Yet this sort of clinical detective movie hinges on creating a feeling of revelation, a kind of horror-saturated awe. Set in 1990, “The Little Things” is in the grisly forensics genre, with episodes unfolding at blood-splattered murder sites viewed through ultraviolet light, as well as a pleasing narrative tangle or two. That’s a major disappointment, since this is the first lavishly scaled, multi-star-driven thriller we’ve had the chance to see in quite a while. Banks”), is a serial-killer procedural that would like to be “Se7en,” with a great many touches lifted from “Manhunter,” but it plays more like a not-so-very-special episode of “C.S.I.” And you’ve really seen the rest of the movie before - almost literally, since “The Little Things,” written and directed by John Lee Hancock (“The Blind Side,” “Saving Mr. That said, you’ve seen this kind of performance before. Leto, in his way, burns a small hole in the screen. (That’s what gives his performance an inner conviction.) Naturally, he outwits the cops, but everything still points to Sparma as the killer: his gloomy hoarder’s apartment, the fact that he confessed to a murder 8 years ago, the quality he conveys of being a skeevy low-life mastermind. Sparma, a loner, adores being the center of attention, and so does Jared Leto. Leto, drawing on his quick-minded perversity (and wearing a touch of prosthetics that disfigure his handsomeness into a jaded rottenness), communicates a great deal of sick pleasure. Uh, you were expecting him not to enjoy it? “Do you get the feeling he’s enjoying this?” asks Deke, watching the action through the two-way mirror.
He’s given gruesome photos of the murder victims, which he looks over with just enough deadpan relish to tease the cops without incriminating himself. But in the interrogation, he comes on as the designer-prole version of a Lectery evil genius, three steps ahead of every question he’s asked. Sparma is a working stiff with a shuffling walk who will take a city bus to a strip club. He’s creepy and weirdly shaped (skinny, but with a paunch), with glassy black eyes, greasy long hair, a hippie beard, a geek grin, a work shirt buttoned up to his Adam’s apple, and a jaunty, nattering tone of self-amused viciousness.
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