“Paranoia’s the garlic in life’s kitchen, right: you can never have too much”

This humorous but ominous sentiment appears in Thomas Pynchon’s novel, Bleeding Edge. Considering how defiant Pynchon’s work is to the screen (to date, only having a single official adaptation, the brilliant Inherent Vice in 2014, although some may argue that Alex Ross Perry’s experimental film Impolex could be one as well), it is odd that I frequently use the author in my discussions on films that are not really related to his work in any real capacity. Is it because I am so unashamed in my adoration of Pynchon that I want to mention him at any available moment, or is it because he’s one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century, and someone who wrote works with enduring ideas that still persist as relevant to the current socio-political-cultural landscape? Probably a bit of both. However, using Pynchon here is not arbitrary, because in 1973, he wrote Gravity’s Rainbow, not only one of the greatest novels of all time, but also one of the great works of paranoid fiction, a genre Pynchon has defined considerably, and has been present from the beginning of his literary career, right up until his most recent novel, the aforementioned Bleeding Edge. It has relevance to what we are talking about here, specifically the quote that opened this review, because paranoia is a subject many artists focus on, including Alan Arkin in his directorial debut, Little Murders, based on the brilliant play by Jules Feiffer. Little Murders is a work of unrelenting brilliance, a portrait of the existential angst that comes with living in a big city, and perhaps living in general. A dark comedy with an overabundance of paranoia and dread, Little Murders is some of the most brilliant films of the 1970s, and proof that paranoia is a powerful narrative tool, and there is no limit to how much you can use, as long as you use it well, as shown here.

Alfred Chamberlain (Elliot Gould) is a young man living and working in New York City. Both professionally and personally, he is a photographer who is incredibly dedicated to his work, to the point where his career forms the basis of his life overall. This changes when he meets Patsy (Marcia Rodd), an over-obsessive and overwhelming young woman who has a happy outlook on life, going so far as to be irritatingly optimistic. She meets the rugged but dull Alfred and intends to “mold” him into what she considers to be an ideal figure of masculinity, which he is adverse to in many ways, not thinking change is particularly good, especially change that requires him to care about the world around him. The couple lives in a city where absolutely nothing functions as it should, as there are constant power failures, and crime is to a point where Alfred cannot walk down the street without being beaten up, or where random people are being gunned down without any reason or motive. Yet, amidst this almost chaotic view of a city in pandemonium, there is still an unconventional love story, with Patsy forcing her new beau to become assimilated into her eccentric family, including her volatile father, Carol (Vincent Gardenia), her over-excessive mother Marge (Elizabeth Wilson), and her brother, Kenny (Jon Korkes), who can only be described as unsettlingly strange. Throughout the course of the film, the “romance” between our two lead characters progresses, all the while social anarchy occurs around them when it is clear that nothing actually makes sense.

Nothing making sense is the core of Little Murders. Once again, we can draw upon the great Pynchon in his curt but resonant remark of “why should things be easy to understand?”, taken from his 1963 postmodern masterpiece V, which also focuses on a seemingly-normal protagonist encountering a strange array of oddball characters in a chaotic version of New York City. The audience of this film is led on a wild chase through lawlessness, with Arkin and Feiffer relishing in their ability to imbue this film with the most absurd possible storyline, taking these characters on a reckless journey through nihilistic purgatory, focusing on the minutiae and heightening it to the point of considerable irrationality. In short, Little Murders just does not make much sense, which is quite a powerful statement, because this is a very lucid film – I wouldn’t call it particularly surreal, because it has a logical progression and it seems realistic and coherent – yet, the absurdity comes in the motivations of these characters, the actions occurring around them and the fact that this film commits the ultimate narrative sin: it doesn’t give answers. To evade explanation and rationalizing when telling a story is neither easy or recommended, but when it is done properly, there is rarely anything more powerful. Arkin and Feiffer dismantle the concept of making sense or showing characters with any sensibility throughout this film, and the result is something quite wonderful, a delirious dark comedy about some very despicable people living in a city where anything can happen, much like our own world, but in the case of the vision of New York City that we are given in Little Murders, it very likely will happen.

Little Murders is an absurdist masterpiece on two different levels, within the micro-absurdist and macro-absurdist, with the former referring to the individual characters and their heightened sense of coherent irrationality, and the latter meaning the wider-scope of their exploits, namely the city they exist in. Little Murders looks at a small set of characters that are developed into abnormal but recognizable individuals, those that seem like we could encounter them, but are ever-so-slightly atypical, they can’t possibly truly exist. The performances in this film help define these characters, and rightly so, considering Little Murders is adapted from Feiffer’s stage play. The actorly roots of this story are clear throughout, with the frequency of monologues and character-driven storylines that give a great showcase to the talents of the capable cast. Elliot Gould, one of the great everyman actors of the 1970s, takes the lead role, and he gives one of his most unheralded performances as Alfred. Perhaps Gould did not have the same wholesome charms of some of the other great everyman performers like James Stewart or Jack Lemmon, but he definitely had the required amount of urban charisma to play Alfred, a young New York trying to find his way through a hostile city. Armed with his droll execution and uncomfortable dullness that makes Alfred such an unconventional protagonist (if we can even consider him that), Gould adds an unconventional energy to this film. Marcia Rodd is likable enough to hold our attention but has a suitable dosage of irritating quirks and over-excess of eccentricity to portray this character and her self-righteous quest to succeed at her very flawed humanitarian conquests. Vincent Gardenia and Elizabeth Wilson are terrific, with their own absurd interpretations of a middle-aged married couple and parent of adult children being a great subversion of traditional family tropes. Moreover, despite appearing in only one scene each, Little Murders features two great performances from Donald Sutherland and director Alan Arkin, as a mad preacher and a cop in the middle of a mental breakdown respectively. Little Murders has an undeniably complex concept, and it took a strong cast to execute this story, and thankfully everyone was willing to throw themselves fully into this ridiculous story, delivering tremendous performances that are as broadly absurd as they are intricately complex.

On the macro-absurdist level, Little Murders looks at ideas far larger than simply the individual characters whose stories we follow. This is a film about a city in decay, which represents an entire social attitude, a mentality that plagues modern society and is the reason for the deterioration of decency and morality. Little Murders looks at the modern social landscape, and how it is built on apathy – no one pays their fellow individual a second thought, using them as a means to only propel themselves further, not caring too much about those around them. Little Murders is an effective social comedy, presenting a bleak and relentlessly hopeless depiction of a city in rapid decline, due entirely to the complete apathy towards others. Our main character fashions himself as an “apathist” – he has no emotions, he doesn’t pay too much attention to anything than himself and his own selfish endeavours, and he remains stagnant in his refusal to start feeling anything, much to the chagrin of his wife, who wants a husband who can be committed to experiencing the joys of life with her. Obviously, because Little Murders is an unpredictable dark comedy, the moment Alfred starts to feel something, his wife is immediately killed by the anonymous assailant(s) that is responsible for the countless arbitrary murders occurring around the city. Little Murders makes a potent statement towards the absurd nature of society, and how the only way to survive in such a harsh landscape is through a lack of emotions, and a refusal to fight any of the adversarial forces that threaten to break individuals. Numbness and apathy are the most desirable qualities to have because you cannot ever be upset or unhappy if you never felt anything in the first place, right?

Little Murders is a great social film, and it takes on the most cinematic of cities, New York. Has there ever been a city that has been the muse of artists more than New York? Paris and London are always reliable and the subject of a multitude of works, yet there is something about New York City that always strikes a chord and seems just a bit more authentic when it is presented on screen. From gritty crime films to quaint romantic dramas, from broad action films to offbeat existential comedies, New York City has been the home to a panoply of stories. None of them, however, are anything close to what Arkin presents us with here in Little Murders. This is a film that blurs genres and executes a story with swift brilliance, and unquestionable gusto. It is an unpredictable film and one that presents us with a recognizable but still terrifying vision of a city that cinema has long had a love affair with. It is a violent film that evokes a visceral reaction of claustrophobic intensity, with the dark comedy veering away from simply being extremely absurd, moving into a realm of comic terror. It is an unsettling film, one that uses its concept in a way that is entirely unpredictable – we know that there are constant power cuts and random murders, yet each time one of them occurs, it is unexpected and shocking, despite the characters (and the audience) being well-aware that these threats are lurking not far beyond what we see. Too many works take an audacious concept for granted and don’t explore the limits of what they can do with an original story nearly enough. Arkin doesn’t dare neglect the fascinating and innovative aspects of Feiffer’s play – he journeys deep into the existential core of the story, and finds the intricate hideosity of life, but not abandoning the inherent humor that comes with existing.

I really found Little Murders to be an exceptional film. It is an absurd but effective film that uses its innovative premise, and unhinged misanthropy, to depict a hellish version of society, allowing it to make powerful statements about individuals and how each one of us is motivated by our own selfish intentions. More than anything, Little Murders makes the potent statement that the world is not a particularly pleasant place – it is violent, unpredictable and hostile, due entirely to the aforementioned self-obsessed nature of society. Instead of being optimistic and trying to see the best in a difficult situation, maybe we should strive to be less like Patsy and more like Alfred, not feeling anything, being numb to the world around us. Little Murders, much like Pynchon’s masterworks, shows a bleak portrait of the world, but never flinches away from showing society in all of its absurd glory, with paranoia and despair being counteracted by a general sense of apathy to the events transpiring around us – it evokes the comforting adage many of us use in times of trouble: why worry about something out of our control? The only difference is, from the perspective of this film, that “something” is the rapid degradation of society and the hopeless despair that comes from modern existence in a selfish world. Little Murders says a great deal, and it does so in a way that is darkly comic, hypnotic and brilliant. One of the most effective (and terrifying) dark comedies ever made.