The Little Death (2014)

The Little Death is that rare romantic comedy brave enough to be both tender and hilariously, wince-inducingly honest about what people want when the bedroom door closes—and what they’re afraid to admit out loud. Set in suburban Sydney, it follows a handful of loosely connected couples as their private fantasies collide with everyday decency, and the result is a string of comic set-pieces that feel sharp, human, and oddly affectionate rather than smug or cynical. Josh Lawson’s script has the confidence to go for big laughs while still giving the ensemble room for real chemistry and sweetness, building to a final stretch that’s unexpectedly touching. It’s definitely not for everyone—some scenarios are intentionally provocative and one thread is genuinely uncomfortable—but if you can handle a risqué premise, you’ll find a smart, warmly acted film that treats vulnerability as the punchline and the payoff.

The Little Death is clearly trying to be a cheeky, sex-positive ensemble comedy about suburban couples confronting taboo fantasies, and it deserves credit for tackling awkward topics without total prudishness. The problem is it’s a mixed bag: some segments feel sharp and surprisingly tender, while others play like stretched-out sitcom sketches that lean on one-note jokes until the premise runs dry. Tonally it can lurch from sweet to squirmy to outright uncomfortable, especially when it brushes up against consent issues in ways that won’t land as “naughty fun” for everyone. If you want genuinely daring, consistently witty erotic comedy, you may find this rough and uneven—but if you’re okay with hit-and-miss vignettes, there are a couple of storylines that are funny and oddly heartfelt.