‘Little Pink House’ is a Gift of a Story in Dull Packaging

Rapacious politicians collaborate with powerful corporations to destructive consequences and the simmering rage of disgruntled, powerless citizens. This is the plot of so many legal dramas set in a thankfully distant reality. But in the case of “Little Pink House,” an unfortunately true story, the short-sighted political machinations of municipal figures have harrowingly larger-than-life consequences for the residents of an economically-depressed New London, Connecticut, that can be extrapolated to include all American citizens. The nightmare commences when a cadre of politicians collaborate with Pfizer Pharmaceuticals to redevelop land on which many residents have lived quietly for generations, on a waterfront that will soon become the province of new, wealthy residents. Susette Kelo (Catherine Keener), a soft-spoken paramedic and proud owner of a little pink house on that very land, helms a legal battle against the misuse of Eminent Domain, the right that governments reserve to seize private land for a purported public benefit, often for the construction of highways and hospitals.

The film, despite its unassuming treasure of a story—a homegrown, quietly heroic crusade made possible by Kelo’s admirable grit—falters in its ineffectual presentation. Balaker takes but a chunk out of a world rich in hypocrisy and complex and—most importantly—real figures with complicated motivations and lives. Balaker never sufficiently establishes Kelo’s backstory or coaxes foundational curiosity from her audience, and her politicians are generic incarnations of digital avatars, predictably pugnacious or laughably delusional. The story, which deserves more attention and wider emotional investment that it probably garners, suffers from so little dramatic embellishment that it becomes forgettable without a conscious appreciation of its salience.

Balaker seems devoted, and admirably so, to the bare-bones truth of the story and Kelo’s steadfast integrity, as she doesn’t adorn her film with cinematic frills or dramatic side characters that can serve as a counterpoint to the shy heroine and her wan deliveries. As the real Susette Kelo makes cameos toward the end of the film and in actual newsreels, Keener portrays Kelo’s quiet sincerity with remarkable perceptiveness. But the problem with a film that remains so true to its underdog and that isn’t visually exciting is that it bores. The beginning of the film is slow-moving and particularly wasteful because Kelo’s emotional backstory is hinted at, but confusingly so, in her will-they-or-won’t-they friendship with a local handyman (Callum Keith Rennie) that is inexplicably strained from the start.

The peripheral characters do not boast any more complexity. Charlotte Wells (Jeanne Tripplehorn), an immaculately kempt and ambitious municipal leader, smiles slyly into a phone while negotiating her part in the Pfizer deal with the governor (Aaron Douglas). Her steely composure and undeniable competence are pointlessly undermined by a randomly humorous comment she makes on the witness stand when asked for a “yes” or “no” answer: “I said yes at the end instead of at the beginning. That’s how the French frame their answers. I’ll try to think more Anglo-American.” Perhaps Balaker could have complicated the ethical questions at the heart of the film if Wells were truly delusional about her efforts to save the community she very distantly commands, instead of being so overtly conniving from the beginning. Other forgettable men appear on screen as they partake in meetings where they peacock and yell into phones, claiming slots in the film’s plot to do just that: Motion through the expected affectations of the soulless and faceless politicians in the popular imagination. They even use explicit narrative exposition. Early in the film, one man asks, “What the hell is New London?” Another dispensable politician responds with a wannabe zinger: “Absolutely nothing.”

Kelo’s case raises urgently important questions about the limits of governmental jurisdiction, and gestures toward the insidious ways in which government officials might misuse their rights under the guise of public service. In one of the most stirring moments, the real Susette Kelo stands bereft in an eerily empty, snow-glazed field where her charming pink house once stood. The film would most likely appeal to those who know Kelo’s story before they watch it, as they can probably bring complicating and thoughtful insight to the major plot points. It’s a tall order for a serious legal saga with so many moving parts and that is steeped in the unsavory brine of bureaucracy. But with a little more concentrated emotional floridity, Balaker could have hit the sweet spot between mawkishly sentimental and tediously informative.