Peggy (Cathy Dunn) is a precocious little girl who refuses to be underestimated – her small size shouldn’t fool anyone, since she is one of the most dynamic individuals one can ever hope to encounter. She passes her days visiting a variety of local New York City establishments with a photographer who is compiling a book, of which Peggy is something of a muse, or rattling around the small but beautiful Manhattan apartment she shares with her single mother, Anne (Lori March). It’s a banal but peaceful existence that Peggy enjoys, even if it means she is often very lonely. Their lives are shaken by the arrival of Larry (Gerald S. O’Loughlin), a dashing businessman who is briefly back home in the city, after living for years in South America. He is there to spend time with Anne, who he holds very tender feelings for, which she certainly doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate. They’re a perfect match, and they fill the voids that they have each been struggling with. However, Peggy isn’t particularly happy with this arrangement, as she sees Larry as something of a threat – not only does she believe he wants to profoundly change their lives, she fears that he is going to take her beloved mother away from her, leaving her alone and without any direction. Naturally, this is the furthest thought on the young man’s mind, and he actively tries to be the father figure Peggy hasn’t had for most of her young life – and as they spend more time together, they realize that there is common ground there, and that there is a very real possibility of forming a happy familial unit, granted that they are all willing to work together to find a way forward with this new and exciting chapter of their lives.

Two names that are not frequently cited as being prominent in the history of independent filmmaking, despite actually leaving quite an indelible impression on the industry, are those of  Morris Engel and Ruth Orkin, the husband and wife directing duo who may have produced only a handful of films, but with each one being a minor masterpiece in its own right. Their crowning achievement is perhaps the film that occurred in the middle of their directorial career, the adorable Lovers and Lollipops, a delightfully sweet little comedy set to the backdrop of some of New York City’s most iconic locations. This is the kind of film that thrives based off word-of-mouth, since a cursory glance at the premise may not be enough to impel viewers to give this film a chance – and once you find yourself in this world, it’s difficult to view it as anything other than a pure pleasure in every way. Engel and Orkin were some of the first pioneers of independent cinema, in both the stories they told, and the methods they employed to tell them – handheld cameras, real locations and more obscure actors in the leading roles are unconventional by even the most modern standards, so the fact that these directors who working with these concepts over half a century ago is truly impressive, and indicative of a film that warrants every bit of adoration it’s received over the course of its existence. Relatively underseen, but not to the point where it is entirely obscure and without any admiration, Lovers and Lollipops is a wonderful discovery for viewers looking for something sweet and sentimental, but not overly saccharine – and it’s worth every moment, since Engel and Orkin make sure to fill each and every frame with a sincerity that could only be possibly by filmmakers with a genuine fondness for their work.

As suggested by the title, Lovers and Lollipops is a film about duality – and considering its very simple premise, the fact that Engel and Orkin were able to make a film with parallel narratives and not have it come across as overly meandering is quite remarkable. There are two primary storylines that underpin this film – the first is that of a coming-of-age story, as seen through the eyes of Peggy, the young girl who serves as the primary protagonist and essentially the heart of the film. We see New York City from her perspective – towering buildings, neverending streets and a sense of immortality, where absolutely anything is possible, with our realization that everything is finite not being part of our psychological inventory at this age. Films with child protagonists are often quite tricky, since it’s regular to find them becoming less about the story and more framing the narrative around this gifted youngster, where everything converges into a thorough dissection of the beyond-her-years talents she apparently possesses. Lovers and Lollipops is primarily a film centred on representing some version of realism, so it stands to reason that the portrayal of this young heroine is going to be far more simplistic and akin to what we can all recognize. Cathy Dunn turns in a wonderful performance, playing Peggy with a sweetness that keeps us engaged, but doesn’t distract from the other interesting sides of the story. She may be unforgettable, but she is mainly a representative of the follies of youth, and how we tend to see the world profoundly differently in our younger years, which contrasts sharply with the concurrent storyline, which is where the soul of the film resides.

While the lovable story of a young girl making New York City her playground is very appealing (especially considering how it served to be an inspiration for the French New Wave, with films like Louis Malles’ Zazie dans le Métro and François Truffaut’s The 400 Blows being very heavily inspired by the happy-go-lucky realism of childhood presented here), the real emotional heft is with the other narrative, that which focuses on Peggy’s mother and her charming new partner, and their journey from demure courtship to potential marriage being where most of the effective commentary resides. Lovers and Lollipops is a sweet comedy, but it isn’t averse to introducing various strands of melodrama to the proceedings. After all, beneath the charming comedy-of-manners that comes about as the result of the lovable tension between a pernickety young girl and the man who is trying to win her trust, is the story of two adults who have suffered loss trying for another chance at love. The scenes between O’Loughlin and March are some of the most romantic to ever be committed to film, mainly since they are executed with simplicity. Lovers and Lollipops is built on the thesis statement of celebrating an old-fashioned kind of love, one built on emotional connection and mutual respect, which Engel and Orkin make sure is clear in every moment in which the budding romance between the two leads is the focus. This is where the heart and soul of the film flows the strongest, and the components that make the most significant difference. In a cinematic landscape focused on broad, sweeping representations of romance, this film dared to be different and present us with something much more simple, but just as effective in how it shows the intricacies of falling in love, and realizing there is more to the process than just the initial sensation.

Lovers and Lollipop is a real gem of a film, and just a sweetly sentimental little comedy that has some terrific emotional heft, much more than many will give it credit for based on its premise. It’s an undeniably small film, but one with enough heart to combat any allegations that it is an any way a slight or lesser effort. Independent cinema defined itself based entirely around these small, slice-of-life dramas that exchange splendour and spectacle for more intimate glimpses into the human condition, which is evident in every frame of this film, which is just such a delightfully irreverent look into the dynamic that exists between children and adults when they’re put into a position of working together to forge a shared future. Morris Engel and Ruth Orkin are not the most well-known filmmakers, but they’re certainly good enough to warrant attention, even if it is only for the few films they made over their careers. Lovers and Lollipops is enough to sustain them in the canon of great American filmmakers, with their incredible compassion and undying devotion to the art of storytelling being simply exquisite, and simply just a stunning testament to the human condition, which is rendered all the more impressive when we realize how this extraordinary film was made on a shoestring budget. Simple but heartwarming, and meaningful in all the most important ways, Lovers and Lollipops is an absolutely essential work of early American realism, and just a charming piece of storytelling in every way.