A Love Actually for the mildly kinky, Josh Lawson’s The Little Death offers a roundelay of suburban-bedroom subplots, each about the naughty fetishes of couples eager to defibrillate their love life.
The Little Death is his first feature as a director, and it handles taboo subjects of sexual desire through intertwining character vignettes (similar in method to Love Actually).
These resonances, with some notable exceptions, feel diagrammed rather than dramatized, and there's a prolonged meet-cute near the end of the film, between a deaf man and an attractive female sign-language interpreter, so lamely contrived that it could've been air-lifted out of Love Actually.
His film reminded me a little of Love Actually in the sense that it contains a group of unrelated short stories that follow a series of couples as they try to push their relationships in a positive, forward-moving direction.
Lawson’s film does its best not to judge its characters, and his jokes occasionally probe some dark and daring territory, but The Little Death never feels much more than Love Actually after dark – or Sex Actually, if you will.