Sundance 2024

David Schwimmer stars in Little Death, an ambitious debut feature from director Jack Begert, who is best known for his work on music videos for artists like Kendrick Lamar, Doja Cat, Jack Harlow, and Olivia Rodrigo. Begert also co-wrote the film and takes bold swings, delivering an experience that may divide audiences. But there's something special here for those willing to ride the waves of its narrative.

David Schwimmer plays Martin, a neurotic television writer eager to transition to the big screen. However, his personal struggles—most notably his prescription drug addiction—strain his relationship with his wife, played by Jena Malone. Their dynamic crackles with palpable tension as both characters wrestle with frustrations: Martin's dream slipping through his fingers and his wife's growing disillusionment with their marriage. Malone handles her role with an understated grace, while Schwimmer brings a subtle vulnerability to Martin that reminds us of his talent beyond comedy.

As the story progresses, Martin's big chance to break into film comes with an unwanted caveat. His film's financier demands changes to his script, particularly a rework of his protagonist, sparking a wave of doubt and anxiety for Martin. Here, Little Death starts to feel reminiscent of Adaptation, especially in how it plays with the anxieties and neuroses of the creative process. Like Charlie Kaufman's film, it straddles that line between the absurd and the deeply personal, giving us a window into the fragility of its central character. For fans of Adaptation (like myself), this first half hits all the right notes—filled with self-reflection, satire, and sharp writing.

Then, in a surprising turn, the film shifts its point of view, now following two friends, played by Dominic Fike and Talia Ryder, who are on a reckless quest to score prescription drugs. Their journey quickly spirals into chaos, and while the narrative thread between Martin's story and theirs is tenuous at best, Ryder shines in this section. Her performance is the stand-out of the film. The shift in perspective and tone is jarring, and, at least on first viewing, it's difficult to reconcile the two halves. There's an underlying critique of big pharma bubbling throughout, but the connective tissue feels a bit too thin, making the transition between the two stories feel abrupt and disjointed.

That said, Little Death is a film that swings for the fences, and I kind of loved it for that. It's one of those movies that feels like it has more to unpack, and perhaps on a second or third watch, the connection between its two parts might reveal itself more fully. And the performances are all noteworthy. It's certainly not for everyone—there's a good chance some viewers will come away frustrated by its unconventional structure—but if you're into films that take risks, it's worth checking out. Just be prepared for the possibility that you might hate it.

— 4 / 5 ⭐