“Why would they make a new ‘Cat in the Hat’ movie, the 2003 live action was perfect!” I said to my sister as we passed by a Cat in the Hat (2026) poster at the theater.
Over winter break, my sister and I watched a movie almost every other night. We rewatched some of our childhood favorites, like Matilda and Barbie Princess Charm School, as well as popular ones that we hadn’t watched, like The Notebook and The Princess Bride.
We would roll in laughter realizing how funny children’s movies were, especially Shrek and Despicable Me. However, it was interesting to see how much depth was in a lot of movies that blew past us as kids. My sister questioned whether Dave from Alvin and the Chipmunks truly had a moral obligation to let in the chipmunks from the rain, and I responded, “Well, Dave only lets them in after he realizes he can exploit their music capabilities. He isn’t much better than Ian, huh?” Similarly, we understood depictions of grief and disorientation in movies a lot better with a “grown-up” perspective.
When we watched Big Hero 6, it had a unique application to our own lives. I’d moved from my family in SoCal to go to the University of California, Berkeley and my family had visited me in the Bay Area a few times. As a result, my sister and I had a visual and tangible understanding of the Bay Area. As we watched the movie, I loved exclaiming “Bay Area mention!” when the movie got details of San Francisco right: whether it was the background trees, the street architecture, or the vastness of the ocean. However, the most personal parallel between the movie and us was the relationship between Tadashi and Hiro. Like them, we had gone through losses together and were there for each other as we grew up.
What had really struck a chord with me was realizing that my sister, who’s an Emergency Medical Technician, was both Baymax and Tadashi to me. She was Baymax in her profession and the one who offered medical advice (not diagnoses!) to our family. She was Tadashi to me in that she was a supportive and kind older sibling who cared deeply for others, at the cost of sacrificing her own tranquility.
When I came back from winter break, I realized my break was great not just because I got to spend time with my sister, but because I got to share a lot of emotions and conversations with her that were inspired by movies. We bawled our eyes out together at the ending of Train to Busan, fearfully held each other during the horse-racing scene of Shark Tale, and threw our heads back in laughter to Megamind. Last winter was a great reminder of how much beauty and wonder there is in viewing depictions of life through an artistic lens. There’s always something to be dissected, and it’s easier to relate and communicate these ideas with someone who you grew up alongside and love unconditionally.