Rating: 5 out of 10.

I wonder if your little deception plays out as a comedy or a tragedy.

Michael Maren’s A Little White Lie is a curious film. Adapted from Chris Belden’s novel Shriver, it tells the tale of a nobody handyman invited to be the guest of honor at a small college’s annual writers festival. Shriver (Michael Shannon) is justifiably perplexed. He knows it was sent in error, but he doesn’t know what to do. And rather than decline or simply ignore it altogether, he lets his friend Lenny (Mark Boone Junior) exacerbate things by accepting on his behalf.

Why? Who knows? We often see Shriver fighting with another version of himself, so he might be schizophrenic. Or maybe just lonely? Either way, the moment he sees the defeat on his host Simone Cleary’s (Kate Hudson) face upon standing her up at the airport with cold feet, the guilt of not lying proves too much to bear.

Thus his adventure begins. Shriver playing Shriver. He knows nothing about writing. Nothing about the masterwork (Goat Time) this J.D. Salinger-esque recluse wrote to get so many people excited about an impromptu public appearance. Definitely nothing about the glad-handing and pomp and circumstance being a celebrity hounded for autographs, insight on manuscripts, and time demands.

So, he takes Simone’s lead, becoming enamored by her modesty when it comes to her own writing and the enthusiasm she has to advance the craft through guests like “him” and Blythe Brown (Aja Naomi King) or Victor Bennet (Adhir Kalyan). Maybe he could be a writer too. Maybe he can learn something from them to better understand himself.

This aspect of the story is intriguing—especially the mirroring between Shriver’s duality insofar as being an imposter and the duality of the lead character in GOat Time (also named Shriver). The more he learns about the person he’s pretending to be, the more overlaps he finds. And the fact that he knows nothing about anything anyone is talking about when they laud or criticize “his” work allows him to respond with genuine contrition.

Maybe his book was misogynist. Maybe it was something that should be left in the past—something the real Shriver perhaps distanced himself from having to defend by disappearing. As it is, Simone, T (Don Johnson), and Teresa (Romy Byrne) are simply ecstatic a Shriver is here to drum up interest. Until murder, pedophilia, bigotry, sexual assault, and comeuppance arrive.

Hence my label “curious.” Maren and Belden take us to some weird places for the gag while introducing even more familiar faces in Da’Vine Joy Randolph, Jimmi Simpson, Peyton List, Wendie Malick, Zach Braff, and M. Emmet Walsh. Does it all work? No. Does it undercut the psychological epiphany happening behind Shriver’s shakily uncertain façade? Yes. Not that the film treats what’s going on emotionally within his character with any semblance of the nuance necessary for it to truly say anything anyway.

I guess that’s the real disappointment then: that the premise and underlying theme of self-discovery and worth is captivating. And that subplots dealing with misogyny definitely have the potential to augment them if they weren’t so superficially rendered. Shannon and Hudson are very good, though. Both trying their best to tether the surrounding chaos to the ground.


Kate Hudson and Michael Shannon in A LITTLE WHITE LIE; courtesy of Saban Films.

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