by Cain Noble-Davies
Worth: $9.50
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Emily Beecham, Ben Whishaw, Kerry Fox, Kit Connor, David Wilmot
Intro:
… a disappointing little bud of a dud that never reaches full bloom.
The English-language debut of Austrian filmmaker Jessica Hausner plays out like an organic version of Black Mirror-style social commentary, shining a light on the modern obsession with mood alteration.
It follows botanist Alice (Emily Beecham) as she works on a new strain of flower that gives the film its name. A flower that, when cared for, induces a chemical reaction in the caretaker that makes them happier… and possibly changes more than that.
As a large chunk of the events in the film take place in a laboratory, it makes sense that it carries a very clinical mood, meant to highlight the emotional disconnect between people (parents and children especially). However, this manages to go so far in that direction as to make every frame appear soaked in antiseptic. It aims for a grounded look at humanity under the control of an outside force, but ends up being way too low-key to deliver the dread that’s inherent within that framework. When one of the induced tells Alice “There’s nothing to be afraid of”, it’s less a statement of control and more an indictment of the film at large.
As much as a conversation certainly deserves to exist about self-medicating, it ultimately turns sour when the film itself seems to be passed out on the couch from its own round of downers. With its juxtaposition of psychologically-detached characters (even before Little Joe starts to spread its influence) and man-vs.-nature hubris, it reads like Stanley Kubrick (or one of his many disciples; Yorgos Lanthimos, maybe?) did a remake of The Ruins, but without any of that same potency in connecting the people on-screen, or even the moments of casual insanity. So, it’s more like if a version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers was made by the Body Snatchers.
And yet, even with all that said, there’s still a shining jewel in this production: the sound design. Teiji Ito’s soundtrack is the only thing here that keeps a consistent vibe, using natural sounds like woodwinds, bongos, bird calls, and even the barking of dogs to create tension. It may occasionally slip into spoken-word-at-a-coffee-shop-open-mic-night territory in how it punctuates the dialogue at times, but as an example of using nature to create fear of mankind’s place within it, it passes with flying colours.
Outside of that, though, Little Joe is a disappointing little bud of a dud that never reaches full bloom. It’s certainly well-arranged and there’s a lot of potential in its roots, but the whole film feels like build-up to something that never quite happens on-screen. For a film that combines childcare and plant care to interesting ends, Jan Švankmajer’s Little Otik is a much better option.
