That curious anomaly, the low budget movie, has added a hero to its ranks. Starring a little boy whose previous contact with the cinema was the second row of the neighborhood theatre, The Little Fugitive could easily have been nothing more than an elaborate home movie. But a trio of writer-directors have parlayed some crisp ideas with a flimsy script and come up with a very entertaining film.

Unlike J. D. Salinger's stories, The Little Fugitive deals with a child who is more usual than unique. In the title role, Richie Andruseu, a Brooklyn seven-year-old, believe that he has killed his twelve-year-old brother. To avoid the police, he escapes by subway to coney Island where the mechanics of the plot almost vanish and the delightful swagger and expressions of Andruseu emerge. AT first he saunters along the amusement park pavement in awe--youthfully oblivious to the crime he thinks he has committed. Subtly, the camera follows him through the unsympathetic crowds to the rides and refreshment counters. It catches his disappointment when his fast ball fails to topple a pyramid of milk bottles and his animation when riding on a merry-go-round. Occasionally he slips behind a lamp post to evade the glance of a policeman, but these are unimportant interruptions to his wonderment.

Aware of the pitfalls of this essentially episodic plot, the directors have skillfully developed a pervasive feeling of loneliness in Joey after the allure of the Midway wears off. It is a loneliness imposed by the preoccupied bathers on Coney Island's beach and the silhouetted couple who kiss beneath the boardwalk. Only a pony-ride attendant provides any understanding, and partly because of this new friendship and partly because of a fetish for horses, Joey becomes a familiar figure around the concession. It is this attendant who aids Joey's brother in finding the boy and returning him to his Brooklyn apartment.

As an acting job, The Little Fugitive was no great chore for Richie Andruseu. Where Brandon De Wilde was excellent for his portrayal of a frontier boy in Shane, Richie Andruseu excells at simply being himself. His older brother played by Ricky Brewster is more conscious of the presence of the camera and is accordingly less convincing. The credit for the film's achievement, however, should go to Ray Ashley, Morris Engel, and Ruth Olken who though up the situations and told Richie what to do.

The photographic touches employed throughout the movie provide pleasant diversions from the frequently trite techniques used by Hollywood. Skillful treatment of the beach scenes and the close-ups of Andruseu framed by amusement park fixtures add much to the film. In all, The Little Fugitive is a fine movie about a child-seldom sentimental and often humorous. It deserves the places it has been winning on 1953's "Ten Best" lists.