When producer/director/writer Nicole Conn (she made the 1992 lesbian romance "Claire of the Moon") documented her pregnancy via surrogate, an interesting but hardly novel journey, she could not have foreseen that such a personal project would result in a searing, moving chronicle of joy and heartbreak, a poignant peek at the human side of so-called medical miracles.
"Little Man" transcends its obvious interest as a modern-medicine story to become a film about nothing less than the universal themes of life, death, family and unconditional love. It is a compelling story, exquisitely told.
The movie begins with the decision by Conn and her partner, political activist Gwendolyn Baba, to try to conceive a second child a year or so after the birth of their daughter, Gabrielle. For medical reasons, they decide to use a surrogate, who is impregnated with Conn's fertilized eggs. Unbeknownst to the couple, the surrogate is in less than optimum health, and numerous problems result. Conn ably documents this roller-coaster process, using thoughtful, to-the-camera narration and intimate footage that proves she's a born storyteller and documentarian.
"Little Man" hits its stride with the emergency delivery of Nicholas a full three months before his due date. Weighing less than a pound, the baby is smaller than his mother's hand and survives day-to-day on a breathing apparatus in the frightening-to-the-layperson world of the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) at Cedars Sinai in Los Angeles, where cutting-edge science offers hope for babies that would never have survived 10 years ago.
What ensues is a fascinating look, via extraordinary footage, at the long months Nicholas spends in the NICU, connected to tubes and monitoring devices, his hopes for life as fragile as his tiny body. Conn is a constant presence, and her devotion to the baby is palatable and understandable. But while her vigilance and advocacy nurture Nicholas, they also stoke her hopes for his survival, which is tempered by major health crisis after major health crisis.
Meanwhile, Conn's film shows the impact the intense, grueling experience has on her family life. Baba holds down the home front and is reluctant to get too attached to the baby. As the health care professionals interviewed in the film state again and again, such situations can rip apart even the most loving couples. The film offers a profound, deeply personal look at how Baba and Conn cope with the strain on their family and relationship, especially after Nicholas comes home with rigorous demands for his care, including a feeding tube and oxygen tank. Among its many strong qualities, "Little Man" is also a matter-of-fact depiction of a loving gay couple, with all its stresses and joys. The family they have made would defy anyone to question the validity and dedication of gay parents.
Conn bravely and honestly raises her own doubts about whether she's doing the right thing for the baby, and whether her investment in him is harming the rest of her family. As we see Nicholas' daily victory of mere survival, then his first smile, his first awkward steps, his adjustment to baby eyeglasses and hearing aids, it is impossible not to fall in love with this remarkable child and root for the whole family to beat the odds.
Beautifully shot, edited, scored and narrated by Conn, "Little Man" is a home movie turned art film, a generous and uncompromising testament to love and determination. Long after the film ends, Nicholas and his family and the burning heart that this film lays bare are impossible to shake.
In other "Little Man" news, Showtime will broadcast the unique film in April, 2006. Los Angeles audiences can catch "Little Man" in theaters beginning October 28.
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