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7/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 7/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Little Giant remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you're in the mood for a gangster movie that forgets to be a gangster movie halfway through, The Little Giant is a weirdly charming way to burn an afternoon. It’s definitely not the heavy-hitting crime drama you might expect from seeing Edward G. Robinson on the poster. If you want high-octane mob violence, look somewhere else. If you want to see a guy try to navigate a country club while secretly wanting to punch people, you're in the right spot.
Robinson plays Bugs Ahearn, a guy who is essentially a shark out of water. Watching him try to talk like a refined gentleman is like watching a toddler try to explain tax law. It’s funny, mostly because he’s playing it with this frantic, sweaty energy. You can tell he’s just waiting for an excuse to start a brawl.
The transition from Chicago to the California sun is jarring, which is clearly the point. One minute we’re in dark rooms with guys named 'Stompy', the next we’re at a lawn party where everyone is wearing white suits. It’s a bit Fireman, Save My Gal! in its level of silliness, though the tone feels like it’s drifting between a satire of the upper class and a straight-up comedy.
There’s a scene where he tries to learn how to be a 'gentleman' that goes on for a little too long. I think I counted three separate jokes about him not knowing how to use a dinner fork. It stops being clever after the first one, but the look on his face is so genuinely confused that I didn't mind. He looks like he’s about to cry or commit a murder, maybe both.
It reminds me a bit of the frantic energy in Doctor X, though obviously much less spooky. The script keeps pushing him into these corners where he has to choose between his old life and his new one, but he’s just so bad at being a 'civilized' person that it’s hard to take the moral stakes seriously. Not that it matters, really.
There’s this one moment where he’s trying to impress a woman and he just starts bragging about his bootlegging days like it’s a career in accounting. The silence in the room is great. You can almost hear the crickets, even though they’re supposed to be in a fancy mansion. 🦗
It’s not a film that’s going to change your life. It’s not even a film that’s going to stay in your head for more than a day. But it’s got Robinson, and he’s clearly having a blast playing a guy who is perpetually annoyed by the existence of manners. Sometimes that’s enough.
It ends on a note that feels a little unearned, like the writers just decided to call it a day and go home. I wasn't even mad about it. By that point, I was just tired of watching him try to hold a teacup.
IMDb —
1925
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