The 1930s were so overwhelmingly filled with gangster films, that on the odd occasion that one came along that dared to look at the popular genre from a different perspective, it would immediately stand out. The Little Giant is perhaps not a film that most are entirely familiar with, but once it reaches the orbit of the right viewer, it’s unlikely going to be forgotten, being one of those films that thrives in the way that more off-kilter works tend to. The film, which was directed by Roy Del Ruth (quite a reliable director both before and after the Pre-Code era, in which this film was made), The Little Giant is a peculiar but captivating comedy with a lot of heart, and an even more elaborate sense of humour, which is effectively conveyed in the fascinating screenplay by          Robert Lord and Wilson Mizner, who tells the story of Bugs Ahearn, a man who made his living through selling alcohol during the Prohibition era, and is forced to find other methods of acquiring wealth once the ban on booze is lifted by presidential decree, and he is essentially out of a job, his livelihood lost in one fell swoop. Sparkling with the kind of elegant but subversive wit that we often found in films produced during the period, and made with the fervent dedication of a group of collaborators that genuinely believed in the product they were making, The Little Giant is an absolute triumph, a bold but endearing attempt at deconstructing a genre that was at its peak during this time, making any venture that dared to call its major tenets into question immediately controversial in some way, and which ultimately helps this film develop a much thicker sense of self-awareness than it would’ve had without such constraints asserted on it.

One of the many interesting qualities about films produced in and around the Pre-Code era was, even in works that actively questioned the genre in which they were operating, there was very often some kind of presence by titans in that particular field, whether it is an actor, director or writer. The Little Giant features arguably one of the most famous faces in the history of gangster cinema, the wonderful Edward G. Robinson, who is (as we’d expect) turning in absolutely impeccable work as the titular “little giant”, a man who may have dominated the illicit alcohol industry back in Chicago, but finds his plans to assert his power on the Californian high society consistently thwarted by virtue of his outright incompetence as a member of the elite. Robinson was an exceptionally strong actor, and much like his friend and fellow gangster archetype James Cagney, he could convincingly make use of his unique appearance and unconventional demeanour in even the most absurd circumstances, still delivering stellar work. The role of Bugs Ahearn was tailor-made for Robinson, who plays the down-on-his-luck, but yet perpetually optimistic, gangster with a spirited gusto that we don’t often see from actors, especially in situations when they are asked to parody their own image, with the almost milquetoast Bugs Ahearn being the intentional antithesis of the actor’s performance in Little Caesar, the role for which he will ultimately always be known, thus making attempts at playfully challenging such characters so much more effective – and Robinson was truly a good sport for being willing and able to take on the part, and he was ultimately rewarded with one of his finest roles in his long and storied career.

While it may not seem major on the surface, The Little Giant is an unexpectedly fascinating and complex satire of class division, with the story of a gangster deciding to try his luck at leading a “normal” life (by which he means being able to live off his wealth, rather than earning more through illicit activities) making for quite a pointed satire. There isn’t any real reason why this film is not better regarded, since everything about it seems to be quite well-formed, especially the smaller details that would be otherwise forgotten in a film that took a more conventional approach to the story. Framing The Little Giant as a comedy, rather than a sobering story of a criminal attempting to go straight and become legitimate, was one of the stronger choices, since the premise naturally lends itself to humour, and with someone like Robinson at the core (who could easily play up the more eccentrics sides of the main character) it made for quite an effective comedy, one that may not necessarily be as hilarious as it is mildly amusing and very endearing, but still leaves an impression. Considering how so much of the story centres on provoking conversations around social strata, approaching it from a more humorous place still allows it to be effective and scathing, but in a way that is a lot more gentle and accessible. This very simple but effective approach ultimately elevates the film and single-handedly makes it very special, evoking conversations that may be quite common in terms of other films that look at social division, but very few managing to plumb as effective a satire as the director did with this film, which is a lot stronger than we’d expect based on a cursory glance.

The Little Giant is a terrific film, and one that deserves a much strong reputation, for a number of reasons. Firstly, it is anchored by one of the most charming performances ever delivered by Edward G. Robinson, who proves himself to be more than willing to carefully go against his own particular acting style in a way that seemed like he was making a deliberate choice, leading to a phenomenal, and ultimately very funny, performance that feels rooted in a deep understanding of not only the genre that this film is satirizing, but other conventions as well. The film as a whole is a very sharp satire, with a script filled to the brim with excellent dialogue (some of the best of the era), and a smart approach to telling a story, being complex without relying on complex subject matter, being both intelligent and accessible in tandem. It may not be the funniest film, nor the most captivating satire on the subject of class inequality and the consequences of leading a life of crime – but what it lacks in originality it more than makes up for in sheer heartfulness, with the genuine humour and very endearing social commentary making for a deeply compelling comedy that gives us the chance to engage with one of the more effective satires of the era, made at a time when such daring projects were not only commonplace, but actively encouraged – the Pre-Code era was such a short time, yet many filmmakers seized the opportunity to subvert expectations and shock and bewilder, leading to some absolutely exquisite, and always wonderfully compelling, works of outstanding complexity and forthright brilliance, of which this film is certainly one of the most endearing entries.