Whether It Will Last...

My place of employment (where I am a copywriter; I'm actually being paid to write which astounds me) normally blocks Blogger through their firewall, but for whatever reason, I'm able to sign in during writing hours for the first time in months. No guarantee it will last, so I'll use this time for an update.

Biggest personal update: my wife and I welcomed our first child on October 1, 2007. He's beautiful and it's been utterly exhausting. There's no way to properly describe how tired one gets with a newborn, but I found I could function for 36 hours straight. Granted, I was irritable, exhausted, and insane but I was functional at a basic level. Luckily, the little guy is really good-looking and has a terrific personality. Other updates: the Factory Theater rolls on. Dirty Diamonds was a critical and commercial success. It was part of the Best of 2007 in the Chicago Tribune, selected as a Metromix pick, and received great attention from audiences and critics. Timeout also gave Siskel and Ebert a nice write-up alongside some history of the Factory. I'm very proud to be in the ensemble of such a fine company.

Having a newborn in the family has completely erased any semblance of my previous existence, but I guess that's sort of supposed to happen. He was a long and painful time coming, and adusting to him along with keeping other stuff in order takes a lot of time. Still, I try to keep abreast of writing, theater, and movies, but all of that has slipped back a bit. Best movie I can recommend now is Juno, but I haven't seen many, so there may be some good movies I'm missing. Writing-wise, Pulp Friday is being developed into a play, and Clarity in Amsterdam was never published but a few things can certainly be fixed within it.

Hopefully, there will be more entries here soon. What say you, firewall?

Coming to the Factory...

The next production from the Factory Theater (my happy place of residence as Ensemble): a gritty bit of crime, trickery, and a hidden stash of loot. Sin in Vegas, guns in faces, and a femme fatale looking aces (or is it spades?) Oh, and I will be bartending Saturday for the benefit performance. Care to wager I pour you the best damn drink ever?

Here's a show teaser:



$30 bucks for a soon to be classic show, open bar, kick ass tunes, and partying with the one and only Factory Theater???

COME ON!

Further information on the Factory Theater

100th Post

After a year and a half (and some REEEEEALLLY long gaps between writing), I've finally achieved my 100th post to this blog. Sadly, my motivation for writing this post comes from the end of an era. I was a (part-time) contributing writer to Like You Really Care and a long-time fan of the site. It was a healthy combination of political awareness, pop culture commentary, self-deprecating humor, silly fun, and a writing community. I was honored to be a contributor, and I'm sorry to say my contributions to that site fell sharply over the past year due to (among other things) my company firewall's blocking of Blogger and my own issues. Hell, I've barely contributed to this site for a while. With that said, I'm very sorry to see such a good blog go away. Arlo blogged long before blogging became as mainstream as it is today. Still, I'm inspired by Arlo's openness to change; it is good to move on to other things and I wish Arlo and the other contributors the best of success. Change has always made me jumpy, especially when unexpected, but Arlo is right that there are new things to be done now with online writing forums. Arlo's previous work and proactivity to start anew inspires me to finally take the plunge of building my own web domain; I have ideas and plenty of material, but I've never taken the time to register and write the HTML to make my own site. I think that LYRC gave me the feeling that I'd always have a public forum with other writers to work in, and that feeling, along with addressing my other priorities, made me complacent. Today, I took the first few steps to registering a domain and I am gathering material to put there once it's set up. I need a company firewall-proof domain in which to write, and Blogger ain't it. So thanks to Arlo for me letting play for a bit and thanks for Like You Really Care; it was very good while it lasted. Finally, thanks for getting me up. I've got tremendous changes coming momentarily in my own life, and not just in online writing. I plan on making a better online forum a significant part of those changes. And I hope people will come out to play.

Crazy Good Time Peace of Mind

Holy cow, what a month. I've wanted to post more about the extraordinarily good time of Roger Ebert coming to see the Factory Theater (of which I am now a proud Ensemble member) and Siskel and Ebert Save Chicago. I'm so glad he came to see our little show and enjoyed himself. It's been a great run which will sadly end next week. Happily, though, we've added two extra shows on Sunday the 29th. Here's a little background and here's just a little more background behind the show. The Factory Theater is a damn fine place to call home, and credit an outstanding cast, whipcrack direction, indisputably exceptional stage managing, and a slickly smart playwriting mind as major components of the latest, greatest success. It's fair to say I love being a part. Tonight, we were graced by the Siskel family and some other terrific people who hopefully enjoyed our playful and sweetly vulgar show. Thanks all.

Would that my new job's firewall did not block Blogger or I'd be posting my gushing like a fiend. As it is, I'll put up my giddies whenever I can. I'll have to find means of coping with show withdrawl a week from now. It's painful to let a good thing go; I get sad and weepy throwing out old notebooks from classes I took 15 years ago. Memory is precious to me. I know it's abstract, but I remember many things physically, and I never feel I'm holding tight enough to the good stuff. That's the difficult part of closing a show since there's not many tactile reminders of the laughs, sweat, and work that's gone into months of work and good times. Being in a show like Siskel & Ebert Save Chicago (and doing theater in general) is a bit like having a security blanket; I value it so highly but I know it's something I have to give up eventually and move on. I'm very glad to be in the Factory Theater family because I know there will be more good times to come. Plus, I may just have access to video files of past shows so I can relive the magic. Still, nothing will replace running back and forth between scenes from backstage to the front of the house, sweating my guts off, working a scene or watching the Roller Girls, Socombie minions or shtickingly accurate portrayals of local media celebrities work their magic while we and the audience happily laugh in the fun. Memory scrapbook moments. I wish I had these comforting peaces of mind on paper protected by plastic, but quoting lines to myself and snickering aloud in public (not so silently) will just have to do. Thumbs up.

Holy Shit

Tonight, for the Factory Theater's opening of Siskel and Ebert Save Chicago, Roger Ebert himself was in the audience. He apparently gave it a thumbs up and appeared to enjoy himself. Wow. That's so cool. Especially after all the other good buzz the show's been getting. I'll write more on this later. I have to go to sleep. Thanks, Roger!

What About Today?

Slightly improved, although prospects for further cantankerousness remains high.

Still Using That Feature For My Own Site

Current mood: still pretty damn grouchy.

I Don't Need MySpace to Use This Feature

Current mood: sucks.

i'M NOW USiNG a mAC 4 mY POSTS...

...and it's been a while since I've used a Mac for anything. It's like re-learning to drive stick shift. I'm getting the feel for the wheels and it's starting to be smooth. I will never, ever buy that friggin iPhone because I'll never be able to afford it, but I'll bet it's some of the finest shit ever. I wish I had the time and money to actually test all the Apple and Mac whores who go out of their way to point out their tool's superiority in my own life instead of my work life. I'm not saying the Jobs-Zombies are wrong (blah,blah,blah Bill Gates got really lucky that Xerox allowed him to have Windows and it always has its problems, etc. I know. I've been a PC technician for years, so I know) but now I can see a little better for myself. Any and all hints/shortcuts/Easter Eggs/tools/quirks about Macs are now welcome. So let me know.

UPDATE: Never mind. Me and my damned, stupid belief in the words "long-term" actually matching with "assignment" when I'm told so.

Coming Soon...

From the Factory Theater, Siskel and Ebert Save Chicago. What if there were no more movies? What if secret shadowy agencies were trying to turn Chicago into a bland, one-dimensional entertainment black hole? What if there had to be serious laughs and ass-kicking fights to prevent all this? Go see this show and by God, you'll find out. I'm mostly playing parts associated with the shadowy agencies...



BONUS! There will be a ten minute serial series to open each of these shows working in three parts throughout the run. I'm lucky because I'm a fan of playing maniacal villains and the serial series format; this show allows me to do BOTH! Don't miss it.

The New Season of Anxiety at 24 Season's End

I finally saw the 24 season finale. As seen in a previous post, my weeks usually start with Anxiety on Monday (yes, I know today’s Tuesday, but same rules apply no matter when the week starts), for which I have several balms. One of the most effective anxiety treatments I have is Jack Bauer. When my own everyday worries give me jitter-frenzy, either when I first wake up or during the midnight insomnia, I take comfort that I don’t have to make a world-changing decision every 50 minutes, I don’t have to execute anybody, and I haven’t spent two years in a Chinese prison. Somehow, my real-life worries take on smaller significance and I’m comforted. Jack Bauer’s world is violent, torture-filled, grief stricken, and so forth, but it is simple in terms of decision making. With his gravelly flair, Jack Bauer says give me what I want or I will maim/torture/kill you. I wish I had that kind of simplicity when it came to my own decision making, even if it is a little too absolute. The soothing, simple, completely irrational and overblown violence of one guy protecting the country from all threats is astonishingly oversimplified and unrealistic for dealing with everyday life, not to mention foreign policy. I just like the thought of someone, even an unreal someone, roving around just outside my complicated little world, ready to cut through everything with a snarl and sharp phrase, knowing what’s right and ready to kick whatever ass gets in the way. Real life is complicated, fantasy life is simple. Jack Bauer provides that nice slice of simplicity I need in a complicated, anxiety-filled life.

But not so fast. Without ruining anything for anyone who hasn’t seen the season, I can safely say that the latest season finale is much quieter than previous ones. Whereas most previous seasons ended with nail biting cliffhangers, this season ends in non-violent fashion with a long silence. No going out with a bang this time, just a hush. My initial reaction was anti-climactic disappointment. Where’s the huge crisis that’s going to lure me in for next season? Why should keep watching if I don’t know what’s coming? Gimme my splashy ending! But on second thoughts, I think this muted ending is even more terrifying than the usual exploding sendoff. Again, without giving too much away, Jack Bauer is left with nothing to fight and nowhere to go. There’s a sense of being at a crossroads of uncertainty, instead of the comforting assurance of immediate action. There’s no big, bad crisis looming. Everything’s smooth in the 24-Reality USA now, despite all the nuking, gassing, shooting, killing, and exploding that’s happened on US soil the past day. It’s as if Jack Bauer might have to deal with regular everyday choices now instead of fighting off evil hordes of terrorists. Direct and simple just became complicated and unsure.

The constant uncertainty of the everyday world keeps me up late and wakes me up early with the kind of fear that I normally reserve for a good horror movie or high altitude plunge. The thought of Jack Bauer dealing with the everyday world is something completely outside my comfort zone. Dispatching of obviously evil terrorists is well within his means, but the everyday world is beyond anyone’s control. I don’t want complicated decisions infringing on my easily digested action-packed soothing reality of Bauer. But on third thoughts, I wonder if this isn’t a smart move from the producers of 24. Taking a character outside a comfort zone can create growth, as long as care is taken to avoid proverbial shark-jumping. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll move on to my other anxiety balms. I just hope there’s a “DAMMIT!” and a “SHUT UP! (sticks gun in thug’s face) Now you listen to me…” coming next season. Where would I be without at least some comforting certainties like these?

Successful Followup

Shaun of the Dead is easily the best horror-comedy since Saturday the 14th. I don’t count Creepshow or Tales from the Crypt because they are horror narratives that occasionally delve into comedy. Shaun of the Dead holds a special and unique place in movies for me because of its successful genre-crossover. It is definitely a horror movie, but it is also very funny. The plot is familiar; zombies destroy civilization while a few ragged survivors fight for their lives. The first big laughs come from the blissful obliviousness of the main characters as their world crumbles around them. The laughs continue as the well-directed cast of strong actors encounter and escape zombie peril while London crashes. Writer/star Simon Pegg, writer/director Edgar Wright, and co-star Nick Frost created a gem. Naturally, it’s exciting to see a reunion of these same principal minds (along with some of the Dead cast) to take on a new genre through a comedic lens. Hot Fuzz opened last weekend and I was there to see it.

It’s fun. Lots of fun. There’s much of the same successful formula. The comedy comes from good use of old jokes and jollying with the police-action movie genre. Yet Hot Fuzz never becomes straight parody along the lines of Airplane, Hot Shots, or The Naked Gun. As with Shaun of the Dead, Pegg and Wright respect their genre while playing around. There’s loud and impressive gun battles, splattery murders, and all-around good combat. There’s also an intriguing, if not overly complex murder-mystery plot. Simply put, Pegg (a hard-case London cop forcefully re-assigned to the rural country) must find out why so many back-woods Brits in a small, peaceful village are being suspiciously bumped off. Frost plays a bumbling member of local law-enforcement and Jim Broadbent (an accomplished actor in his own right) plays the forcefully docile local Chief of Police. The deaths are obviously murders, but the townsfolk are content to write everything off as quaint accidents. Pegg spends a large portion of the movie trying to convince the small-town yokels and himself that he’s not imagining everything.

This brings me to my one major complaint; the movie is about 10 minutes too long. There isn’t one scene or character or plot that needs to be chopped. Rather, a few small parts could be pared off throughout. There’s maybe a few too many minutes of overly simple-minded townsfolk, a couple of trim-able scenes of nearly catching the murderer again, and a bumbling moment or two to remove. This is not a crippling fault, but a slightly shorter running time would have helped. Something that works so well shouldn't be overdone. At least it's a good movie that's a little long. Comparing this movie to another consumable would be to say that it's more akin to eating too much good food rather than a good meal gone bad.

Having addressed an unexpected fault, here’s a pleasant surprise. Timothy Dalton is really good. He plays the clearly and savoringly evil big businessman taking advantage of the small town folk. In addition, he always shows up at crime scenes having made obviously incriminating remarks just before murders occur: “He’ll be in little bits tomorrow” and “I’d love to crack your skull open” are two choice examples. Dalton takes to his part with relish and he’s enjoyable to watch. Nice to see a less successful ex-Bond make good. The addled members of the local SWAT team and the hick townspeople make up an excellent ensemble. The story works, the movie flows well, and great genre-bending is in full effect. Pegg and Wright also take the time to develop their characters and create a sense of conflict and development for a larger story among the comedy, blood, and bullets. Pegg’s and Frost’s characters both have personal issues to solve, and the movie takes several turns that make the mystery and action more complex. The movie works really well in many ways, and I’m glad to say that the smart-minded folk behind Shaun of the Dead did themselves good again. I hope the movie gets wide release and this creative team gets it well-deserved due so that we can see more of their work.

On The Recent Terrible Event...

My condolences to the students, faculty, friends and family of the dead and wounded at Virginia Tech. As a college teacher, even part-time & unemployed as I am, I feel for the horror that so many experienced on April 16 on the Virginia Tech campus. A terrible tragedy. Not much more can be said at this point, but I do have a few points about the reactions to this tragedy on the other blog I write for, in case anyone is interested. Regardless, my sympathies to those experiencing terrible pain and loss from this event.

Slathering on the Corporate Cheese

My latest assignment to address bill paying involves looking at bright, fresh print ads for a major media conglomerate. I'm doing the same thing as I do in English class; look for grammar and spelling errors in composition as well as non-sensical layout. When I started this assignment, there was talk of some copywriting as well as working with new desktop publishing software. Thus far, it's been all error checking and layout repair with one notable exception.

This mega-powerful conglomerate is taking a page straight out of "The Dundies" episode of The Office by creating a ceremony with an Academy Awards theme. This ceremony presents awards to employees who promote diversity in the workplace. Rewarding employees by giving them a ceremony like they're movie stars is a nice, if derivative idea that should please many people. It's enjoyable to watch the creation of the show's program because I get to see some multimedia software at work (a part of modern technology I'm slowly catching up to) and I get to watch the assembly of the corporate award show veneer. The online and print program has appropriate glitz and glam to it and I was allowed to make one contribution beyond correcting horrendous spelling and inarticulate prose. The copywriter needed a small bit for the program and she asked me for my thoughts.

"I need a quote here and I'm not sure what to do," the copywriter said with a nervous fidget (the proof was due in an hour and printing a 50+ page Mac document with picture files takes at least an hour).

We needed this quote for space filler between two different sections of the awards. Other quotes sprinkled in the program involved standard congratulatory corporate rhetoric such as, "This team rolled up its sleeves," "His work pushed this account over the top," "She catapulted the project," etc. Since the filler space transitions between the individual awards and the group awards, I immediately thought of the needs of the many outweighing the needs of few, and tried to find a comparable catchphrase. With that in mind, I said, "We should have something really deep and cheesy and silly like..."

Pause. Then I finished my thought.

"The power of one adds to the powers of many."

The copywriter gasped with a smile on her face. "They'll eat that right UP!" she said and quickly filled the program space with my cheese; very likely the worst phrase I've ever composed, yet a phrase that seemed to fit so well.

My next thought pictured my phrase on the bottom of a huge wall poster showing a sweeping overhead shot of a tiny human rock climber, little fists raised in triumph, perched atop the highest mountaintop in a glorious range of forests and high granite peaks. Miserable corporate workers look at this poster, read my phrase, and curse me unknowingly for making their working lives worse by shoving treacle triteness in their faces, reminding them to be happy in their daily drudgery. The point of these imaginings, of course, is that I've copywritten, packaged, and sold my cheese trite phrase for a ton of cash and am busy spending as much of it as I can.

However, I am like the people I've made to suffer in my imaginings: I'm the corporate worker who looks for breaks and reveries to occupy my thoughts during the necessary drudgery of corporate business. Still, for one split second, I can feel like I've contributed to something larger. It's likely that hundreds, if not thousands, of people will be reading this phrase during the awards show (I'm working with one of the BIG conglomerates) so my phrase, this tiny and horrible part of my writing, will have the largest audience ever given to one of my compositions.

So, all you diversity award winners and audience members, I apologize for dropping this awful clause in your lap. However, I'm glad that so many people will read one of my sentences.

Clarity in Amsterdam, Part Seven (Conclusion)

The final chapter from the revised version of travel writings from 2005.

If you're new this story, catch up by clicking on "PART ONE" below.

PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX

We all take the last couple of days trying to justify ourselves as cultured tourists. We go to the Rijksmuseum and the Anne Frank house. We travel to Belgium to witness beer being made in the last brewery that uses natural yeast in the air for fermentation. Every other brewery in the world imports its yeast. I learn that beer is actually yeast piss. It doesn’t bother me.

We see the brilliant works of Rembrandt, the glory of the 16th century treasures from the lost Dutch empire, the mashing of modern and medieval architecture in Brussels; we are very, very stoned when we see these and many other beautiful works of culture, art, and life.

Mystique is part of the lure of Amsterdam, just as mystique holds the power to secrets. Imagination gives more power than reality. I love Amsterdam, but I find that I don’t want to debauch myself as much as I thought I would because there isn’t as much mystique or wonder for vices that are readily available, even for drugs and sex (although I still remind myself that I would not feel this way had I been to Amsterdam when I was five years younger). It was as if every piece of candy that I ever wanted was put in front of me, but it was the allure and not the action that held the mystique.

Returning home is very hard. The trip was a protective cocoon of sorts, isolating me from all the problems I face, but I have to come out from behind the shield. I still don’t know how to like myself more. I don’t feel any additional strength or wisdom. There is no clear path for me, no enlightenment that I so desperately wanted and expected. But there is no sense of waste or loss. I’ve gained something, but it may take a long time (if ever) to notice any real effects.

I hope to return to Holland soon, now that I can find my way in Amsterdam. I’ve kept my city map. I’ll bring it with me when I return, but I won’t need to look at it so much. On my first day, when I was lost, I did promise to stay at a hotel near the first canal off Damrak. There is that and many other things I want to do on the return trip, the first being a stop in the coffee shop to watch European football. There, the singing will start anew, and for a little while, I will again know perfect unison.

A Welcome Prize

I'm pleased to report that my Little Miss Sunshine review won an online contest from m80 and I now have a sparkling new copy of Little Miss Sunshine (movie info) as a prize. Like my theater work, I don't expect to be compensated for writing, but I sure do appreciate any sort of pay when it does come. Ideally, of course, I'd be compensated commensurate to the time, sweat, blood, etc. I've put into the two crafts I love so dearly, but if I did either of these activities for the money, I'd have left them over ten years ago. So I will take a few seconds to bask in the appreciation of the moment.

'Kay. I'm done.

Regardless of contests or compensation, I firmly believe that Little Miss Sunshine was the best movie of the year last year. The Departed, Babel, The Devil Wears Prada were all fine movies, but did not fulfill as much as LMS did. I'll gladly post thoughts about those movies later to show their worth. I'm sure I'll write about Pan's Labyrinth and Children of Men as well, but in the realm of storytelling, meaningful comedic reflection, and ensemble acting, nothing's touching LMS for a long time, if ever.

More reviews to see:
Hot Fuzz
The Descent
Musings on M. Night Shyamalan

Clarity in Amsterdam, Part Six.

03/15/07 UPDATE: This piece was originally in five parts, but I've made changes. There will be one more post after this one to complete the revisions.

PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE

We take many walks throughout the city to sample the different coffee shops; on the third walk of the third day, I decide to try the hashish hot chocolate, dubbed “Little Slice of Heaven” by our group. The mixture goes down easily enough, but after fifteen minutes, even standing and walking is an adventure. As I repeatedly demand to know if everyone is getting as high as I am, we somehow decide it’s time to return to the hotel for the evening.

The closer we get to the hotel, the higher I go. We stop off for dinner just before the Luxer. Like the lousy American I am, I’m stoned out of mind and behaving like an ass. During the meal, I watch Edmond float above the table, and I decide I need to see some great football (meaning soccer in Yank-speak) while I’m in Europe.

I don’t remember getting into my hotel room, but I’m lying on one of two single beds in the room and the TV’s showing great football. Edmond is my babysitter. We’re watching Manchester United versus Arsenal. As with all European football games, the crowd sings different songs throughout the match. I say, “Ooooohhhhhh my God, how do they all know what to sing at the same time? The fans are all singing the same song at once! It’s so beautiful! How do they do that?”

Edmond smiles and says nothing.

I continue gushing. “Do they have a choreographer who tells them what to sing when?”

I have never seen something as spectacular as this football game nor heard music as beautiful as the fans that sing in unison this night. Every pass is extraordinary. The game is close and the crowd swells in anticipation at every goal possibility. All is thrilling. I never freak out.

Eventually, my bed stops spinning beneath me and I feel like I’ve come down and taken enough of Edmond’s time. I tell him that I’m fine and feel great and that it was good of him to sit with me for a bit. He needs to get out so he can get as stoned as I am.

After Edmond leaves, I take a shower to help me get down enough so that I can go downstairs to the bar, get drunk, and talk to Jeff the bartender. Jeff is American and a former professional basketball player who has lived in Amsterdam since 1982. He’s good for conversation and getting guests in the bar to talk together. Jeff is a comfort bartender.

As I shower, the lights in the bathroom occasionally go to a blinding brilliance, sometimes accompanied by a soft crackling sound like the bulbs are shivering. I think about everything that’s happened over the past three years, yet I feel no pain, no embarrassment, no hate, no anger, no sadness. Just a relaxed objectivity of looking at events as facts and not how they affect me. I think about how my wife and I are living together again, that we’re talking about our problems and fighting constructively instead just throwing venom at each other. I think of reasons to be scared and reasons to be hopeful. I marvel at how easily all the hoarded hate and grief has washed off.

I’m standing still in the shower with my arms crossed. I look down and see my shadow washing its hair. My shadow has long, thick hair that billows and swirls. I think of Beauty and the Beast, of transforming into something that’s horrible yet beautiful. A voice from somewhere says, “You really need to like yourself better.”

I spend a nice long night in the bar, drinking heavily and smoking frequently. Sometimes I have company, sometimes I’m alone. I don’t have a sense of contentment or reassurance, but I’m not really actively looking.

To be concluded...

UPDATE: THE CONCLUSION

Another Quarter in the Bag

My latest class are at an end except for the 700 pages of final papers I need to read. This was a good quarter in the land of Academia. Teaching three writing classes is difficult and tiring, but not the impossible task some would have you believe. Living on not knowing how you're paying rent and bills is an impossible task. However, it is also a task to be directly combatted. I loved teaching, I loved getting to meet and read more students, I loved practicing my teaching, and I've had interesting developments in work and pedagogy at my University (more on this later, especially if the strange political winds continue to blow, and even more especially if they continue to bring a smell I'm really not liking). My best friend has taken up the blogging torch to my great delight; he tells great stories and I'm looking forward to reading them. Spring is in the air, college basketball is in full fever pitch (sorry Mr. Hornby), and Chicago is the greatest city in the world to reside in during this time of year. Now if only I could put a few more quarters in my pocket.

I've watched it several times and it's still funny. What's with me?

There's good reasons why Your Moment of Zen is one of my favorite blogs. First, I know that weirdo blogger personally and he's good eye for good stuff as well a fine acting talent. Second, he somehow finds stuff like "Closer to Spock." I don't know why I find it so funny and why it's funny every time I watch it. It probably has to do with nerd deconstruction, which I absolutely love. See for yourself.

Little Miss Sunshine (My second review, semi-requested)

UPDATE: This post won an award. A small one, but still an award. DETAILS.

The Oscar race is heating up, and I have to push for Little Miss Sunshine. Why? Primarily because this could have been an awful movie. The script has very treacle content that could easily turn into emotionally overblown performances. Not that the writing is bad, but there is a high degree of sentimentality, requiring great skill of the directors and actors to avoid melodramatic pitfalls. Fortunately, the ensemble is blessed with gifted actors who can dance between the comedic and dramatic with enviable ease and directors who know how to showcase their actors.

This is the story of a family and the challenges to its unity. Make no mistake, this is a comedy (and an extremely funny one) but serious issues abound: family dissolution, suicide, lost love, bankruptcy, and exploitation. The joy of the movie for me was the continuing escape from the ever present threat of total family ruin. The family faces one crisis after another, yet as an audience, we're given the gift of invested detachment in the action as one thing after another goes wrong for the beautifully hapless family. We're given the ability to live that familiar crisis response trope of "one day we'll look back on this and laugh" from a safe distance. The action moves smoothly and the movie moves fluidly through its plot. The actors invest so much commitment and life to their characters that they're lovable even when life brings out the worst in them. We've known and faced the disappointments that the characters experience, and its refreshing to see their hilarious lack of a smooth, gracious response to life's problems. Family implosion under stress seen through honesty and humor is one of the many strengths of this movie.

The previously-mentioned strengths (sweet but not overly sentimental story, powerful cast, equal parts hilarity and gravity, smart directors) are enough to make this film an oscar-worthy jewel. However, the wonderfully funny satire of the Little Miss Sunshine Pageant is what catapults this movie to an elite place for me. The subtle commentary on perceptions of beauty and its disturbing influences is realized so well that I still hurt from laughing at it on my third viewing. This is a beautiful little movie of the highest quality. I hope it's rewarded as such.