"Oh—Sxxt—"
"Where did this song co from?"
"Did Warner make this song specifically for the movie?"
At the sa ti, in New York—
Robert Shaye, founder of New Line Cinema, was sitting in a Tis Square theater watching The Voice.
The first eight minutes of the film had already darkened his expression.
As soone who had been in the business for thirty-five years, he could easily tell that The Voice's opening was executed with real skill.
The pacing was brisk, the information density was huge—
In just two short sequences, Chris Columbus had already outlined the sunny personality of the protagonist, the fragnted life of the mother, the decadence of the grandfather, the irritability of the uncle, and the depression of the sister.
And when all of this was wrapped under a codic surface, the opening felt genuinely entertaining.
While Shaye was quickly estimating how many kids this movie might win over—and how much box office The Two Towers might lose because of its upbeat tone—
the sudden appearance of a song made his face turn pale.
He could tell it was Isabella's voice.
He could tell she was singing in a tone reminiscent of a church hymn.
He could also tell the song was very bright and sunny.
But none of that mattered—
What mattered most was… this song seed to fit the story of The Voice perfectly?
Yes.
Even though he hadn't yet seen the rest of the movie, even though he hadn't heard the full song,
he still felt instinctively that the music and the story matched perfectly.
That feeling was terrifying.
Because film and sound can't be separated.
When you watch a movie and feel that the music fits the the seamlessly, the film can only go in one of two directions—it's either going to be a masterpiece or a total disaster. There's no middle ground.
And usually, "total disasters" only appear in serious dramas.
So a musical film that's already this on point from the start?
OMG—
Is there even any suspense left?
Shaye thought maybe he should leave the theater.
Yes, even this one setup alone told him the film wouldn't flop.
But he didn't want to leave.
Because even if he had to die, he wanted to die understanding why.
His secretary stayed silent beside him. He understood his boss's question, but couldn't answer.
Sure, New Line had informants inside Warner, but the actual production side of things?
Let's just say—if they could influence production, they wouldn't be in this losing position to begin with.
So…
No answer. Just keep watching.
Their quietness didn't disturb the other audience mbers.
To the general public, the reaction was simple—they also thought the sudden song was beautiful.
They couldn't explain why; the sense of fit between the lyrics and the tone was sothing only professionals could detect imdiately.
To most, Isabella's voice was just pure, ethereal, and the song itself delightful.
But none of that mattered. Because as the song continued, the film cut scenes.
The father appeared, celebrating his success at work with colleagues as the background music faded softly.
Then his phone rang—
It was a call from a publishing house. Turns out, besides his day job, he was also a writer.
He had submitted a manuscript, and it had just been approved for publication.
Ecstatic, he rushed ho to share the news with his family.
On the drive back, he turned on the car radio—
and the song that had just faded out began playing again.
"Oh! So the dad is the most successful one in the family!"
"He must be the role model, right?"
"And maybe he's the key to Lily's dream?"
As Be What You Wanna Be played for the second ti, many audience mbers thought they understood the director's intention.
Lily had dreams, her father was successful—the song linking them was clearly symbolic.
Especially when the lyrics said:
Why not sothing like your old man?
In the audience's mind, that was an outright hint.
Lily and her dad were the family's only two rays of sunshine—
the ones who would inspire the rest of the broken family to chase their dreams.
And in a sense… that was true.
When the father returned ho and saw the ss, he imdiately took charge—
He cleaned up his own father's vomit,
helped the old man to the dinner table, trying to reunite the family,
diated the argunt between his daughter and his brother-in-law,
knocked on his daughter's door, not to scold her but to ask her to co eat,
then joined his wife in the kitchen, carrying dishes and hugging her from behind, whispering about his small triumphs at work.
A seamless series of gestures made the father seem radiant.
But unfortunately, you can't fix a broken family through effort alone.
And that was the part the audience didn't get right—
Yes, he could clean up his father's vomit,
but he couldn't sober him up.
He could diate between his sister and brother-in-law,
but he couldn't make them truly reconcile.
Soon, the uncle and sister were arguing again over food,
the clinking of cutlery echoing through the tense silence.
The chaos, the noise—it all ignited the mother's fury again.
The father sighed, rolled up his sleeves, ready to calm things down—
when suddenly, his phone rang.
The boss called:
the partnership they had celebrated earlier was canceled.
And because they'd "celebrated prematurely," they were all fired.
Then another call—this ti from the publisher.
Apparently, there'd been a mistake.
His manuscript hadn't been approved after all.
He was encouraged to "try again next ti."
With his wife standing right there, hearing everything—
Bang!
She slamd the pot down hard on the stove.
The sudden crash startled the drunken grandpa,
made the bickering siblings jump,
and left the once-successful father standing like Gotham's newest orphan—
stunned, silent.
"Oh? The dad's a loser too?"
"Oh my god—the whole family's a bunch of losers?"
"Oh—this family's hopeless—how's Hermione supposed to chase her dream in this ss?"
In Little Miss Sunshine, only two out of the six family mbers were losers:
the pot-smoking grandpa and the suicidal uncle studying the "Proustian effect."
Everyone else wasn't really a failure.
The brother only discovered he was colorblind during the trip to the pageant—before that, he was a driven drear.
The dad only realized his "success talk" was hollow on the road.
And the mother was loving and supportive—the pageant itself was inspired by her own sister's career in that field.
In other words, the family had sunshine from the start.
Writer Michael Arndt designed it that way—because a healthy family is the foundation of success.
Harmony at ho frees you to chase your goals.
So, if the Zeller family were all losers—
Oh boy—
How was this little beaver supposed to climb her way up?
As the audience realized that Lily's situation wasn't as rosy as they thought,
they leaned forward, wide-eyed.
Everyone wanted to know:
In a family like this, how could she still dream?
In a world where the adults had given up, why hadn't the child?
And one more thing puzzled them:
if the song literally said "be like your old man,"
why was the old man a loser?
That didn't make sense!
And that tension, that curiosity—
Robert Shaye felt it too.
Because he now realized The Voice was better made than their own Ace.
Or rather, Columbus's ability to plant story hooks was now on par with Spielberg and Caron.
But at the sa ti—
"If the whole family are losers, that makes the story ten tis harder to write…"
He muttered to himself.
Still, even as a rival, he had to know—how would the story unfold?
Onscreen, the little sun—Lily—appeared again five minutes later.
Her mother's shouting had caused a household earthquake,
disrupting her songwriting upstairs.
Curious, she took off her headphones and crept downstairs.
Peeking from the staircase corner like a sneaky beaver,
her cute, mischievous expression made the audience burst into laughter.
"Oh—"
"Miss Beaver is too cute—"
"She and her family are like they're from two different movies—"
The little girl's quiet curiosity went unnoticed by her family.
But the freezing silence of the dining room soon gave her away.
To break the ice, she greeted everyone cheerfully.
In return, she got stiff, awkward responses.
The sound of cutlery clinking was deafening.
"Hey! What's wrong with everyone today?"
When no one replied, she turned to her dad.
"Dad, you used to call for dinner after work. Why didn't you today?"
"Oh—maybe I was just too tired from work—"
He forced a strained smile. "And I stayed up too late writing last night, so—"
"Heh~"
Before he could finish, her mom cut him off with a sharp, sarcastic laugh.
He looked embarrassed, shrugged, and fell silent.
Lily frowned, scanning her parents, then looked at her uncle.
"Riley, what happened to your nose? Why's it red?"
The question made her sister look up, and the uncle forced a grin.
"Oh~ I just bumped it accidentally~"
"Accidentally?"
"Yeah."
"…"
Awkward silence filled the air again.
The weird tension made the little girl sigh.
"Well, if none of you want to talk, then I'll talk."
"Okay! Since you're all fine, I have sothing to announce. You know The Voice of the World, right? I ntioned it before. I've decided to officially enter the competition! The city auditions are this weekend—so, who's coming with ?"
The question hit like a shoe on a cat's tail.
In an instant, everyone at the table froze.
They all turned to stare at her.
Her expression was serious—she ant it.
The adults exchanged glances, silently checking if they'd heard correctly.
Finally, her mom spoke:
"Oh—Lily—"
"You really want to enter The Voice? I thought you were just joking before—"
"I'm not trying to discourage you, but… that competition has a lot of professionals. I heard Cole Carter is going. You know Cole, right? The lead soloist from the church choir next door…"
"Yeah~ yeah~ yeah~ Mom's right~"
Her sister imdiately nodded.
"Lily, you've never had formal vocal training. Joining The Voice will just be a waste of ti. Unless you just want to experience it—then fine, I'll go with you. But if you actually expect to win…"
"Oh—"
"I just think you shouldn't get your hopes too high. The higher the hope, the harder the fall…"
"Yeah, your sister's right."
The uncle, who'd been silent, chid in.
"Lily, we all know you've been sneaking off to the church to study music, and that your dream is to write your own song. But…"
"You still don't have any solid ideas yet, do you?"
"Music depends on talent. When I was in London, I heard about people who could compose without even learning theory—like John Lennon. He grew up with his aunt, didn't formally study music until high school, and still managed to write songs good enough to earn him a recomndation to Liverpool Art School."
"So, since music is all about talent… I personally think you should focus more on your actual studies."
The sudden torrent of "advice" fell like heavy rain—
a downpour of doubt and dismissal.
Their concern sounded like dark cody.
Every person who spoke beca a clown.
Because earlier in the story, they all had dreams.
The uncle was trying to prove the Hodge Conjecture.
The sister wanted to get into the Vienna Academy of Arts.
The mother longed for a better life.
Yet now, these drears were telling the youngest one to face "reality."
That—was perhaps the greatest irony of all.
Because they'd already hit walls themselves,
they didn't want her to.
They couldn't accept their own diocrity,
but they wanted her to "live safely."
In theaters across the UK and US, many parents instinctively glanced at their children.
In the dark, their kids' eyes glowed with focus.
They pressed their lips together.
After all, while no two parents are identical,
Harry Potter's fanbase shares one thing in common:
their families are usually harmonious.
And in harmony, what parent doesn't want their child to thrive?
Even the "players" like Mason—they too wish they could embrace their kids.
Yet, at the sa ti, what parent doesn't dream of seeing their child succeed through passion?
No one wants to watch their child lose hope.
And so, as this contradiction settled in—
"This movie's actually really good."
"So how's little Beaver gonna convince her family?"
The adults, quietly, cast their votes in their hearts.
anwhile, on screen—Lily Zeller, unaware of their thoughts, smiled.
"Oh, so you can all speak in full sentences, huh?"
"Then why didn't you answer just now when I was talking to you?"
"And why were you all spitting out words one by one like robots?"
Anyone with half a brain could tell Lily Zeller was teasing.
Because she had no idea what had just happened.
There was no malice in her tone.
But in the eyes of her mom, her sister, and her uncle, her words were provocation.
Or rather—
in their world, Lily Zeller was being defiant.
She simply didn't want to accept their advice.
So, naturally…
As if they shared so divine sense of timing, all three opened their mouths at once—
Mom: "Oh, Lily—what you're saying now isn't the sa as what you said before, you can't mix the two together…"
Sister: "Lily, we never said we wouldn't go with you, our suggestion is just for your own good…"
Uncle: "Lily, listen to , I just hope you can make your life plan a little more realistic…"
Their overlapping voices buzzed like a swarm of a thousand mosquitoes.
And to make matters worse, sitting right in the middle, Lily Zeller could practically feel the surround sound effect.
The dining table was rectangular, and naturally, that ant conflict. The sister and the uncle sat at opposite ends, the parents sat together to appear harmonious, and Lily sat across from them with her grandfather.
So when the three adults started talking all at once, the cara on screen practically looked like a tribunal—three judges staring her down.
Even so, Lily Zeller didn't get angry.
The little sun that she was, she t them all with a smile.
anwhile, her father tried several tis to speak up in her defense.
But ever since losing his "backbone of the family" title, his words were treated as background noise. The mom, the sister, and the uncle talked over him completely.
They went on and on and on—until their faces started to twist with frustration.
The father was close to breaking down, the girl looked helpless, and even the usually silent grandfather beside her grew irritated.
He saw clearly that they weren't trying to solve anything—just venting their own emotions.
The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, and from his alcohol-soaked throat ca a rough growl—
"Enough—"
"Stop arguing—"
"Will it kill you to let Lily say a word—?"
Bang!
He slamd the table hard.
The furious outburst shocked the room into silence.
The mom, sister, and uncle all shrank back. They were afraid of the old man when he got angry.
He glared at them one by one, then, after letting his anger fade, turned to his granddaughter—
"Lily, do you really want to join The Voice?"
His voice was serious.
"Yes."
The girl nodded firmly.
"Can you tell why?"
"Because I love music. I want to sing."
"That simple?"
"That simple."
Her honest answer made the old man chuckle softly.
He pressed his lips together, ready to say sothing—but before he could, Lily Zeller spoke again:
"Of course, besides that, there's another reason I want to join—because you all have dreams, and I want to have one too."
At that, her words paused.
She glanced around the table.
Wherever her gaze fell, her next words followed—
"Mom, you want a better life."
The mother froze, mouth open, unable to make a sound.
"Uncle, Mom said you've loved math since you were little. You've been working on tough problems, hoping to beco the greatest mathematician."
Her uncle's cheeks tightened with embarrassnt.
"Sis, you love painting. You want to go to Vienna and hold your own exhibition soday."
The sister looked away, unable to et her younger sister's eyes.
Lily continued, calm but steady:
"You all have clear goals in life. I really admire that."
"So when I found out how much I love music, I wanted to be just like you."
Her words were simple—but heavy.
The weight of them silenced the entire dining room.
Even the grandfather smiled kindly, nodding again and again, clearly touched.
And just when it seed like he was about to declare his full support—
Lily's eyes shifted again, landing on the one person who hadn't spoken.
She wasn't done yet.
Looking at her father, she said softly, "And of course, there's Dad."
"Dad goes to work every day, but he still writes in his spare ti, and even submits his stories to magazines. I really admire that."
"To , he's always been a suit-wearing Superman—soone who can support the family and still chase his dreams."
"I don't know why he ignored earlier today, but I still want to say this—"
"You'll support , right?"
"Daddy?"
She blinked at him playfully.
Her father looked as if he'd been struck by lightning.
He hadn't expected her to bring him up.
His lips trembled; it took several seconds before he managed to speak.
"Ye…ah…"
"Yeah…"
"Yeah!"
And just as he nodded hard, Be What You Wanna Be began to play again—
"Focus on every little thing~"
"That's what does really matter~"
"Luxury cars and bling, that's not real life~"
The family dinner scene froze on screen.
If earlier, the loser family had painted the film in shades of gray,
then now, the little sun of the story—the beaver girl—had turned all the gray into color.
And the first to be touched by that color was her father.
"Oh! Lily's amazing—!"
Her success in winning them over made the kids in the audience cheer—
"Isa's right! You all have dreams—why can't I?"
"Exactly! You get to do what you love, so why can't I?"
"Even if it's hard, you should at least try!"
"Yeah! You might fail if you try, but you'll definitely fail if you don't!"
The adults who had been puzzled by the song finally understood—
"Oh—so the song has two anings?"
"'Chasing dreams' refers to career?"
"And 'looking around you' ans life?"
"So you can chase your career dreams, and even if you fail, it's fine—because you still have life?"
"And as long as there's love in your heart, you'll always be a hero in your family's eyes?"
"My god—this setup—brilliant—hahaha—"
Across theaters in the UK and US, quiet laughter spread.
Mostly from the adults, of course.
Because yes—
making the whole family losers was just a storytelling device to heighten drama.
If everyone were truly losers, the story wouldn't even work.
That's why Isabella, under Columbus's guidance, divided the "loser" concept into two kinds—career losers and life losers.
And the Zeller family? They were career losers.
The sister failed to get into Vienna—career failure.
The uncle couldn't solve his math problem—career failure.
The father's story got rejected and he lost his job—career failure again.
But does failure in your career define your whole life?
No way.
If you can't be a doctor, then be sothing else.
There's always another path.
And once your world splits into work and life,
that's when Be What You Wanna Be cos in.
Yes, Isabella had planted that song deliberately.
Because that's exactly what it ans.
"Oh—that kind of false duality design is brilliant—"
"Maybe a bit cheeky—but very clever."
In a Fifth Avenue theater in New York, Wall Street Journal columnist Joe Morgenstern smiled and nodded.
He'd been writing film reviews for 37 years.
He'd seen everything—
but a movie like The Voice,
that could paint one story in two colors within 25 minutes,
then tie the gray of career failure and the color of life together with a single song—
that, he'd never seen before.
Of course, that's not to say no other director could do it.
After all, nearly every "chasing your dreams" movie tells the story of soone failing in their career but finding redemption in life before returning to the dream renewed.
So the concepts of "career loser" and "life loser" weren't new.
But harmony—now that was the rare thing.
Everyone knows the logic. Anyone can write the story.
But to tie it together with one song?
That's rare.
"So where the hell did this song co from? It fits the movie perfectly."
Washington.
Washington Post columnist Stephen Hunter was humming along as he asked his secretary.
Like Robert Shaye's secretary before him, the man had no answer.
But really—did it matter?
Not when the audience was hanging on every mont of the story.
Watching the movie—that was what mattered now.
Yes…
As his secretary shook his head, Stephen Hunter glanced around the theater.
Christmas morning wasn't the best ti for a movie; winter holidays were ant for sleeping in.
And yet, nearly one-third of the seats were filled.
Families with kids everywhere—proof of Hermione Granger's star power.
And the fact that both kids and adults were loving it—
"Terrifying."
Los Angeles.
Newsweek columnist David Ansen was also watching.
In just the first 25 minutes, the theater had erupted in cheers several tis.
Such spontaneous audience reactions impressed him deeply.
He hadn't seen that happen in a drama film for years.
And on screen—the more he saw, the more curious he beca.
He wanted to know: if The Voice started this strong,
how could the rest possibly unfold?
If Chris Columbus could paint the father's role so vividly—
then how would he handle the mother, the uncle, the sister, and the grandfather?
And that—
was exactly where Be What You Wanna Be played on,
as The Voice continued to move forward at full speed.
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