Little Miss Sunshine  Opens at Guild 45 and Pacific Place, Fri.,
Aug. 4. Rated R. 101 minutes.  A contemptible would-be comedy
that had them in stitches at Sundance this year (where it sold
to great fanfare for $10 million), Sunshine portrays anyone not
cool enough to attend Sundance in contemptuous terms. It belongs
to the genre of what might be called flyover ridicule: All those
people living below, as we fly our private jets to Park City
from the coasts, who'll never appreciate indie cinema, who are
content with their ugly homes and drab dreams, who participate
in tacky JonBenet Ramsey–style child beauty pageants—wouldn't it
be hellish to live among them? Which is precisely where Sunshine
plunks us down, among the Hoover clan, which consists of a
failed motivational speaker (Greg Kinnear), his sensible wife
(Toni Collette), a drug-addict grandpa (Alan Arkin), a
Nietzsche-worshipping teen son (Paul Dano), and a 7-year-old
aspiring beauty queen (Abigail Breslin). The movie imagines that
our only benchmark of