THE STORY – Author and wildlife rehabilitator Terry Masear dedicates her life to saving injured hummingbirds in Los Angeles. Her compassion and empathy serves as a reminder that grace can be found in the smallest of acts and the tiniest of creatures.
THE CAST – Terry Masear
THE TEAM – Sally Aitken (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 93 Minutes
It’s easy to be cynical about “Every Little Thing.” As it’s a documentary about a woman who runs a hummingbird recovery in Los Angeles, with stunning cinematography soundtracked by “magical” chime and flute sounds and plinking piano as she slowly nurses baby birds back to health, it sure does sound like something your grandma would see in a theater at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday and insist that everyone she knows must watch. The thing is, though…as much as Sally Aitken’s film can seem like a parody of itself, a hippy-dippy ode to the natural world that teaches us something important about ourselves by learning about another species, led by someone who has devoted their lives to them, it is kind of magical to watch. Something about these tiny creatures and their benevolent caretaker is genuinely moving. Every human in the film feels it, too, making specific notes of how they felt something different while looking at the tiny, injured hummingbirds they bring to Terry Masear in the hopes of rescuing. Even if you go into the film skeptical, prepare to be won over. By the end, you’ll find yourself getting choked up over the little creatures as they struggle and fail, heal and succeed. Whatever magic they possess in real life, Aitken has perfectly captured on film.
Masear isn’t the most dynamic documentary subject – her low, almost monotone speaking voice barely rises above a whisper, and her demeanor is surprisingly business-like for someone who seemingly spends every waking hour caring for her injured avian children (she has no human children of her own). But this is, at least partly, a front she has had to put up to avoid the constant pain that would come from the many birds who don’t make it. Late in the film, we see her dare to hope for one particular bird in her care who seems to be trending in the right direction after a debilitating accident, only to have to bury them in the next scene.
In the film’s life-affirming final sequence, however, we get to see her unbridled joy as another bird, whom she had all but written off, flies out of her aviary and into the world. The glee on her face is contagious largely because of how reserved she is presented throughout. She has a wealth of knowledge and patience, and it’s easy to hail her as a saint for not only how she helps the birds but for how she deals with the wide variety of humans who bring the birds to her, most of whom are younger adults, some of whom genuinely believe that she can nurse any bird back to health, and others who carelessly make things even worse for the poor animals. Aitken’s smartest filmmaking choice is to present Masear as a flaws-and-all human being with hang-ups, quirks, and flaws. She emerges as a true altruist, doing good solely because she has the means, knowledge, and opportunity to do so, expecting nothing in return. Someone we all should strive to emulate in terms of kindness and generosity of spirit.
Aitken stumbles slightly in how she merges Masear’s personal history into the film’s overall narrative. Old home movies (or stock footage, as it’s difficult to tell) paint a picture of her childhood in the abstract at first, then we get snippets of backstory scattered throughout. Aitken attempts to use thematic links to transition between the present day and Masear’s history, which only occasionally works. Early on, these links are vague, and Masear hints at certain unsavory elements in her past without stating them outright, making it even worse. But as the film goes on, she speaks more eloquently, filling in some holes that make it easier to understand how/why she does what she does with these hummingbirds. She’s not infallible; at one point, she loses grip on one of the hummingbirds when transferring him to a new cage and has to wait for them to tire themselves out while praying they stay away from the ceiling vents. But she has a purpose and does everything she can to live that purpose every day.
If Aitken can’t quite make “Every Little Thing” completely satisfying as both biography and nature documentary, then she at least makes good on the latter part, with jaw-dropping footage of hummingbirds in flight you’d swear were computer-generated if not for the fact that we spend the majority of the film getting to know these particular hummingbirds. The slow-motion close-ups of birds in flight and flowers opening are captivatingly gorgeous, not just in terms of the level of pure color on display but also as windows into the world of hummingbird behavior; they’re downright revelatory. We haven’t seen hummingbirds this up-close and personal before, and watching their too-fast-for-the-naked-eye movements in glorious slow-motion, especially after watching them in real-time under Masear’s care, is hypnotic, strange, and awe-inspiring all at once.
Even if the film had nothing else going for it, that footage alone would be enough to recommend it. Thankfully, the film also has Terry Masear, a woman who has lived, loved, and lost and now spends her days caring for those who can’t care for themselves. Watching “Every Little Thing” isn’t exactly a life-changing experience, but it is a rejuvenating one; you leave it with a sense that the world is going to be alright thanks to people like Masear and with a new appreciation for some of the world’s smallest, most fascinating, magical creatures. And in the year 2025, that goes a long way.