Editor’s note: In this series, RedFence Sr. Writer and Filmmaker James Roland takes a tour of this year’s five Academy Award Nominations for Best Picture. His reactions will be posted on Mondays and Wednesdays leading up to the awards ceremony, Feb. 25.
Little Miss Sunshine
by James Roland
Very few filmmakers can mix classic farce with unsettling black humor, add in a fine touch of subtle family drama, and come up with an Oscar-worthy film. So, I guess it makes sense that Little Miss Sunshine was made by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, who made their joined career by directing commercials and music videos instead of movies.
These talents are clear from the first few minutes of the film, during a beautiful montage scene – montage in the Eisenstein sense, not the sports movie sense – that introduces the six main characters. The use of music in the film has the finesse of a music video director, editing images to sound that matches on an emotional level.
The film also contains a commercial director’s eye for details. From the leftover 70s glassware to the colors and costumes, each element is selected as the perfect choice for that specific moment or character.
Frank is introduced as a suicidal gay professor. He dresses in flowing white garments, slightly baggy pants and shirt (yes, he even has sandals and a beard to complete the Christ motif). He shares most of his scenes with Dwayne: bedraggled, jet-black hair with black pants, black bracelets, and black shirt. An intellectual saint and a dark, troubled follower of Nietzsche, they are the outside philosophers who provide a commentary and proper perspective to the chaotic family trip.
Richard and Sheryl, the high-strung parents and leaders of the group, dress in fertile tones; Sheryl mainly in green, Richard tending towards faded maroons and blues. Richard’s too-small khaki pants and cell phone (complete with belt holster) are a nice touch, while Sheryl tends towards flower print skirts and thin slip-on shoes that reveal her desire to break out of the routine.
The third pairing is Grandpa and Olive. Grandpa decks himself out in vests and old-guy Hawaiian print shirts. He spends his time coaching Olive through her beauty pageant routine and snorting heroin from a meticulously groomed drug kit. Although the group hardly realizes it, Olive is the light and driving force of the family. From her multi-colored garments that seem to have thrown themselves on to her body from three different decades, to her insistent innocence and optimism, she holds the family together through their bickering and trials.
Amidst a suicide attempt and her father’s failing business venture, Olive receives news that she has qualified for the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant in Long Beach, Florida. The family bundles up their luggage and conflicting personalities, climbs into a bright yellow Volkswagen van, and begins their hilarious road trip, complete with wrong turns, break-downs, death, pornography, and a speeding car chase.
It’s just about impossible to classify Little Miss Sunshine in a genre. On one hand, it is a farce. Each character would fit nicely into a Moliere play: the gay uncle, the dirty old man, the pudgy awkward girl, the angst-ridden adolescent, the conservative and restrictive father.
Early in the film, the Hoovers sit for a family meal and the character dynamics are quickly defined: sharp wit and intellect are set against faith and ignorance. Innocence is set against despair. Characters weave in and out from the dinner table, moving from the basement to the kitchen, living room, and back again. The blocking is a subtle touch, but still brilliant, drawing to mind a theater stage or the “in one door and out the other” qualities of Charlie Chaplin movies.
The film is also a family drama. Despite the physical comedy and frantic nature of most of the action, the real tension comes through personal relations. Frank refuses to be happy, choosing instead to wallow in the aftermath of his failed suicide attempt. Richard obsesses over his family business. Grandpa snorts drugs in an attempt to forget his beloved nursing home.
Other Best Picture nominations carry weighty political tones and social commentary. Little Miss Sunshine appears light and quirky, but it has more hope and strength — sunshine in every shadow and angle, every montage and monologue — than the heavy-handed speeches Babel and Letters from Iwo Jima. It is easily the best pic for Best Pic, rivaled only by The Queen, and could easily carry the title of Classic into the next decade.
