Suicide, heroin, child beauty pageants: these are not typically the subjects of a “feel good” film, but, this is the perfect way to sum up Little Miss Sunshine. At first the title is ironic; the Hoover family’s youngest, the chubby Olive (Abigail Breslin), is no beauty queen, and her family is depressing. Her Nietzsche-obsessed teenage brother (Paul Dano) has taken a vow of silence for nine months running. Uncle Frank (Steve Carrell) is a suicidal, gay Proust scholar. Grandpa (Alan Arkin) is a potty mouth who was kicked out of his nursing home for snorting heroin. And Dad (Greg Kinnear) is a painfully inept self-help guru with all the family’s assets backing his nine steps to ban your inner loser.
The motley crew sets out in their VW bus for a cross-country road trip to take young Olive to the regional Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant. This should be the recipe for a typical comedy/indie film disaster, but the events that unfold are anything but a catastrophe. Little Miss Sunshine ultimately celebrates the Hoover family’s relationship, and the title becomes perfect.
Everything about the film ends up working in a similar way: it should be one thing but ends up something completely different, with farcical comedy punching through the most solemn moments and sadness piercing the outlandish. We see the family in a group hug, mourning a death, and we blink back tears while we hold our breath, desperately trying not to laugh at Olive’s offensively kitschy tiny pink bike shorts and massive red patent leather cowboy boots.
The comedy is slapstick, dirty and offensive yet still clever and unpredictable. This is made evident by the constant appearance of a porn magazine as the situation becomes more awkwardly humorous each time. Directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Feris, of music video fame (Smashing Pumpkins), keep energy continuously hiked to the max without once going overboard. We see crazed show directors and mothers airbrushing their JonBenets a golden tan, yet the portrayal of the beauty pageant remains satirical without becoming cynical.
The actors similarly take their characters to the highest intensity without going overboard. They manage the difficult task of keeping their characters real, even though each dangerously borders on the ridiculous. Their performances are exceptional across the board.
Toni Collette, who plays the mother, is in her best role since Muriel’s Wedding, and Alan Arkin was born to wear Grandpa’s leather garb. Greg Kinnear’s character is so close to a caricature of a motivational speaker it makes you grimace. It should be unbelievable and annoying, yet, no matter how much you hate him, you can’t help but cheer for his book deal. As the suicidal, academic uncle, Steve Carrell creates an engaging character that proves he is more than just a comedian. He and Paul Dano sound absurd enough to make you roll your eyes. Yet, the two characters deliver some of the most poignant moments in the film, even if Dano’s character must deliver his lines on a pad of paper.
Despite their excellence, it’s ultimately Olive that holds the family and film together, her charming sweetness giving the movie a real, authentic feel. Though not a particularly sage second grader, she is the hero of the film and carries it well. As Arkin tells her on the competition’s eve, “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I’m madly in love with you and it’s not because of your brains or your personality.”
And it’s true—she may not be a typical beauty queen, but we can’t take our eyes off her, nor any of the Hovers. As dysfunctional as they are, they love each other, and the audience leaves with smiles on their faces, loving them too.
