Cinematic Echoes: Everyday Life Through the Lens of Film

By Kiara Sangronis

The thing about movies—and TV shows for that matter–-is that they don’t just teach us how to romanticize life; they teach us how to make it bearable. Heartbreak gets a moody soundtrack, folding laundry feels like an act of quiet resilience, and somehow even crying in the bathroom becomes an aesthetic choice.

Life, of course, doesn’t come with a handsome director to yell “Cut!” when you drop your sandwich in the middle of the street or ugly cry in the walk-in fridge at work. But maybe that’s the point—movies remind us that the chaos is what makes us interesting. They tell us it’s okay to be a little messy, a little dramatic, a little ridiculous. Because even in our worst moments, there’s something cinematic about the way we keep going as if the plot twist is just around the corner.

Think about Uptown Girls. A movie about growing up, though Brittany Murphy makes a strong case for staying delightfully unbothered by any adult responsibilities. She floats through life in silk camisoles and questionable decisions, and somehow it all works. Watching it, you start to believe that your most embarrassing moments might also be charming if viewed through the right lens, or at least a soft focus.

Or what about B.A.P.S.? A movie that’s not just about chasing dreams but doing it with unapologetic style—and maybe a well-fitted pantsuit, or six. Nisi and Mickey didn’t just crash into Beverly Hills; they strutted in, turning every awkward moment into a chance to shine. 

I once tried channeling their energy at a rooftop party I had no business being at. Everyone was sipping champagne and talking about stocks, and there I was, with a plastic cup of overpriced rosé and a head full of TikTok-level business plans. Did I belong there? Not really. But I went full Nisi: big smiles, bigger stories, and a subtle flex about how I’d totally be running my own empire one day. By the end of the night, I had a few new Instagram followers and someone’s half-eaten charcuterie plate. 

It was like my own small, fabulous triumph.

Even bad dates can feel like you’ve stumbled into some experimental Czech film, the kind where everything’s just a little off-balance—half-profound, half-chaotic, and entirely absurd. Think Daisies, the 1960s fever dream about two girls deciding that since the world is rotten, they might as well be too. A philosophy like that feels tailor-made for the modern dating pool, doesn’t it? The bar lights flicker like they’re in on the joke, and the whole scene is one fake flower crown short of surrealism.

Picture it: you’re trapped across from some painfully average guy, the type who thinks he’s profound for quoting Joe Rogan. He’s explaining blockchain in the same tone one might use to recite Shakespeare, only with more beer spraying out his mouth with every word. The whole thing feels so ridiculous you half-expect to hear a voiceover explaining his tragic backstory while you plot your escape.

But why escape? Why not pull a Daisies instead? Lean into the chaos. Interrupt his crypto monologue with a toast—“To sin and destruction!”—then knock over your drink just to watch him squirm. 

Trust me, it’ll throw him off his TED Talk long enough to remember you’re a person.

Sure, it’s petty, but so what? The Maries of Daisies didn’t apologize for cutting up sausages or swinging from chandeliers, and neither should you. If dating is doomed to feel like an absurdist art piece, you might as well have fun in the process. Spit your vodka back at him and call it performance art.

At the very least, it’ll give you some prime material for the rant with your friends later.

So see? Movies and shows remind us that even disasters can make good stories.

The magic of everyday life is in the transformation, in seeing the ordinary as something extraordinary. Sex and the City taught us to own every sidewalk like it’s a runway, and Insecure found humor in the awkwardness, proving that even the messiest moments can feel meaningful. And then there’s Ruby Rhod from The Fifth Element—a character who doesn’t just embrace the chaos of life but becomes its maestro, turning every second into a neon-lit spectacle.

Channel Ruby the next time you’re stuck in life’s purgatories: a Zoom meeting with people who say “circle back,” or the DMV, which is essentially a waiting room for lost souls. Ruby wouldn’t sulk in silence. He’d narrate the scene, complete with sound effects, while wearing something so loud it would make the fluorescent lights blush. Because the thing about Ruby is this: he doesn’t adapt to the moment—the moment adapts to him.

So why not borrow a little of that energy? Wear something absurd. Overreact just enough to be memorable. Talk as if everyone is hanging on your every word (because they are), even if they’re just trying to get through their emails. Life is already happening, so you might as well make it impossible to ignore.

But the real lesson in all of this isn’t just about pretending life is a movie. It’s about perspective. Movies and TV train us to find the narrative in the chaos, to frame the mundanity of life with a little more care. That doesn’t mean lying to yourself—it means choosing to see the weird, wonderful, or even deeply frustrating moments as part of something bigger. Something worth watching.

For me, this little trick has done wonders for my outlook on life. 

Think Moulin Rogue! 

When I spilled coffee on myself five minutes before work, I didn’t panic—I imagined I was Satine, caught mid-performance, improvising through the chaos with theatrical flair. When my boyfriend and I got lost on the way to an event, it felt less like a logistical nightmare and more like a lovers’ duet, wandering through Parisian streets under the glow of the moon. And when the waiter brought me the wrong dish on my birthday, I didn’t see it as a disaster, I saw it as a moment of bohemian spontaneity, a plot twist to savor, with a martini in hand.

You must remember that life, like movies, is rarely perfect, but it’s always interesting. It’s a series of scenes, some hilarious, some poignant, some that don’t make sense until later. And if we can laugh at the bad dates, survive the awkward interviews, and see the beauty in the mundane, then maybe we’re all leading ladies and gents (or thems!)  in a story worth telling.

So, put on that outfit that’s just a little too much—the one that makes you look like you’ve wandered out of a nightclub at 4 a.m. circa 1999—and pour yourself a drink like you’re the lead in Party Monster. Because if life isn’t going to be glamorous, it might as well be messy and outrageous. Let the world be your set, with fluorescent bar lights doubling as a disco inferno and strangers who look like extras from a docuseries about bad decisions.

You don’t need a perfectly scripted narrative; you need a little chaos, a lot of glitter, and maybe a faux-fur coat that screams, “I am the main character, even in this smelly dive bar.” Because if we’re all just fumbling through, at least you can turn it into a performance worth remembering—or at least one you’ll laugh about later. 

And while life will insist on being messy, the least we can do is give it a memorable soundtrack. Look at it this way, most of our lives aren’t going to feel like a sweeping cinematic masterpiece… not until we change our narrative, that is. So why not give ourselves that push and score it like the cult classic it deserves to be?

Here's the playlist I made for when I feel life is getting a bit too serious and not enough fabulous. 

I urge you to make your own and share it with your friends because although life may not be a movie, it can at least have killer costumes and a damn good soundtrack to back it up.