Review: ‘Giant Little Ones’ explores teen sexual politics

By Katie Walsh

March 7, 2019 11:21 AM PT

Two pops, a fizz, and a shower of hot pink sparks light up the sky; this DIY flare gun firework commemorates a relationship at its apex, before it all comes crashing down — the friendship between Franky (Josh Wiggins) and Ballas (Darren Mann), inseparable best friends bonded through history, proximity and high school sports. In Keith Behrman’s complex exploration of the sexual politics of teenagers, “Giant Little Ones,” Franky and Ballas burn brightly for a moment, but what goes up must come down.

A fumbled bedsheet, a breath caught, a hasty escape. So much of what drives the action forward in “Giant Little Ones” happens furtively, under the cover of night, or isn’t on screen. But the characters have to deal with the explosive ramifications of this brief, heady connection. This quick dalliance is just a secret between friends, but soon, Ballas weaponizes it against Franky, wielding a nuclear warhead of homophobia and social conditioning that blows up Franky’s world, bloodies his face, and bruises his soul.

The deeply earnest Wiggins plays Franky like an open wound, a young man who has rejected his father, Ray (Kyle MacLachlan), because of Ray’s own same-sex relationship. He reaches out to old friends not scooped up into the net of high school popularity, and relies on these peers who have experienced their own sexual trauma in order to grapple with his own, though the advice they mete out is immature at best, and Franky is entirely unsure of himself and what he wants. The only person in the movie who offers a true voice of reason is Ray, on the other side of questioning himself, who urges Franky to see that nothing’s ever really a “mistake,” if you’re being yourself.

Behrman has crafted a classic high school tale of outsiders finding themselves while looking in, bullied and beaten for daring to “experiment,” to be different. The images are sumptuously saturated and gorgeously crafted, and the soundtrack thrums and whines with anxiety and racing pulse. Behrman deploys well-known symbology and story beats of the teen myth, but he glosses over crucial information in this morally and emotionally complex tale, too confident in assuming that we can infer the necessary context.

How does the secret get out? It’s explained late, but confounds the audience. What causes Ballas to turn on Franky so violently? While Franky’s emotional journey is carefully charted, the inner turmoil of his former best friend turned tormentor remains an unfortunate mystery, a piece of information that would have rounded out this story.

The careful parceling out of information places us deeply within the subjective experience of Franky, who is confused, lost, and yearning for answers and affection within this abyss that becomes a defining moment of his life. If two pops commemorated two friends together, a single flare, shot at the end of the film, streaking neon pink light through the sky signals the lesson that he ultimately learns. Be your own firework.

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