Where to Stream: Little Evil

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Netflix’s Little Evil is a surprisingly sweet, rather — dare I say it? — cute, horror comedy that injects heart into the “spawn of Satan” genre. Adam Scott plays a flustered everyman who begins to suspect that his new stepson Lucas might be the anti-Christ. Scott’s character Gary must first deal with the revelation that, yes, this odd child who speaks in a menacing voice through a goat puppet is Satan’s child, and then he has to figure out what to do with that information. Will he kill him? Will he save him? Will they bond in a water park? Little Evil tackles all this and finds time to stand up for progressive gender roles.

You read that correctly. A silly horror comedy takes it upon itself to give its audience a lesson in just dealing with gender fluidity. It does so in two major measures: the introduction of a hilarious supporting character whose own gender fluidity is treated as an absolute non-issue, and a subversion of father/mother roles in the film’s climax.

Up-and-comedy comedy star Bridget Everett plays AL, Gary’s co-worker and pal. Everett is a woman, but everything about AL, from AL’s cute wife, AL’s monster truck obsession, AL’s little league coaching, and AL’s welcome admission to a stepfather support group suggests that AL does not identify as a woman. In fact, AL is often identified as a man. I turned to google about halfway through viewing Little Evil to confirm my initial suspicion that AL was written to be played by a man, but that Everett was cast simply because she was the best person for the job. I could not confirm this suspicion — because the only article I found discussing this characterization online was a review lambasting the film for championing the social justice issues of 2017, which, you know, is one person’s opinion — but then I realized that it didn’t matter what gender AL was supposed to be. That was the point. The film never went out of its way to address AL’s gender identity because it’s not actually a big deal. Again, this is just one person’s opinion on the matter here, but AL’s gender identification does nothing to change the plot of Little Evil.

The film’s ending also gives us a subtle, but very important, subversion of traditional masculinity. SPOILER ALERT!

Gary winds up feeling actual paternal love for Lucas and tries to save him from a Doomsday cult that wants to sacrifice the boy to Satan to spark the apocalypse. When Gary reaches for Lucas and holds him above a fiery pit, the boy snaps out of his possession to cry, “Daddy, I’m scared.” Gary kindly replies, “Don’t be scared, sweetie.” It’s a rare moment where a father figure and his son are allowed to display not just emotional vulnerability, but to use a soft term of endearment like “sweetie.” Later, Lucas’s mother, played by Evangeline Lilly, is the one to step up and make the final blow against the evil cult leader who orchestrated all the madness. Gary’s role in the film was to be the child’s protector. Again, it’s subtle, but it says that fathers are allowed to look after children with the same tender ferocity we associate with mothers.

All in all, Little Evil is a breezy kind of film. It’s a bit of fluff perfect for a lazy weeknight or rainy weekend afternoon. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel when it comes to comedy or horror conventions, but it does offer a very nonchalant take on our culture’s shifting view of gender. Little Evil argues that our society’s ever-evolving understanding of gender is nothing to be scared of — but the awesome pressure of being a step-parent might be.

Stream Little Evil on Netflix