: Greg Kinnear, Toni Collette, Alan Arkin, Abigail Breslin, Paul Dano, Steve Carrell
: Jonathan Dayton & Valerie Faris
: Marc Turtlet, Aub David T, Friendly Peter Saraf, Albert Berger & Ron Yer Xa
There are films that take your breath away. Then there are those that give breath back to your forever-breathless life.
“Little Miss Sunshine” is one of the most wonderful slice-of-life stories ever since man invented the motion-picture camera and the baggage ofhumanitarian activities that have followed thereafter on big screen.
In league with “Life Is Beautiful” and “A Beautiful Mind”, “Little Miss Sunshine” is a road movie that takes a largely uncovered path.
The malfunctional family consisting of stressed parents, a boy (Paul Dano), who doesn’t speak because he has nothing to say, a little girl (Abigail Breslin), who dreams of winning a beauty contest, a gay uncle (Steve Carell), who lately attempted suicide but instead lost a limb, and a raunchy grandpa (Alan Arkin).
The cauldron of family values simmers and slithers across a skyline that takes all of them on a journey, which we aren’t likely to forget easily.
The thing about “Little Miss Sunshine” is its strangely authentic tone of narration. You can’t pinpoint what makes the characters so endearing in their infinite resonance of realism.
No one tries to be natural or anything else for that matter. These are simple, normal, middleclass people trapped in bizarre situations.
Frenetic in pace, and yet strangely quiet at heart, the film digs out the dignity of the working class from the deepest recesses of the narrative’s serious yet comic soul.
The performances are extraordinarily rich in saying things that we don’t need to be told. The whole journey by a rickety mini-van to the beauty contest, where the little girl does her saucy number, is undertaken in the spirit of utter unselfconsciousness.
There might have been films with a better grip over the technical aspects of cinema. But none that goes straight for the heart and fills us with natural sunshine.