Little Death Review: Schwimmer & Cast Can’t Save Tonally Chaotic Film

If you’re heading to Sundance this year, you may want to buckle up before diving into director Jack Begert’s new flick “Little Death.” This ain’t your grandpa’s indie film, that’s for sure. With an almost jarring shift halfway through, Begert throws viewers for a loop in his ambitious, if perplexing, feature debut.

We kick things off focusing on sad sack TV writer Martin Solomon, played with self-deprecating wit by none other than “Friends” legend David Schwimmer. He’s popping pills, railing against “wokeness,” and just wants to make his artsy passion project come to life. So far, so Sundance-y.

But just when you get invested in Schwimmer’s midlife misery, Begert pulls the rug out from under us, ditching Martin to follow a lead-footed pair of Gen Z slackers (rising stars Dominic Fike and Talia Ryder) on a late night misadventure to retrieve their stolen car. It’s a tonal 180, trading psychological distress for a nihilistic hangout flick.

So is “Little Death” a Jekyll and Hyde-style experiment that soars or a Frankenstein’s monster hodgepodge of half-baked ideas? Audiences may have wildly different takes on Begert’s offbeat, if befuddling, big swing. But one thing’s for sure – it’s gonna get people talking.

Schwimmer’s Swan Song or Sour Note?

Alright, alright – before you labelling me one of those “I’ll be there for you” obsessives, hear me out. David Schwimmer has always been more than just goofy Ross from Friends. And in Begert’s first act headlined by the sitcom icon, Schwimmer sunk his teeth into his meatiest big screen role yet as Martin Solomon – a bitter, disillusioned TV writer whose life is falling apart in hilariously cringe-worthy ways.

On paper, Martin seems ripe for parody – a divorced, middle-aged malcontent popping antidepressants and railing about “wokeness” ruining Hollywood. But Schwimmer brings an endearing pathos to this misanthropic sad sack. Through Begert’s trippy visual effects depicting Martin’s unraveling mind, we get tender glimmers into his underlying heartache.

Still, Begert mashes the quirky character study pedal to the metal. In perhaps the film’s boldest swing, when financiers demand Martin retool his passion project script to feature a female lead, Martin himself transforms before our eyes into a woman, played by the always compelling Gaby Hoffmann. It’s a surreal twist begging for more exploration that sadly fizzles out faster than free booze at the open bar.

By the time Martin’s manic misadventures reach their breaking point, Schwimmer has you rooting against all odds for this lovable loser. Too bad we don’t get to tag along on whatever undoubtedly insane escapades come next for him after the film’s jolting genre and cast overhaul. Audiences may feel their own sense of abandonment being torn away from the Schwim’s sublime cringe comedy just when he hits his stride.

Meet the New Kids on the Weird Block

Brace for culture shock, folks. When Begert pulls a bait-and-switch halfway through “Little Death” by shelving Schwimmer’s storyline, we’re thrust headfirst into Gen Z territory with musician-actor Dominic Fike and indie “It Girl” Talia Ryder. They play a glazed-eye slacker duo whose late night quest to retrieve their stolen car turns into a hallucinatory thrill ride across nocturnal LA.

The gritty hangout vibe feels ripped from an ultra real episodic in the vein of “Euphoria” or “Skins.” As AJ and Karla drift between house parties, roadside diners and one very intense drug den, we get a fly-on-the-wall peek into the dangerous highs and lows of rudderless youth culture. It’s an atmospheric downshift from the madcap animation of Act One, with Fike and Ryder magnetically bouncing off a cast of fellow hip young talents.

When their wild goose chase leads the friends to face their addiction demons, the story taps unexpectedly into profound Gen Z angst. Underneath the sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll sheen, Fike and Ryder poignantly capture the longing for connection and meaning so many young people feel adrift without today.

By trading Schwimmer’s midlife laugh factory for this balmy, neo-noir Joyride, Begert makes a bold Pixelation statement. Not everything in his hotshot directing debut clicks. But as AJ and Karla continue stumbling through the night looking for clarity in all the wrong places, Begert emerges as an exciting new voice shining a blacklight on the relentless anxiety of modern youth.

Finding The Threads that Bind

By now Begert has most viewers puzzling, “WTF do these storylines even have to do with each other?” Fair question. On the surface, the tales of a Hollywood has-been versus teenage rebels without a cause seem worlds apart.

But beneath all the flashy visuals and jolting plot swerves, “Little Death” is anchored in deeper thematic parallels. Both of Begert’s duelling lead duos are addicts in their own way, leaning on pills or harder vices to numb daily disappointment. And both are seeking purpose, chasing fleeting highs in doomed attempts to distract from the voids within.

The characters themselves barely intersect. But like a subtle wink, Begert strings their stories together through curious breadcrumbs. Schwimmer’s pup, snatched by Fike and Ryder after their house burglary gone awry. Strange déjà vu echoes when the friends stumble onto sets eerily similar to Martin’s Hollywood haunts. It’s never clear if these breadcrumbs signify some deeper hidden connection, or if Begert is just toying with us as usual.

Either way, tracing these threads becomes a tantalizing viewing challenge. How do Martin and the gang’s overlapping odysseys of addiction and disillusionment resonate across the generations? Maybe by bridging two disparate worlds often misunderstood by the other, Begert suggests we all share an underlying fallibility that binds humanity closer than any surface differences suggest.

Begert’s Bold Freshman Swing

Well folks, we’ve come to the end of this wild ride through Jack Begert’s genre-mashing mind. And the question still looms – does “Little Death” herald an exhilarating new directorial talent, or collapse under the weight of its own ambitious extremes?

There’s merit to both perspectives. Moment to moment, Begert displays visual dynamism, seamlessly shifting from the kaleidoscopic chaos of Schwimmer’s unraveling to the verité grit of Fike and Ryder’s nightcrawl. He coaxes stellar turns from his cast, while peppering the proceedings with cheeky satire on Hollywood’s “woke” influence.

But in smashing his two disparate stories together, Begert strains audience patience and emotional investment. Neither storyline fully resolves, leaving character arcs and thematic throughlines feeling truncated. For all its flashes of brilliance, “Little Death” often leaves you appreciating the parts but puzzling over the fractured whole.

Maybe Begert’s genre mash-up is best appreciated as the explosive, kitchen-sink calling card of a director announcing his high-wire ambitions. Not everything works. But the youthful electricity Begert injects into stale Hollywood formulas promises equally arresting efforts as he matures. For now, consider “Little Death” a flawed but frequently inspired display of filmmaking daring that suggests Begert’s best may be yet to come. Wherever he takes us next, it’s sure to be one hell of a ride.

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