"Little Miss Sunshine" (2006), directed by Jonathan Davis and Valerie Faris, emerges as a cinematic gem that illuminates the complexities of chasing self-realization (as the late philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would put it) with a generous sprinkling of humor and warmth. Set against the backdrop of a cross-country journey, the movie introduces us to the Hoover family as they embark on an oftentimes heartbreaking road trip, interwoven with hilarious dialogue. When their young daughter Olive qualifies for the “Little Miss Sunshine” beauty pageant, the Hoovers find themselves confronting personal struggles, rivalries, and an assortment of offbeat encounters. With a remarkable ensemble cast and a heartfelt narrative, the film unveils the transformative power of unconditional love, resilience, and the pursuit of dreams against all odds. "Little Miss Sunshine" explores the intricacies of what it means to “win,” the word nestled at the very heart of the film's messaging, leaving audiences with a renewed appreciation for the unpredictable yet beautiful tapestry of life.
   The Hoover family is a dysfunctional unit composed of a bankrupt perfectionist father, a mother strives to maintain unity, a completely unfiltered grandfather, an uncle who recently survived from a suicide attempt, a philosophical older brother, and Olive, a young, little girl with big dreams. While the movie explores a variety of themes from family to societal expectations, an underlying theme throughout the movie is the subject of philosophy. Dwayne Hoover, Olive’s older brother, spends the entire movie grappling to understand the late philosopher Nietzsche’s wise advice that “those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” As viewers examining the lives of the Hoover family, it is easy to understand how Nietzche’s commentary resonates with the struggles of each character within their own respective worlds. Despite their incompatibility, the family is compelled to work together and understand each other’s troubles in order to support Olive’s journey to successfully participate in the pageant.
   Throughout the film, the director delineates a striking contrast between the atmosphere and the content, effectively illustrating the inherent contradictions of life. Each family member contradicts one another, allowing the film to encompass both somber and joyful perspectives on life. As each of them begin to self-actualize, they come to realize that out of the lot of them, Olive is the happiest through her optimistic view of the more solemn matters of life. Though this is most likely because Olive is a child who doesn’t fully comprehend all of the depressing events that occur on this one short road trip, her effect on the movie is undeniable. Olive’s pure bliss and wide smile transform the otherwise sad events of the movie into a positive ending, as her colorful view on life spreads to influence the other characters’ attitudes as well. Her efforts in becoming a pageant queen, despite not having the appearance of a pre-molded pageant doll, inspires the rest of her family (and the film’s audiences) to chase their own ambitions, emphasizing that the journey of it all may turn out to be more fulfilling than the success at its end.
    While “Little Miss Sunshine” isn’t directly about summer, Olive’s bright aura and cheery smile makes the audience feel as if it’s being enveloped in sunlight. The movie starts out with the uncle’s depression, the brother’s vow of silence, and the father’s business failure polarizing them all, however, these issues eventually unite them when they all refuse to see Olive give up on her dreams. “Little Miss Sunshine” manages to tackle not-so-cheerful themes of dysfunctionality, depression, and even death in a way that doesn’t ignore those issues, but perceives them through a lens of greater acceptance.

Shining light on sadness: “Little Miss Sunshine”

   As long as film has existed as an artistic medium, the written word has turned into visual spectacle. The first science-fiction film ever made, George Melies’ “A Trip to the Moon” (1902), was a loose adaptation of two Jules Verne novels. Since then, we’ve seen countless books and plays transferred from the page to the screen, fulfilling readers’ desires to see the stories they read come to life. For decades, the same debate has raged over these adaptations: To what extent can they be faithful to the originals? Should they be faithful to the originals? And can an adaptation not only match up to, but transcend the quality of the original?
   While literature is a written medium, film is an audio-visual one, and often, what can be portrayed in one cannot as easily or as convincingly be portrayed in the other. It’s in this transition from the literary form
to the cinematic that most adaptations struggle, and it must be acknowledged that some works are more difficult than others to bring to the screen. For example, novels like Virginia Woolf ’s “To the Lighthouse,” which is centered on a family’s visits to an island in Scotland in the 1900s, would make difficult adaptations, as they are set more so in the psyche of their characters than any physical setting.
   Words can depict things that images can’t, but they can also more easily obscure a reality than film can. When a book deals with a reality that is kept hidden or sugar-coated in its description, visually depicting it can often either ruin the mystery or rob the reader of the veil casted over what is depicted. A prime example is Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita.” In the novel, it is clear that all we read has been filtered through the romantic and charismatic writing of protagonist Humbert Humbert, and the reader has to read between the lines to picture the reality (an underage girl kidnapped and preyed upon) that Humbert sells to the reader. With film adaptations, however, this kind of sugarcoating is harder, because we are able to see what is happening. Kubrick, however, found his own way around this by using a similar strategy in the visual medium: filming, scoring, and writing the movie as if it were a romance, rather than the story of a pedophile. For instance, the film is shot with the glossy diffused lighting most romances and comedies would use on their leading actresses, and the film’s music is built around a catchy pop tune rather than any suggestion of suspense or unease.
   This brings us to the question: In cases where a story can be easily adapted, should a film be faithful to the original? When is it appropriate to take creative liberties? With some stories, sticking close to the books can be an asset: the Harry Potter films did so, and received critical acclaim, as did Francis Ford Coppola’s version of Mario Puzo’s “The Godfather.” Other books, however, are less suitable for close adaptations to the screen, either because of lack of action or public interest (the film adaptation of Penelope Fitzgerald’s “The Bookshop” has this problem). Many successful film adaptations take liberties, sometimes altering the entire core of the source material, and in some cases it is these films that transcend the originals. The French auteur Jean-Luc Godard would often take a story and strip it down to its barest skeleton of a plot, upon which he would add his own ideas, philosophical tangents, and experimentations (his 1965 film “Pierrot le Fou” retains only the idea of a man and woman running away together and betraying each other from the novel on which it is based). Most adaptations don’t go as far as Godard, but in the hands of a skilled director, a novel’s plot is often refashioned to fit the screen better: Steven Spielberg’s adaptations of “Jaws” and “Jurassic Park” are better known than the original novels (which many, indeed, are unaware of) because he knew how to refashion their plots into blockbusters without losing the thematic and emotional core of each story. In “Jurassic Park,” for example, character deaths are removed in the adaptation, and the ordering of scenes is changed to better fit the progression of an action-adventure movie.
   The decision to faithfully adapt a book or take creative liberties rests on the filmmakers’ discretion, and the success of an adaptation depends on their ability to capture the essence of the story in the new medium. Some books may be better suited for the screen than others, and some may require a different approach to achieve a successful adaptation. As long as the core of the story remains intact, filmmakers have the freedom to explore new possibilities and create something that stands on its own as a cinematic work of art. Ultimately, whether an adaptation transcends the original or falls short of expectations is up to the audience to decide, but what remains clear is that the act of adapting literature into film continues to be a fascinating and complex process that challenges artists to find new ways to bring stories to life.

From the page to the screen: adaptations

   Dani Franke ’23 was initially drawn to acting when she auditioned for her sixth grade middle school play, “The Christmas Carol,” with her friends. She loves acting in different genres and experimenting with her different artistic skillsets. Although theater can occasionally become stressful and competitive, being on stage with her friends encourages her to continue the activity. In the PHS rendition of the musical “Newsies,” Dani Franke played Katherine Plumber, the lead female role. Additionally, she loves singing, specifically jazz music, and is a part of the a cappella group Around 8. In the future, Franke hopes to continue her musical journey by displaying her talents on tour. 

What encouraged you to do musical theater?
I don’t think anything encouraged me to do it. I just really love it. I love being on stage and getting to sing and act with all my friends. I love to dance too, so that’s why I like musical theater, because you get to do all three at the same time.

How is your current experience in Around 8?
We’re like a family, and I love everyone in Around 8. It’s so much fun to take a song that we all want to sing, and we just sing it. We start picking up the lines, the basses start a baseline, we start a soprano melody, and someone starts singing a solo. The performances are really fun too, but really just getting to casually sing is great. 

What is the best performance you’ve put on, in your opinion?
I really loved my performance in “Curtains” last year. I was in the dance ensemble. I really love to dance, and since I didn’t have any singing parts, I got to focus on dancing. I really got to work on my acting and character analysis because I had to make up my own character and storyline, so it really helped me use that for the role I’m in right now. It was really fun, and I worked really hard to make sure I got everything perfect. 

What skills have you gained that have helped you perform effectively?
I’ve definitely improved vocally. I’m singing in jazz band, choir, and musical theater, and having all those different styles of music really helped my vocal ability excel. I’ve never really taken dance classes, but being in musicals has helped me become a better dancer. 

What do you do to calm your nerves before a show?
I like to go around and help everyone else make sure their hair and makeup is done and they’re all good. It really helps me almost forget about the fact that I’m about to go on stage. So, talking to people helps me forget about the fact that I’m going to go on stage in five minutes.
What do you love about the story of “Newsies”?
I like the idea of the underdog. The newsboys don’t have a lot, and even though the antagonist, Pulitzer, has all this power, the newsboys still come together and fight for what they believe in, which is really inspiring.

What has the process of making the musical come together been like?
It’s been so much fun, and it’s also been very stressful. First, we start blocking rehearsals, where we have scripts out with no set, which is a really long process. We also have dance rehearsals, where we learn the dances and go over them a million times. The hard thing is that sometimes we block scene one, and we learn the first dance. Then, we won’t do that for three weeks because we’re learning all the other stuff in the show, and then we just have to do it. So, it’s really hard because you want to practice what you’re working on, but you also need to make sure you practice what you already worked on. So it’s time consuming, but it’s so much fun. Once we have it all together, we get to add the set, the mics, and the costumes, and we’re able to see everything come together. Also, since we’re double cast, I get to watch the show half of the time, and seeing everything come to life is so rewarding after all that hard work.

Where do you see your career in ten years?
If I continue music, I’d hope to be with a band on a tour. If I do musical theater, I hope I get to be on a world tour of some show. If it’s not music, I’m probably going to end up going to school for psychology, social work, or possibly teaching. 

What advice would you give to anyone who wants to take part in a musical or go into singing?
Try it, 100 percent. Auditioning can be really nerve wracking, but the second it’s over, you realize it wasn’t so bad. Being a part of musical theater is so much fun, and singing is something that everyone should be able to enjoy. Don’t be afraid to join because it is such a loving and accepting community. Go with an open mind and be ready to learn.

Dani Franke ’23 discusses life behind the curtain

From February 10 to the 18, PHS Choir traveled throughout Portugal, showcasing their vocal talent in a series of concerts in Coimbra, Porto, and Lisbon. The tour was full of opportunities to explore Portuguese culture, from the unique musical traditions of the country to its art museum in Porto and the historic sites of Lisbon.
PHS Choir students were thrilled about the opportunities they had in Portugal. Many were excited for the chance to participate in Portugal’s food festivals, try the famous Portuguese pastéis de nata, and visit different restaurants and Portuguese monuments. 
“I am hoping to learn about the country and its people as well as the culture and significance. It’s definitely a once in a lifetime experience, and I know I will enjoy it,” said Emil Hansen ’23 prior to the trip. 
Members of the choir have built strong bonds and lasting friendships through their years of performing together, which makes the trip that much more special. It’s not just a group of high schoolers traveling, but a caring family and community that gets to experience and engage in a new culture together. 
   The PHS Choir performed mostly traditional Portuguese Fado music as well as more classical and Renaissance songs in Latin. Traditional American gospel music was also performed in an effort to showcase a traditional American genre. 
“Fado music…are often songs of longing and lament and are quite moving,” said PHS Choir member Adrian Serieyssol ’23. 
Some PHS Choir members were also excited to sing with two host choirs, one university choir, Universidade of Coimbra, and another high school choir, School Dona Filipa de Lencastre. With over three thousand miles between PHS and the Universidade of Coimbra choir, Choir members like Jamie Reynolds ’24 are delighted to form trans-continental connections with choir students from Portuguese schools.
“It’s  always exciting to meet new people,” said Reynolds. “The [occasion is] extra special because we barely know the host choirs and we’re putting on multiple concerts with them [... and] performing for large crowds with them.” 
   Though they didn’t know the choirs beforehand, students certainly had a whole lot of new friends by the end of the trip.
“They took us to lunch and we got to see where they usually hung out and what they did for fun! I’m still in touch with many of them and we all had so much fun together. The other people in the choirs were also so much fun to talk to and sing with because they were all so insanely talented,” said Raima Srivastava ’25.
Portugal is full of vibrant and diverse culture. The country has a rich cultural heritage, and many PHS Choir students were able to taste the Portuguese cuisine, including traditional dishes like bacalhau, a salt cod dish, and pastéis de nata, the famous Portuguese custard tarts. They sampled the fresh seafood and other regional specialties.
“My favorite place to go was this town called Aveiro and it was the cutest area with little shops and colorful buildings. It was on a river and it was beautiful,” Srivastava said. 
After eight days of exploring and making friends (old and new), the tour is definitely something unforgettable for PHS Choir.
“The trip was an experience I’ll never forget because there were so many things I enjoyed and I became friends with people I never thought I’d talk to,” Srivastava said. 

First International PHS Choir Performance Since the Pandemic

Vivre sa Vie
   In 1968, film critic Richard Roud wrote that the art of cinema rests on three paradoxes: visual versus narrative, fiction versus documentary, and reality versus abstraction. Perhaps no director has better reconciled these in their work than the late Jean-Luc Godard, whose films never sought to resolve these paradoxes, but to exploit and display them. Godard, a French director, has said that his films are, in essence, self-directed works of film criticism. Few films demonstrate Godard’s dualism of touching narrative and formalist experimentation better than 1962’s “Vivre Sa Vie”, a true chef d’oeuvre of French cinema. 
   Comprising twelve clearly demarcated “tableaux,” or episodes, “Vivre Sa Vie” tells the story of Nana (Anna Karina), a young parisienne who leaves her husband and slowly descends into prostitution to make ends meet. The episodic structure of “Vivre Sa Vie” allows the movie to avoid a tightly-woven, continuous dramatic plot. Instead, we are given brief glimpses into Nana’s world, each centered around one location or action. One rather straightforwardly depicts Nana’s first experience with a client, others show us a joyous dance through a billiard hall, a letter written over the course of eight minutes, a conversation with a philosopher about love and language (“the more one talks, the less words mean”). These chapters vary in mood, duration, and style, but what unites them is a sense of cold detachment that the world around Nana has towards her. The gray bareness of the city is so immediate that one feels as if Nana’s Paris would appear monochrome even if filmed in color. Her endurant liveliness seems nullified by her uncaring surroundings, manifested both in the blank dreariness of the film’s locations and the objectifying gaze of the film’s male characters. Although she encounters some moments of reciprocated humanity, Nana fails to make any impact on the world around her, almost as if she exists on a different, incompatible plane of existence.
   Godard uses his formalist experimentation to accentuate a similar condition present between the viewer and Nana. By playing with the form of the motion picture in certain moments (such as intentionally positioning key action beyond the edge of the frame, alternating between sound and silence, or positioning actors in unrealistic statue-like positions), Godard draws our attention to film’s status as an art. This not only allows for some truly brilliant effects in certain scenes (which I will leave for the viewer to experience), but makes us aware of the divide between ourselves and what is happening on screen. We are upset by the tragedy prevalent in Nana’s life, but there is nothing we can do about it. Just as Nana is isolated from her surroundings by her role as a sex object, we are made aware of her isolation from help from outside the screen. This makes the moments when Karina looks directly into the camera so striking: it almost seems as if she is pleading with us, but as Godard makes us aware by drawing our attention to the medium he is using, we are unable to help her or reach her. We can only gaze and empathize, as Nana herself does in the film when she sees “The Passion of Joan of Arc” (1928) at the cinema. She cries silently at the tragedy on screen, and evidently sees some of herself in Joan of Arc, but ultimately is powerless to do anything about it. That same situation is part of what makes “Vivre Sa Vie” so heartbreaking for me: the isolation Nana feels from both her fictional world, and our reality. Like many of Godard’s other films, this is once again a commentary on film itself and its power as an art.
   “Vivre Sa Vie” is a must watch for anyone wading into the vast ocean that is French cinema, a tragic and violent contrast of form and content that makes the film, for me, not just one of the most beautiful films of all time, but one of the greatest works of art I have ever experienced.

Another Round 
Danish director Thomas Vinterberg’s 2020 dramatic comedy “Another Round” follows a group of four high school teachers as they conduct an experiment where they live out their daily lives while keeping their blood alcohol level at 0.05. Each participant has a different living situation, and navigates the temptation, pleasure, and downfall that come with alcohol abuse in different ways. In doing so, the film provides a more nuanced depiction of alcoholism than has traditionally been presented in the media.
This is the film's biggest strength: it doesn’t spoonfeed the audience a black and white narrative. The lives of the central characters are boring and dull at the beginning, and are shattered and lonely by the end; they are left to decide whether the pleasure sandwiched between the two phases was worth the anguish of going too far. Where other movies about depression and alcoholism may feel like a PSA, “Another Round” approaches the subject of alcohol in a broader, social context, because ultimately the story isn’t about alcohol, it's about loneliness. One such example of Vinterberg’s nuanced approach to alcohol is the inclusion of a small subplot near the end of the movie. A student is extremely nervous for their final exam and if they don’t pass the exam they won’t be able to graduate. In order to calm the kids' nerves the teacher in charge of the exam, who is also part of the experiment, gives him some alcohol… and it works. What matters is not the substance, but the person, the experience, and the situation.
The setting of the high school is essential, as it juxtaposes the stagnant lives of the teachers with the far more active lives of their students, who have their whole lives ahead of them. This mundane setting also makes the film more relatable, and therefore more immersive. When the experiment is introduced, shifting the film from a melancholic drama to a comedy, you are more open to the idea because the film is finally allowing you to have fun, just as the characters are as well. While watching, you are tempted towards the vice of alcohol within the film, which in turn helps you understand how the characters are feeling. It masterfully shifts from tone to tone to create that ultimate mesmeric experience. 
What makes the film a technical marvel is how it imbues these tones with corresponding levels of energy with the score, cinematography and editing. It can be slow moving, with wide shots and infrequent cuts accompanied with gloomy jazz. But at other times it can be filled with handheld whip pans, fast cuts, and loud dance pop. Although these visual/audio changes may seem jarring on paper, the film does a great job of transitioning between its various emotional phases. One of these ways is by making the characters interact with the motifs, such as bodies of water, in a way corresponding to the energy of the scene; providing thematic consistency .
Mads Mikkelsen, who plays the lead role of Martin, is the highlight of the movie. He brings everything to the table with an absolutely spectacular and moving performance of an entirely unspectacular and ordinary man. He does more unleashed, dramatic scenes, but the powerful moments are those where you see his discontent and loneliness come out in small ways. The way he moves, talks, and even stands still evokes a sadness that is hard to describe… a man who doesn’t see better days ahead of him or looks forward to things, he just exists. Equal parts a broad social commentary and a touching personal story, “Another Round” is a Danish blessing to the drama genre.

Film reviews on Vivre Sa Vie and Another Round

Marina- You’ve Got Mail (1998):
	Taking place in a cozy bookstore during late autumn in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, “You’ve Got Mail” has the best setting for those moments when you feel like indulging in a jovial and comforting rom-com. This movie brings a refreshing spark of individuality to the worn-out enemies-to-lovers trope as there is an added twist: Kathleen (Meg Ryan) and Joe (Tom Hanks) may be enemies in real life, but online, an intimate relationship is blossoming. The involvement of the internet into the plot is a key ingredient in making “You’ve Got Mail” so one-of-a-kind. In the 1990s, online dating wasn’t nearly as normalized as it is nowadays, so the film was one of the first ever to add this aspect to the big screen, and now modern rom-coms have followed suit.
	With frequent co-stars Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks (previously seen together in both “Sleepless in Seattle” and “Joe Versus the Volcano”), the movie was set for success right from the start. Their chemistry was as impeccable as in the other films mentioned, if not more. Even in scenes when their lines consisted of spiteful bickering, their banter flowed perfectly, making you believe they were meant to be despite the hateful words flowing out their mouths. If I wasn’t fully convinced that they were my favorite 90s co-stars when I watched cult-classic “Sleepless in Seattle,” I most certainly was with “You’ve Got Mail.” Their relationship was as real as it gets in film. 
The relationship between both main characters in real life is quite standard for rom-coms: Kathleen is a small business bookstore owner, and Joe is part of the family behind Fox Books, a chain of huge bookstores. His multi-million dollar family company now poses a threat to Kathleen, as their new store is about to run her own out of business. However, online the two mutually decided that they’d keep information of their identities entirely secret in their email relationship under fake names “Shopgirl” and “NY152.” When they start crossing paths in real life, they hate each other, but a tangled web is slowly woven by their anonymity. Though Joe and Kathleen eventually do work past their career conflicts as their identities are gradually revealed to each other, it demonstrates that the situation that two people are in affects their perception of each other. When they were simply getting to know each other online, despite missing key details of the other’s identity, was when Joe and Kathleen really learned what the other was like personally. As career rivals, they simply let their situation as competitors blind them into assuming they knew everything about the other based on a few encounters. It really makes me wonder how many different peopleI could be closer to now, if it weren’t for the awkward positions that we have been given in each other's lives. 
“You’ve Got Mail” questions relationships in the most feel-good way possible, by demonstrating how a perfect pair can act so differently based on a different set of encounters, framing all this in the wonderful nostalgia of late-fall holidays. For bookworms and those who love fall aesthetics alike, “You’ve Got Mail” is sure to deliver!

Luca- Election (1999):
	In the political world, autumn doesn’t mean beautiful foliage, school beginning, or the end of summer, but rather election season. In my opinion, one of the greatest movies to focus on the time-honored tradition of American democracy isn’t a historical drama or political thriller, but rather unexpectedly, a 1999 teen comedy by the name of “Election.” Although the concept may seem simplistic on the surface, the plot of “Election” plot is layered with commentaries on not just democracy, but also morality and ethics (the distinction between which is made clear throughout the film).
	Directed by satirist Alexander Payne, “Election” follows a high school student-government election in the all-American city of Omaha, Nebraska. Specifically, the movie focuses on teacher Mr. McAllister (Matthew Broderick, bringing to mind a broken-down Ferris Bueller) who is horrified by Tracy Flick (Reese Witherspoon), the ruthlessly ambitious central figure of the film, running unopposed. McAllister persuades popular football player Paul Metzler (Chris Klein) to run against Tracy. Simultaneously, Paul’s sister Tammy (Jessica Campbell) runs on a platform to dismantle the student government.
	Although this may seem straightforward enough, Election becomes a much more complex film through its exploration of each character’s motivations and its examination of ethics. A prominent theme throughout the film is the extent to which sexual desire and frustration influences the titular election, most exhibited in the character of Mr. McAllister. The root of McAllister’s antipathy towards Tracy is ambiguous, and is one of the central mysteries of the film’s plot. Although he justifies it to himself as simply exasperation with her ambitiousness, McAllister is well aware of a sexual relationship between Tracy and a former colleague and friend of his. This sexual undercurrent also drives Tammy’s spiteful run for president, after her best friend and crush Lisa begins dating her brother following an unwanted romantic declaration by Tammy (“It's not like I'm a lesbian or anything. I'm attracted to the person. It's just that all the people I've been attracted to happen to be girls.”) Additionally, while Tracy runs to maintain the system and Tammy runs to dismantle it, Paul seems to be the only candidate running with a genuine interest in improving the school while in office, obviously making him the least based in reality.
	“Election” also poses the question of ethics versus morality throughout the film, both hypothetically and in real-life situations, such as Tracy’s relationship with McAllister’s colleague. As the motivations and actions of the main characters become more and more questionable, we as the audience ask ourselves the same questions about ethics and morality and apply them to the characters in question. 
	All in all, “Election” is a lovely and funny film whose hidden complexity is exemplified by Alexander Payne’s occasionally eccentric stylistic choices. As this complex web of interactions, hidden in the banal landscape of a Nebraskan high school, is revealed, it prompts thoughts about whether or not our democracy works, what prompts someone to break their morals, and what makes a good leader.



Foliage and film: two reviews of autumnal favorites, “You’ve Got Mail” and “Election”

The most wonderful thing about summer for me isn’t going to the beach, or the lack of homework, or even hanging out with friends. For me, the most wonderful thing about summer is the liberating feeling that grows in late June, when there’s not a cloud in the sky and you look forward only to the opportunity to doing absolutely nothing at all. “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” is that feeling filmed, edited, and released in theaters.
	Written and directed by teen movie legend John Hughes (the man behind “Pretty In Pink,” “The Breakfast Club,” and “Sixteen Candles”), “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” follows the namesake character (Matthew Broderick) as he skips high school for a day a month before graduation to sneak off to nearby Chicago with his friend Cameron (Alan Ruck), and girlfriend Sloane (Mia Sara). “How can I possibly be expected to handle school on a day like this?” Ferris asks us rhetorically as images of sunny skies and scattered clouds flash by, beckoning him away from his responsibilities. The rest of the movie is a dreamy joyride through the city in which Ferris and company, among other things, watch a baseball game, avoid parents, and, in a famous scene, hijack a German-American parade for a performance of “Twist and Shout.”
Ultimately, “Ferris Bueller” is less about its plot and more about a philosophy: a way to live life. Although Ferris may be the film’s protagonist and the one who constantly reaches through the fourth wall to lead us around his absurd world, many viewers of “Ferris Bueller” will feel more drawn to Cameron, whose pervasive caution and reluctance to flee his responsibilities clashes with Ferris’ unrestrained joie de vivre. Cameron is acutely aware that Ferris’ plan for his “day off” consists of absolutely nothing but living in the moment, as seen in long sequences of the trio looking at the city from the Sears Tower, sitting by a pool, or waiting in traffic.
Cameron’s worries are famously symbolized by the iconic Ferrari that Ferris takes from Cameron’s father’s garage. Throughout the film, Cameron is adamant that the car remain safe, lest his father realize the trio had taken it. Ferris, meanwhile, wants to live simply to live. Unlike Cameron, he and Sloane are unconcerned with consequences or duties, whereas Cameron is tied down by them. While watching the movie, we ask ourselves the same questions Cameron does: should he continue to look ahead, towards potential punishments, towards graduation, and towards the impending beginning of college? Or should he, like Ferris, live life for the simple pleasure of living it, enjoying only the present and making the most of every moment?
	Cameron’s internal dilemma may lie at the center of this film, but that doesn’t make it any less fun. John Hughes had a gift for crafting slightly absurd recreations of his childhood in suburban Illinois. That talent is on full display here, as we peripherally follow several ridiculous sub-plots alongside the already hilarious main action. Examples include the farcical attempts by dean of students Ed Rooney (Jeffrey Jones) to catch Ferris (Rooney’s long time white whale) in the act of playing hooky by breaking into his house, as well as the out-of-control fiction of Ferris’ illness that grows into a city-wide fundraising campaign to “Save Ferris.” Hughes’ films always seem as if they’re hovering just above reality, mimicking it while exaggerating and reconstructing it. The entire film shines with the self-aware joy we’ve come to expect from films of the 1980s.
	So what makes “Ferris Bueller” a perfect summer movie, other than the fact that it’s a bucketload of fun? After all, the movie technically doesn’t even take place during the summer. However, it does evoke the feeling of summer, the promise of glorious stretches of empty time that only summer can bring us. In a way, Ferris is living our ideal summer. He does nothing and lives for the sake of living. No deadlines, no duties, just life.
	But as teenagers, our priorities and ideas about summer are shifting. As our school year ends, we begin to look forward not to hours of unproductivity and fun, but to more responsibilities and structure: jobs, camps, and of course, the impending beginning of college. We are always acutely aware that our lives are changing, that a massive shift in how we live is on the horizon, and that we are standing on the cusp of adulthood and all the expectations and responsibilities that come with it. We become focused on what we live to accomplish and not on why we live. “Ferris Bueller” serves as not just a good time, but a timely reminder that life exists to be lived, and that sometimes just enjoying pure existence and the joy that comes with it, as Ferris does on his day off, is more important than deadlines, responsibilities, and obligations, the very things that hold Cameron back from enjoying life the same way Ferris does. Sometimes we need to forget all that and just take it all in. 
It may just be a silly teen movie, but “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”’s central conflict between the Ferrisian and Cameronian (as I have just coined them) approaches to living is one that we will find ourselves thinking about more and more as we grow older. “Life moves pretty fast,” Ferris tells us. “If you don’t stop to look around once in a while, you might miss it.” 



School days and hijacked parades: the enduring fun of Ferris Bueller

What do you get when a writer on a sketch comedy show at the National Broadcasting Company writes a comedy show for NBC about the writer of a sketch comedy show on NBC? The answer is “30 Rock.”

Tina Fey’s “30 Rock,” which aired from 2006 to 2013, takes the viewer into an exaggerated, chaotic, and almost cartoonish version of Fey’s world. The show follows the overworked and under-appreciated Liz Lemon, portrayed by Fey herself as a sort of self-caricature. Lemon struggles to write and produce the NBC sketch comedy “The Girlie Show,” whose reviews have been less than enthusiastic (“Entertainment Weekly called it a comedy!” Lemon brags, so starved for praise that she mistakes bland statements for acclamation). Lemon is tasked with juggling the show’s self-absorbed star, Jenna Maroney (played by Jane Krakowski), the unpredictable and childish Tracy Jordan (played by comedy actor Tracy Morgan, happy to parody himself), and the staunchly business-minded executive producer Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin). It is Donaghy and Lemon who are the heart and soul of the show, forming an initially uneasy alliance against their disorderly workplace.

Perhaps “disorderly” undersells “30 Rock,” where chaos is seemingly a law of the universe. Plotlines are less sequences of events that lead to a satisfying conclusion, and more loose outlines of ideas that spill over into a simultaneously unhinged and controlled absurdity. “30 Rock” never lets anything get in the way of its humor, often resulting in satisfyingly absurd plotlines and moments, of which there are plenty. For example, Tracy tries to kill Jimmy Fallon with an ax to rid himself of a curse. Greenzo (David Schwimmer), a corporate mascot hired by NBC to insincerely promote environmentalism, becomes drunk on power and turns on his corporate overlords. Former Vice President Al Gore ends an episode by tearing open his shirt like a superhero and announcing that he must save a whale, on not one, but two occasions. “30 Rock” knows that it is a show and not reality, and by extension, things don’t have to make sense within its world. It takes full advantage of not having to play by the rules of traditional narrative television, employing cutaway jokes and sight gags straight out of cartoons. Oftentimes the show directly breaks the fourth wall, such as a season five episode where the audience is kept waiting for a post-credits scene – only for the scene in question to be abruptly cut off by the episode’s ending. What else demonstrates this blurring of reality and fiction better than an episode where Liz Lemon, a self-professed “Star Wars” geek, becomes mentored by her favorite comedy writer, played by “Star Wars” actress Carrie Fisher? 

But “30 Rock” is more than a show aware of its medium. Its jokes are never jokes for their own sakes, despite their occasional juvenility. Rather, they almost always have a deeper meaning… or do they? That’s another interesting thing about this show. Any moment could be a silly gag, or an insight into society disguised as a mere parody. Is Tracy’s trying to kill Jimmy Fallon simply slapstick humor, or is it an exaggeration of our own critical discourse of celebrities? Is Greenzo just a silly role, or is his character a manifestation of the way corporations pretend to care about a cause for money while exacerbating the problem? Are Al Gore’s cameos fun guest appearances or critiques of the way we view certain public figures as heroes who can magically solve problems? No matter how you interpret these scenes, every time you laugh, you know there’s more behind that laugh than Tracy’s bulky bodyguard telling Donaghy that he wishes he lived in a world where people assumed he was a doctor. “30 Rock” is clever satire disguised as farce. 

Although “30 Rock” is a show focused on humor and not plot, it has heart and a sense of respect for the struggles of its characters, no matter how ridiculous. This sentimental side of “30 Rock” partakes in the show’s unexpected absurdity by manifesting itself in the unlikely friendship between Jack Donaghy and Liz Lemon. Donaghy is a Reagan-loving Republican who claims that he has perfected “capitalism as an art form”, while Lemon is an artistically-minded liberal who idolizes Eleanor Roosevelt and Oprah Winfrey. The two learn from each other, correct each other’s flaws and attitudes, and confide in each other, temporarily putting the show’s zaniness on hold. In a sense, the story of the show is the story of Jack and Liz working together to find a balanced view of their insane world without renouncing their differences. With Jack and Liz, “30 Rock” gives us the last piece of the puzzle. Not only does it have humor and brains, but heart and lovable characters. 

“30 Rock” is an addictive show because it always keeps us guessing. Is it farce? Is it satire? But at the end of the day, it also has a soothing effect, inviting us to sit back and contemplate a world slightly stranger than us, just as Jack and Liz do each episode.

Chaos, Comedy, and Commentary: “30 Rock”

“Do the Right Thing” Film Review

The name Spike Lee is essentially synonymous with films focusing on the complexity of racism in American society, from “Malcolm X” (1992) to “BlacKKKlansman” (2018), two portrayals of hatred on an epic scale. However, in his 1989 film, “Do The Right Thing,” Lee looks at the causes and effects of racial conflict on a smaller stage, choosing to focus only on a Brooklyn neighborhood, which acts as a microcosm of the United States as a whole. This is Spike Lee in miniature, but at his best and most complex, making it perfect as an introduction to his acclaimed filmography.“Do The Right Thing” takes place on the hottest day of the year in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a small, majority-Black New York neighborhood in the embryonic stages of gentrification. Lee spends most of the first part of the movie leading us through the sweltering landscape of brownstones and fire hydrants, introducing us to a colorful cast of characters. The film has a very inactive protagonist, Mookie, played by Lee himself, whom we follow around the neighborhood like his personal cameraman as he delivers pizza for Sal (Danny Aiello, earning himself an Oscar nomination for the role), an Italian-American man who operates the Bed-Stuy fixture Sal’s Famous Pizzeria with his sons Pino (John Turturro) and Vito (Richard Edson) in a plot that at first seems to be wandering around as aimlessly as Mookie. Along the way, racial tension grows with the heat until it reaches a tragic boiling point.That said, what makes “Do The Right Thing” special is that it doesn’t tell you what to make of the slowly built-up racial conflict it depicts: Lee presents us with a situation that is obviously wrong, but leaves us to point the fingers, every moment being left ambiguous in its cause and blame. Sal, the film’s most prominent white character, is someone we might expect to be an unhinged racist, but Lee writes him with as much respect and understanding as he does any of the film’s many Black characters, without discounting his prejudices. Sal hovers somewhere between his open-minded son Vito and his unequivocally racist son Pino. He’s happy and proud of the community his business depends on, but his own racist beliefs are harder to ignore as race relations deteriorate. In one darkly comedic montage, we see Mookie, Pino, a Korean shopkeeper, a policeman, and a Latino youth deliver verbose strings of slurs directly to the camera, addressed at each other, showing us that this is a setting connected by hatred in the most arresting way possible.Lee sets up the film in such a way that everyone will have a different opinion on who was wrong or right. Lee probably has his own interpretation too, but he doesn’t let it bleed into the movie. At the end of the day, it’s clear that what happens on that summer day in Brooklyn lies not just within the Bed-Stuy community, but outside it as well. Lee implies that the cause is a systemic hatred that is channeled through everyone and that hurts everyone. But this is only my interpretation. As I said before, everyone will have a different perspective on a movie that shows us that there isn’t always a right answer. If you want something to think about, spare 120 minutes to watch “Do the Right Thing.” Lee proves he is a master of filmmaking, using Dutch angles, fiery colors, and fluid camera movement to drop you into a world both larger than life and heartbreakingly realistic, as well as give you a movie-going experience you’ll never forget.

"Sorry to Bother You" Film Review

Bold, vibrant, and thought-provoking, Boots Riley’s debut feature “Sorry to Bother You” puts forward a passionate and unique view on the current state of U.S. racial politics and the economic system that leads to oppression. In a dystopian Oakland, Cassius Green (played by Lakieth Stanfield) is behind on his rent, and in an effort to ease the tension with his landlord, he gets a job as a telemarketer with an extreme caveat: He is paid by commission. With the help of an elderly gentleman, Cassius uncovers an uncanny ability to augment his voice in order to sound like a white “worry-free” individual. As the telemarketing company unionizes and Cassius works his way up the corporate ladder, things take an odd turn. Many of the film’s themes are impossible to analyze without spoiling the bold twists the movie takes, but its bombastic storytelling still offers plenty of insight. Boots Riley, the film’s director and writer, is an interesting character to say the least. A communist, hip-hop artist, writer, and protestor, Riley is a man who truly cares about what he preaches, his virtues evident in his unforgettable musical hits like “Your Parent’s Cocaine” and “Clap for the Killers.” He brings an unwavering passion toward Black liberation into every aspect of “Sorry to Bother You.” He doesn’t waste a single frame of his film because he is unsure if executives are going to cut his beautiful cinematic tirade short. His powerful storytelling and advocacy enhance the entire film. A group of high-level telemarketers, “power callers,” who sell slave labor and weapons of mass destruction must get into a building through a mob of angry union workers. One of these protestors films herself throwing a sharp, opened can of soda at one of the prestigious power callers. This clip goes viral on YouTube. Then, by the climax, the same, now viral woman who threw the soda can in protest of the rich elite, is recreating the scene in an advertisement for the soda company. This is in reference to the common practice of commodifying revolution, like how Apple creates deceitful racial equity initiatives while happily exploiting child labor in the Congo to mine cobalt. This criticism of modern consumerist culture takes up at most one minute of screen time total, a common pattern in this movie. But, Riley’s ability to jam-pack the film with symbol after symbol comes with a stipulation. The film lacks emotional depth — each character isn’t really a person so much as a symbol to drive yet another point home. This would be a problem if the film were a slow-burn drama, dependent on the emotional journey of the protagonist to hold the narrative together. However, this fast-paced, satirical, darkly comedic, science-fiction extravaganza is anything but that. What makes “Sorry to Bother You” work so well in comparison to its political satire contemporaries? A movie like “Don’t Look Up” also lacks emotional depth, preferring to use characters as two-dimensional symbols, but it’s a snoozefest that feels more like a lecture than a film. Instead, Riley punches you in the face with the point he’s making but does it in some of the most subversive and creative ways possible. While “Don’t Look Up” spends two hours and twenty minutes spoon-feeding you, “Sorry to Bother You” conveys its themes with seemingly surface-level symbols that intertwine into a thought-provoking narrative. From a voice augmentation superpower to a talk show where the attendee is gruesomely tortured for a live audience, “Sorry to Bother You” will show you the system is screwed while also taking you on a wild ride.

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