Directed by Jessica Hausner
Written by Géraldine Bajard and Jessica Hausner
Starring Emily Beecham, Ben Whishaw, Kerry Fox and Kit Connor
Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes

by Audrey Callerstrom

“Who can prove the genuineness of feelings? Moreover, who cares?”

Alice (Emily Beecham) is a plant breeder who has developed a bright red flower with pollen that emits oxytocin. The line above is spoken by a colleague of hers as they discuss the perceived effects of the plant on people’s mood. The plant needs to be loved, talked to, cared for and, in theory, it will love you back – after all, it’s a living thing. Alice’s measures to create such a plant, which ends up being named Little Joe, after her son, Joe (Kit Connor) are unorthodox and possibly illegal. But Little Joe needs to be ready in time for the Flower Fair, even though those exposed to Little Joe start to behave in a peculiar manner, starting first with Bello the dog and companion of fellow scientist Bella (Kerry Fox). Bello attacks his owner and, in response, Bella has Bello put to sleep. “That’s not my dog,” she says. Others report that Little Joe makes them feel happy, but evidence suggests otherwise. 

It is an interesting premise for a film and, although it doesn’t fall to certain tropes, it only skims the surface of some of the themes that it tries to explore. For example, after Alice brings Little Joe home, Joe, who previously had a cheerful disposition and liked sharing takeout with his hard-working mother, turns sullen, monotone and starts to indicate preference for his father. But, he states that he feels “happy.” So, is Little Joe a metaphor for what depression looks like to others? An internal feeling of numbness, but an external disposition that everything is fine? The team of scientists only care about Little Joe’s effects as an allergen, but test subjects show other reactions. Alice watches videos from the allergen tests which other scientists dismiss as “a bunch of rambling” – one man remarks that his wife is not herself, and in another, a teen girl expresses feelings of depersonalization. This scene feels real and personal; too often we think of depression as someone crying into their palms when, in reality, it’s an apathy toward the feeling of being alive. So why, then, does Little Joe affect Bella, who has a history of mental illness, differently than others? It’s not clear.

This is a film that has all the elements to elevate it to something higher, something more poignant, more stirring. Beecham is serious and stoic; we see love for her son, but we also see an undercurrent of ambivalence toward motherhood, much like Tilda Swinton in We Need to Talk About Kevin. But is this something Alice genuinely feels, or is her therapist (Lindsay Duncan, the best part of Birdman) placing these ideas in her head? Kit Connor delivers a terrific performance as Joe, going from loving and enthusiastic to monotone and eerie. He starts to speak factually and without emotion as though he’s always reading a technical manual. As someone who looks forward at the end of each day to seeing my daughter, seeing Joe pretend not to see his mother across the playground particularly stings. Whishaw’s character, Chris, is underwritten, which is unfortunate given the life that Whishaw historically brings to supporting roles. The music is in the film includes drums and pan flutes and audio which sounds like dogs barking backwards. The score is sharp, if a bit aggressive during certain scenes. As Little Joe blooms, it unearths beauty but it sounds like an eggshell cracking. Colors and lighting are on opposite ends of the spectrum; the lab scenes are bright and white, while Alice’s home is dark, green and full of shadows. There are recurring scenes where two individuals are talking and the camera slowly zooms between them, inching them out of the frame until only the sounds of their voices are left. It’s subtle and effective, causing the viewer to lose the grasp on their connection to the characters, which is apt as exposure to Little Joe seems to warp people’s personalities. Everyone in the film, once affected by Little Joe, only serves to protect him and ensure his survival. Little Joe is a film that’s plays like an understated, indie Invasion of the Body Snatchers with strong and careful performances from Beecham and Connor, but ultimately, it’s this very tone that keeps the stakes low and the suspense muted. 

In select theaters Friday