it not only less relatable to the rest of the world, but ironically not even relatable to Australians.”
The Little Death is several things, but Red Dog it’s not. Nor is it a multiplex-ready middle-of-the-road movie likely to draw large crowds or achieve broad crossover appeal. At times, Lawson’s debut feels like a quasi art-house film (its chapters broken up by esoteric words describing various fetishes) disguised as a mainstream knee-slapper – or vice versa.
Popularity is not an indication of quality, of course, though Lawsons’ comments on the Australian film industry suggest they go hand-in-hand. His direction pitches to the back rows but his script and structure playfully integrates characters and situations into its overarching theme. And despite the broad concept and performances, the film works best when it nails individual moments.
The most deliciously entertaining concerns a wife who starts to climax when she realises tears turn her on. This leads to a series of situations in which she sadistically tries to make her (very nice) husband cry, from arranging photos of his dead father to kidnapping his dog. It’s a good gag intelligently (if obviously) escalated.
The final segment, involving a hearing-impaired video translator who makes a sex call for a deaf client, is another highlight. There’s sweetness within the smut and that’s not an easy achievement, especially when the director almost kills his own climax (so to speak) with a very cheesy song. The Little Death clearly demonstrates behind-the-camera talent, but like the proverbial young man in bed for the first time, Lawson doesn’t seem to know exactly what to do with it.
