Little Miss Sunshine is an up-beat, modern comedy-drama film released at the beginning of 2006, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival, attracting incredible amounts of interest due to the simplicity and honesty with which it consumes some of the most problematic themes of the current era: the dysfunctional family issues and the rat-race that keeps pushing society towards the ultimate belief that only the winners can consider themselves worthy of the beauties of life. Featuring a dynamic and tastefully-written screenplay by first-time writer Michael Arndt (properly rewarded with an Academy Award) and a budget of only $ 8 million, this indie road-movie has the necessary ingredients for it to become a life-changing experience not only for the aficionados of the genre, but for anyone who is willing to empathize with the excellent cast and the brilliant directing couple, Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris.
The central plot revolves around a peculiar group of characters unsuccessfully trying to bond with each other, as members of a traditional family should, in Albuquerque, New Mexico; the father, Richard Hoover (Greg Kinnear) is a motivational speaker, desperately trying to apply his guiding principles and teachings to his personal life, whilst sustaining an improbable career. Sheryl (Toni Collete), the mother who uses all her energy and optimism to keep everyone together, welcomes her homosexual brother, Frank (Steve Carell), North America’s top Proust scholar, into their home after his failed attempt of suicide. Dwayne (Paul Dano), Sheryl’s son from a previous marriage, is a troubled, Nietzche-obsessed fifteen-year-old whose will to live is only fuelled by the prospect of joining the Air Force as a test pilot and takes a prolonged vow of silence. His step-sister, Olive (Abigail Breslin), probably one of the most innocent child characters in the late cinema, has just won a place at the “Little Miss Sunshine” beauty pageant in Redondo Beach, California, and her “coach” is none other than her controversial grandfather, Edwin (Alan Arkin), a World War II veteran, dealing with a heroin addiction and the shadow of his past youth.
Little Miss Sunshine presents the unpredictable journey that the Hoovers make in order for Olive to compete in her pageant, a mixture of comedy and tragedy during the 900 miles between their home and the place where, initially, no one but the daughter wants to go to. There are many highlights in the development of events, as the family embarks in their ’71 Volkswagen T2 microbus: Richard’s plan of marketing his nine-step programme for achieving success reaches a dead end, causing Sheryl to lose both her temper and her faith in the unity of the family. Each character loses something dear along the way: Frank reencounters the reason for his suicide attempt, his stolen sweetheart; Dwayne discovers that flying might prove to be impossible for him, as he finds out he is colour blind, Edwin exaggerates in his addiction, causing his death in an incredibly inopportune moment, and Olive is all forgotten about, that is until they arrive to the pageant: the contrast between her bespectacled, slightly overweight look and that of the other contestants, miniature Barbie dolls, is shocking, causing the other members of the family to try and discourage her from competing at all, out of fear that she will be laughed at. Yet nothing stands in her way, as Olive takes over the scene, presenting her talent of choice and dancing to the provocative moves taught by her grandfather, accompanied by Rick James’ “Superfreak”, causing an outrageous reaction amongst the jury and the parents present. The ending is extremely intense and cheerful, as the rest of the family joins Olive on stage, dancing and celebrating their differences and failures and regaining the value of family, as awkward as such a family may be. The Hoovers leave Redondo Beach after a lawful interdiction of ever entering Olive into a beauty pageant in the state of California and drive off into the sunset.
One of the outstanding things regarding Little Miss Sunshine is the way in which the characters are powerfully individualized, both in the screenplay and on screen, without losing the smallest amount of conflict: it is all about communication. The bits of dialogue are beautifully written and acted naturally in vivacious scenes, with breathtaking honesty and clinical precision; moreover, the situations pictured are nothing but the pure, unspoken truth of the widening generation gap, giving the viewer an amazing feeling of déjà-vu. Alan Arkin, winner of the Academy Award for his portrayal of Edwin, seems to be stealing every scene he appears in, with his delusional “carpe diem” attitude, despite the fact that the backbone of the movie is clearly formed by Kinnear and Collete. Steve Carell’s character, Frank, should have initially been played by Bill Murray, the producers doubting that Carell’s acting skills would be appropriate for such a sensitive movie, after he starred in the NBC series The Office. Nonetheless, Carell does not disappoint, he ultimately manages to upgrade the character by making Frank appear to be even more fragile than previously intended. Paul Dano does a brilliant acting job in a very difficult part, taking into account the fact that he only uses body language throughout most of the film. Finally, Abigail Breslin has been widely acclaimed by critics in their belief that she should have won an Academy Award at only eleven years of age. She beautifully manages to avoid the exaggeration of her part, a mistake that so many young child actors make, thinking that they are going to look cute on screen anyways. She delivers a clean set of reactions to all the tangled situations in the plot, proving her fresh acting maturity.
The gentle intertwining of tragedy and comedy is constant, and yet surprising, as the initiating journey takes its toll on every character, making them outgrow themselves, forcing them to rediscover their similarities and forge and cherish some already-fragile connections. With such a well-chosen cast, the direction is kept subtle and mostly static, except for the key moments in which rhythm is generated, such as the scene in which all the Hoovers try to steal the grandfather’s body from the local morgue. The image of the torn family standing in the VW is beautified by short, picturesque images of California in the sun. Between scenes, certain symbols appear, revealing the nature of the family’s quest; for instance, there is the broken car which can only be started with the entire family pushing the microbus into motion, suggesting their desire for something they can identify with, for a sense of unity and a place to belong to. The lighting effects make the movie live up to its name, creating an even greater difference between the character’s environment and their gloomy, almost miserable state of mind. The sound techniques that are used enable the viewer to take a closer look at the family, in scenes such as the one in which Richard leaves the motel and enters the VW, trying to start it. Although the image presents a wider angle of the motel and the parking lot, the audience can still hear Richard’s reactions of disappointment. There is a large number of inadequacies in the film’s technical accuracy (the post-production was finished only four days before the film’s premiere at Sundance); yet, perhaps following the pattern of Wes Anderson’s films, the images create a constant flow of action, increasing the audience’s focus on the conflicts.
The music score for Little Miss Sunshine seems simmered to perfection; composed and adapted by the American band DeVotchKa, the songs manage to intensify the film’s dynamics and the hilarious chain of events, without disturbing the viewer or stealing his attention from the picture itself.
Ultimately, Little Miss Sunshine is the story of every human being on the planet who has ever wished, even for a split second, to stop feeling alone. Judging by the constant laughter and the bitter taste the viewer accumulates throughout the 100-minute screening of the film, the debutant directors have managed to achieve something unique: they have mixed improbable patterns of behaviour, desperate household issues and almost absurd turns of events into something the experienced viewer can only refer to as “real life”. The overall feel of Little Miss Sunshine is that of transporting even the most insensitive spectator through a showcase of burlesque characters and curious happenings, until he finally reaches home, exhales and finds himself to be disappointed with the feeling of normality that surrounds him or her.
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