Can the power of faith and compassion outweigh physical strength or statistical probability? That’s the fundamental question at the heart of Little Boy, an earnest coming-of-age drama so cloying and manipulative that it simply can’t be taken seriously.
With its transparent spiritual undertones, the film feels like a feature-length sermon preaching lessons of self-esteem and cultural understanding through the eyes of a hopelessly idealistic 8-year-old boy trying to reunite his family amid the military conflict of World War II.
It takes place in a seaside village where young Pepper (Jakob Salvati) is small in stature but has a big heart. Bullied by his peers, the youngster is upset because his father (Michael Rapaport) has gone off to war and apparently been taken hostage in a Japanese POW camp, leaving him alone with his grieving mother (Emily Watson) and guilt-ridden older brother (David Henrie).
Determined to prove himself and bring his father home alive, Pepper visits the local priest (Tom Wilkinson), who urges him to become virtuous and tolerant, especially toward a kindly Japanese neighbor (Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa) who has become the object of scorn by other townsfolk. As he follows a checklist of good deeds, his optimism gives the village a timely morale boost.
One could argue that the intentions behind Little Boy are genuine because its message is so wholesome and its themes so universal. Yet in order for the material to resonate emotionally, there needs to be some grounding in reality for either the characters or the story.
Instead, the sugarcoated screenplay co-written by Mexican director Alejandro Monteverde (Bella) tries to coast on the cute innocence of its diminutive protagonist, who seems to channel some of the same qualities of other sad-sack big-screen pipsqueaks ranging from Charlie Bucket to Ralphie Parker but he winds up more obnoxious than endearing.
Salvati’s cartoonish mugging is symptomatic of a sluggish film that has as much subtlety as a sledgehammer, from the cheesy plot twists to the overbearing music score to the silly fantasy sequences and awkward visual juxtapositions.
Any reasonable chance to become poignant or profound is squandered by an approach that tries so hard to yank at the heartstrings that it unintentionally feels more cynical than uplifting. If the overall idea is to encourage acts of kindness toward others, then not recommending Little Boy seems like a good place to start.
