“Every Little Thing” is a kindhearted film for unkind times.
The documentary about a Los Angeles woman who has made it her life’s mission to rehabilitate injured hummingbirds has a gentle sweetness that feels like a balm. Terry Masear, the subject of writer-director Sally Aitken’s film, has a no-nonsense demeanor, but her affection for these tiny creatures is unmistakable. She gives them names like Raisin, Cactus and Wasabi. She assigns them narratives as she observes their behavior. She painstakingly builds them elaborate aviaries and lovingly feeds them from a syringe. And she devotes every inch of her sprawling Hollywood Hills property, inside and out, to their care.
“Their lives depend on me,” Masear says matter-of-factly as she nourishes tiny babies in a cozy, crocheted nest. Warm, quick-witted and a little quirky, Masear is an engaging subject. And while you may be wondering for a while, “Why hummingbirds?” and “How can she afford to do this full-time?” the reasoning for this specific kind of dedication, once revealed, is quite tragic.
But while “Every Little Thing” can be an inspiring exploration of empathy, and it offers stunning, slow-motion cinematography of these delicate creatures, it also grows repetitive rather quickly. The birds are varied in color and texture and seem to stare directly into your soul as they hang in the air, weightlessly. But once you’ve seen such imagery a few times, you get the idea.
“Every Little Thing” would have made a perfectly delightful segment on CBS Sunday Morning. You can just imagine the whimsical narration and the exquisite natural sound: the buzz of the wings, the breeze in the trees. As a feature-length film, it feels stretched thin. There’s a monotony to the rhythm as we see one ailment after another: an injured head, a weakened wing. Humans hover over them, worried and wondering what cruel fate might have befallen such gentle souls. The people who bring the birds to Masear get attached to them, and even after all these years, Masear herself admits she has a hard time letting go, too.
Whether it’s flying into the sky or a sad goodbye, these miniature physical therapy sessions must end at some point. Aitken isn’t shy about ladling on the feel-good score to punctuate the movie’s moments of triumph. But then again, maybe we could all use a little wind beneath our wings these days, too.
