For every generation, for every person who has any relationship to cinema, there is something inexplicable about when a film perfectly captures a moment. I’m not talking about a documentary or a film that captures precision, but one that just instinctually transports the viewer back to a specific moment in time. It could be 20 years later, and somehow you feel so much younger, so full of potential, and believe that the world could go your way. Given that there’s a heavy dose of nostalgia right now surrounding the years following 9/11, I thought that I would share a film that connected with me in such a way that’s difficult to fully understand unless you were at the right place at the right time.
Without an ounce of hyperbole, I believe that Little Sister (2016) is the most 2008 movie ever. This isn’t just because it takes place during that October, the final weeks before Barrack Obama is elected President. It’s about capturing the uncertainty from a middle-class standpoint, where a religious daughter returns home to discover that her brother has P.T.S.D. from a then seemingly never-ending war. It’s in giving in to those impulses of being a grown-up who still has some affection for her high school interests, notably emo music and donning pink hair to be seen as eclectic.
For starters, it was the closing of George W. Bush’s second term, more maligned than the first and filled with so much chaos that Richard Kelly accidentally made an apt criticism with an incomprehensible film. The world was different, seeking a change that would be impossible to fully understand, save that Obama’s Vice President Joe Biden ran with similar traction eight years later. It cannot be underestimated how far Obama could ride out the idea of “Hope,” of symbolizing an America that could get out of an economic collapse, a controversial war, and provide a sense of pride that was hanging in shambles. It had been seven years since 9/11, and The 21st Century already felt like it was doomed to eternal chaos.
The power of hope is unmatched. So long as one believes that tomorrow could be better, there will be a reason to keep going. At the time, Obama embodied that change free of any eventual criticism. To be young and see this man present such delightful buzzwords, chanting “Yes we can” during his campaign speeches was just good marketing. He was a 21st century president, more aware of how to appeal to young voters like myself. Bush had his two terms, and now it was time for a new approach to diplomacy, something that had potential.
I think of this watching Little Sister in large part because of how the film ends. There is no grand revelation or change, just a general sense of hope. Protagonist Colleen is sitting with her family, having made peace with their conflicts, watching a presidential debate. Here was a teaser for that happy future. Within the narrative of the film, it was restoring peace to a family that had grown apart over time. The smallest things felt life changing. So much hope existed from that couch, wishing that this would be a genuine corner turn and not just some fake out.
But to understand the power of “Yes we can” and “Hope,” one has to look back on the film at greater length. On its surface, it is yet another coming of age story wrapped in a coming home story, where Colleen’s struggle with mother Joani plays out with the rambunctious spirit of those teen years. How could it not when so much was defined by rebellion, of listening to Gwar and having this nihilistic undertone. For somebody who would eventually attend a nunnery, it is a shocking turn of events. Of course, Colleen’s doubt in faith throws her back into her past, looking for a reason to believe in, well, anything.
Home this time appears to be in the heart of Texas. Given that Bush symbolized that “Don’t mess with Texas” spirit down to a Will Ferrell impersonation that mistakenly endeared him, it makes sense to spend those dwindling days of 2008 there, coming to terms with a culture that maybe wasn’t ready for a Democrat. Given that they’re still maligned for passing some racist and misogynistic bills, it doesn’t seem likely that the homecoming will go all that well. Colleen’s past still outshines her new approach to life, which is more vanilla.
Her brother Jacob has just returned home from war, greatly deformed from combat. It has made him reclusive, nervous about a world that doesn’t accept his deformity. He is a product of a war that many supported but few wanted to fight in. He sacrificed so much, and now there’s a lingering sense of isolation. Much like The Vietnam War, the feeling that all he got was this lousy head bandage looms over his whole P.T.S.D.-ridden role. Like Colleen from Joani, Jacob feels removed from the world, desperately trying to find acceptance for his sacrifice.
Everyone had been impacted by The Bush Administration in ways that are still being understood. It’s hard not to look at those decisions at the time and wonder how things could’ve played differently, maybe ended better. It makes sense that Colleen’s ultimate response wasn’t to embrace the sunshine and lollipops of the moment. It was to wallow in uncertainty, big emotions that felt like yelling into an echo chamber. For Joani, it was getting high and neglecting her problems – even to the point where Colleen’s bedroom had changed an inch since she left. There’s plenty of tension and regret across these three characters. The question is how long they’ll want this metaphorical war to continue.
The reason that Little Sister resonates is largely that it reminds me of where I was in 2008. Maybe I’m a few years younger than Colleen, but the sensations were the same. It was the sense that America was on the verge of a major change just as I was. In California, people were protesting Prop 8 (a.k.a. the bill that would outlaw gay marriage). As a 19-year-old, the election was my first and it felt exciting to see Obama win, to return to class (my first college semester) on Monday to have a discussion over how historic that moment was. I had gotten my first part-time job, and the boundaries of what I can do were expanding. It was my first flirtation with responsibility, and the world felt like it was about to open up wider than it ever had before.
Maybe in modern times the idea of hope just seems more jaded, so rooted in a sense of caution that it’s difficult to celebrate the positives. I’m not sure how much of that is me just growing older and gaining awareness and how much is just a tragic social change. The idea of holding onto faith (even in a secular sense) becomes difficult when so much works against the belief that good things happen to good people. What is it like anymore to live without skepticism, to just believe that something better will come along? Sure, I felt it as Biden gave these empathetic speeches, willing to stay after at Town Halls to discuss his platform with random questionnaires. There was something thrilling about somebody who listened and wanted to make a change, though even then… it’s tough to believe he’ll stick to all of his promises.
Little Sister lives under the guise of a giant question mark, of what the future can hold for this Texan family. They don’t seem to be the least bit compatible, where Joani openly admits that she’s a bad mother, where Jacob seems incapable of returning to a normal life. What could possibly give them hope to continue?
This isn’t a movie with any big revelation but feels indicative of how 2008 was designed as this turning point in American history. The fraught Bush Era was over. Now it was time to heal and grow. To have a family learn to communicate with each other is the best that can be offered, believing that they can change, that they can become better people. As they dance in Universal Horror outfits, they remember the joy of simply being in each other’s company, that they all had struggled to overcome and shouldn’t judge each other harshly. Whether or not they will long term isn’t seen, but sitting around watching Obama say “Yes we can” feels like subtext reaching the surface. Can they be a happy family again? Yes, yes they can.
This is by no means the most exemplary look into The Bush Era that one can expect. I’d argue that, for as sloppy as it is, Don Winslow’s “Savages” captures the raw nerve with less preciousness. That’s ultimately the issue with looking at this time. It’s full of hostility and violence, but what gets lost in it is the sense of self, the sense that there is a reason to keep living and try to make tomorrow better. Little Sister is a weird film about grappling with identity and figurative hope, but it does so amid battle scars and a society that goes against Colleen’s personal lifestyle. So much is discussed without being made a soapbox. It is allowed to be tender and beautiful.
When thinking about 9/11, it’s tough not to think of the immediate or at least the connection to the important moments. It’s true that those matter the most, though there’s also the need to believe that humanity will work together to make a change, and by 2008 it was the culmination of one administration trying to make it work. Nobody knew what the future held, and Little Sister feels like that turning point is being anticipated. It may not speak the best to the war or any specific policy, but it speaks to internal emotions and conflicts that were always there, waiting to be observed and discussed. The results are a heartwarming reminder that families can better themselves, that society can achieve greater things. All that one has to do is open up and ask how.
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