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So we watch them go, like moths to various flames.

Brad (Patrick Wilson) strikes up a relationship with Sarah

And it gets worse. Just out of jail, a pedophile named Ronnie (Jackie Earle Haley) has moved into the neighborhood to live with his overly affectionate mother (Phyllis Somerville). The community is appropriately concerned, and so are we.

If Field was trying to lampoon traditional family life, the way American Beauty did, he might have made Ronnie more sympathetic, in order to paint the families who fear him as devils and hypocritical conservatives. But Field's too smart for that. He shows us that Ronnie's disease really is dangerous and perverse. Clearly, Ronnie's mother is wrong in assuming that all he needs is a girlfriend his own age. And when he slips into a community swimming pool full of vulnerable children, his predatory nature is accentuated by his black scuba gear. It's as scary as a scene from Jaws.

And yet, Field asks us, is anyone willing to offer him some grace, compassion, and help?

For some, healthy concern quickly swells into explosive paranoia and rage. Brad's friend Larry (Noah Emmerich), a retired policeman and head of the Committee for Concerned Parents, is so upset about Ronnie's sins that he declares a sort of "war on terror" against the pedophile. He attacks him at his home, vandalizes his property, and stands on the lawn delivering hysterical late-night tirades. Field doesn't hesitate to draw a stark comparison between this and certain present-day global dramas—the destructive effects of fear mongering, and the way in which rash retaliation makes a bad situation worse. Are we any safer for having carried swift, drastic, poorly coordinated violence into someone else's "yard" in the name of "homeland security"?

Ultimately, it becomes clear that the children in this town are endangered not only by the pedophile, but by the secret sins and fears of their childish parents.

Unfortunately, in his courage to expose the ugliness of sin with stark honesty, Field oversteps the bounds of propriety. He was smart to portray Brad and Sarah's sexual escapes as urgent, desperate grabs for happiness. But in doing so, he asks them to expose too much. For many this will be shocking, disrupting the flow of the film. For others, it will offer fuel for the fires of their own destructive fantasies.

That's a serious flaw in what is otherwise a profound work of art. Few films have been more truthful in showing us how our "secret sins"—those indiscretions we try to rationalize—are like weeds that take root, spread, and shatter our foundations. Little Children is sure to remind viewers of other discomforting studies of infidelity, including The Ice Storm, We Don't Live Here Anymore, and The Squid and the Whale. And thankfully, it avoids the mistakes of American Beauty, which took its characters' reckless indulgence too lightly, and let them off the hook by damning a convenient scapegoat: a villainous conservative family man.

Noah Emmerich as Larry Moon, delivering his tirades

But Field is after something far more ambitious and profound than any of those films. He wants us to remember that all have sinned, and that we thus should treat one another with compassion and grace. Sometimes, Christians are the people who need to hear this the most. In our zeal for righteousness, we can easily become cruel and condemning reactionaries, forgetting Christ's demonstration of compassion and gentleness toward the depraved and the desperate.

This idea is captured beautifully in a scene during which Sarah explains her sympathy for the promiscuous title character of Madame Bovary. "It's the hunger," she says, "the hunger for an alternative and the refusal to accept a life of unhappiness." Sarah acknowledges that Madame Bovary did not make the best choices, but she confesses her understanding that the sin stems from needs that are not being met, from an absence of love.

The film is exceptional not only in its truth, but in its craftsmanship. It's a showcase of superb acting. Patrick Wilson makes a strong leading man. Jackie Earle Haley's turn as the pedophile is incredibly complex, and he's likely to earn an Oscar nomination. So is Kate Winslet, who develops Sarah into a character so three-dimensional and real that, by comparison, some of the other characters—Richard, Larry, and the judgmental mothers—seem simplistic and even cartoonish.

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