Littermates is a somewhat familiar but nonetheless welcome take on a well-worn trope: the cozy post-apocalypse. The initial plot outline that I read, which talked about two people taken in by an “enigmatic caretaker” during a mysterious war before one of them “pushes past [his] rules, [testing] the fragile order of the cottage [and] exposing the fear, loyalty, and unanswered questions holding their makeshift family together,” set the expectation that this would be a much more dour, claustrophobic film. It sounds like the setup to something like 10 Cloverfield Lane, but this film isn’t about a man taking advantage of the end of the world to exercise his authority over others; it’s something much quieter, stranger, and more bittersweet.
The film opens on a bloodied, disoriented man (Joey Bader) stumbling across a field where he finds a helicopter and a man who introduces himself as Chester (Oliver Woolf). Chester takes the man home, cleans him up, gives him the name “Liam,” and gradually helps him relearn to speak. Despite the nearly constant, distant sounds of gunfire and the plumes of smoke that periodically mar the horizon, the two settle into an easy, quiet domesticity, with Chester taking on a paternal role that involves doling out tokens he calls “nifties.” Liam can redeem his nifties for various rewards, like trampoline or hot tub time (three nifties), karaoke night (five nifties), or his favorite meal (twelve nifties). This peace is interrupted by the arrival of a new “wanderer” (Kaylee McGregor), whom Chester names “Mel.” A one-sided jealousy develops between Liam and Mel, with Liam behaving like an older sibling who covets the attention that the new baby gets, but Mel’s recovery eventually surpasses Liam’s, as she becomes a bit more self aware while he seems content to remain childishly incurious about the outside world. The issue comes to a head when Mel reveals she’s been saving her tokens for “forest adventure” (a whopping thirty nifties), which distresses Liam, who is terrified of the outside world. When Chester is gravely injured during their expedition, things begin to fall apart rapidly.
Littermates builds its world methodically and melodically. The war that ended the world—who was involved, what the conflict was, whether it was a civil or international conflict—is never really outlined, and it’s also unclear just how long it’s been going on; the only clue is that the photos of young Chester in the house which we see late in the film depict an ordinary childhood, so everything has to have happened during the lifetime of our tiny cast. We know all that we need to know from the get-go; people affected by some kind of weapon are wandering the countryside in a zombie-like daze, but are capable of being rehabilitated with care. Chester’s presence never feels menacing, but his overly patronizing tone with Liam and the structure that he provides are just bizarre enough that we’re kept guessing whether he is as altruistic as he appears to be or if he’s hiding some secret motive. Liam’s passivity is laid out immediately, as he accepts the name he’s given without a fight, while Mel, when presented with the name Melanie, crosses out the “anie” before joining the others in karaoke/singing practice, showing that she’s willing to accept Chester’s guidance, but only to a point. It’s good stuff.
Littermates is currently only screening at Alamo Drafthouse theaters through the chain’s new Alamo Exclusives brand. I’m not sure when (or if) it will expand to a wider release, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The performances are strong, and the film lovingly lulls you into a false sense of security before ripping it away, and not in the ways that one would expect. As the narrative finds its way to its conclusion, it doesn’t necessarily reach a resolution, and I appreciate the commitment to ambiguity and the courage to allow the audience to decide how to interpret the ending. It’s well worth watching when it finds its way to you.
-Mark “Boomer” Redmond
