Last spring, the Daily Film beat was 

inspired by the doldrums of quarantine 
and the introduction of Disney+ to watch 
and review a number of Disney Channel 
Original Movies — DCOMs for short. There 
are many ways to look at DCOMs — as relics 
of the 2000s, as problematic attempts at 
representation, as textbook examples of the 
power of nostalgia — but there is no denying 
that they are somewhat trivial in the grand 
scheme of things.

If we’re being honest, it’s been a while since 

quarantine has felt truly idle: Between the 
pandemic, protests and politics, the world 
feels as though it is unraveling. It can feel odd 
to talk about something as inconsequential 
as DCOMs when these past few months 
have been difficult for everyone in different 
ways, and we would be remiss if we didn’t 
acknowledge that. That said, there is a 
difference between reprieve and perpetuating 
ignorance. If you choose to go on this DCOM 
journey with us, we ask that you keep this in 
mind.

For us at the Daily Film beat, DCOMs 

were a big part of our childhoods. The Disney 
Channel has long been a staple of children’s 
entertainment, churning out hit TV shows, 
family-friendly pop stars and their beloved 
original movies. Over 100 original DCOMs 
have aired on Disney Channel since the 
DCOM banner began in 1997, raking in 
millions of viewers with each film. As a 
beat, we’ve decided to watch and review 
a number of these films, whether they’re 
musicals, classics or generally unknown. 
We all know that these aren’t exactly high-
concept — despite their charm, most DCOMs 
are incredibly low-budget, filmed cheaply 
in Canada with unseasoned child actors and 
awkward dialogue. So instead, our reviews 
are based on how much we enjoyed the film in 
the context of it being a 90-minute TV movie 
made for kids. We’re also aware that these 
reviews are particularly biased, fueled by 
nostalgia for the films, actors and music that 
defined our childhoods.

The first installment of this series will 

cover the first set of what we’re calling 
“Classic DCOMs” — well-known DCOMs 

that reached a wide audience through high 
viewer ratings and perpetual re-airings. 
Many of these DCOMs feature Disney 
Channel stars, killer 2000s soundtracks and 
iconic aesthetics. As you join us for this joyride 
of nostalgia and charmingly low quality, we 
only have one thing left to say:

“Hi, we’re the Film beat, and you’re 

watching Disney Channel.”

— Kari Anderson, Daily Arts Writer

“Halloweentown” (1998)
Disney Channel in October was always an 

experience — fun, Halloween-themed movies 
playing every day of the month and new 
Halloween episodes of “Hannah Montana” 
and “Wizards of Waverly Place” on Sunday 
nights. What more could an eight-year-old 
ask for? Obviously, the only thing better than 
a month of Disney Halloween is to create 
a universe where Halloween is through 
the whole year; enter, “Halloweentown.” 
Released in 1998, the film is the first 
installment of four in which we meet the 
Pipers: Marnie (Kimberly J. Brown, “Quints”), 
Dylan 
(Joey 
Zimmerman, 
“Treehouse 

Hostage”) and Sophie (Emily Roeske, “Fell’s 
Redeemer”). The film also introduces their 
mother Gwen (Judith Hoag, “Forever My 
Girl”) and grandmother Aggie (Debbie 
Reynolds, “Singin’ in the Rain”). For Marnie 
and her siblings, the magic of Halloween is 
marred by the fact that their mother refuses 
to let them enjoy the holiday to the fullest, a 
tragedy for anyone who understands the joys 
of trick-or-treating. As the film progresses, 
the audience learns about Halloweentown, 
a world of warlocks, witches, trolls and other 
fantastical creatures. “Halloweentown” is 
one of the more impressive DCOM franchises, 
second only to “High School Musical.” The 
first film addresses how well we really know 
our parents. As 10-year-olds, we’ve really only 
been alive for a third of our parents’ lives, a 
fact that becomes increasingly clear when 
Marnie learns of her mother’s witchy history. 
On top of that, the films successfully create a 
whole other dimension with social issues that 
parallel those of the real world (for example, 
the prejudice towards “mortals”), all while 
maintaining that signature Disney pluck. 

— Emma Chang, Daily Arts Writer

“Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century” (1999)
“Zenon” is arguably one of the most iconic 

DCOMs, with its neon color palette and 
costumes that gave millennials a nostalgic 
love of holographic outfits. The film is set in 
2049 on a private space station that Zenon 
Kar (Kirsten Storms, “General Hospital”) has 
called home for eight years. Despite growing 
up in space, Zenon is basically a normal 
13-year-old girl: curious and unapologetic, 
with boy band posters in her room and 
a vocabulary of unique slang terms (like 
“Zetus Lapetus” or “lunarious”). Clashes 
with the station’s rules lead to Zenon getting 
“grounded” — sent to live on Earth with 
her slightly agoraphobic Aunt Judy (Holly 
Fulger, “Anything But Love”). Adapting to 
life on Earth is not easy for Zenon, whether 
it’s understanding money, learning how to 
ride a bike or making friends. To make it 
harder, it’s suddenly up to her to save the 
space station and everyone on it. “Zenon” has 
a predictability to it, but it’s unique in terms 
of creative worldbuilding. It’s fun to see the 
idea of 2049 from a 1999 point of view: The 
tech gadgets are advanced but the rock stars 
still have frosted tips. The movie inspired two 
sequels, making it one of Disney Channel’s 
first franchises, and features Raven-Symoné 
(“That’s So Raven”) at the beginning of a long 
Disney Channel career. And while “Zenon” 
may inspire some questions — are all of the 
cars in 2049 Volkswagen Bugs? Did they really 
give a Northwestern University astronomy 
professor an unacknowledged cameo? How 
do I pull off a high side-ponytail like Zenon? — 
you can’t deny that this film is, as Zenon might 
say, totally lunarious. 

— Kari Anderson, Daily Arts Writer

Smart House (1999) 
“Smart” technology, beginning with 

the smartphone, has certainly changed the 
way we go about life — there’s little that isn’t 
documented through the help of an iPhone 
camera, and with the rise of technology like 
Amazon’s Alexa, Apple’s Siri and Google 
Home, the idea of a smart house is no longer 
just a cheesy 1999 Disney movie, but rather 
our reality. In “Smart House,” technology 
and the way characters interact with it are 
surprisingly similar to today, regardless 
of the fact that “Smart House” is over two 

decades old. Ryan Merriman (“The Luck of 
the Irish”) plays Ben, a teenager desperate 
to make sure his family doesn’t forget their 
late mother, mainly by preventing his dad 
from ever meeting someone new. Part of this 
plan involves winning, and moving into, a 
“smart” house. And, at first, it seems to work 
— Pat, much like Siri or Alexa, is programmed 
to respond to whatever the family asks of 
her. Whether it’s finishing up homework 
or making a snack, this smart house can 
do it. What’s interesting is the warning 
that Disney gives regarding our reliance 
on technology. Ben programs the house to 
act as a surrogate mother, not realizing the 
detrimental effects this may have on his life. 
Expecting a computer to behave like a human 
is a dangerous idea with which many science-
fiction authors have grappled. In spite of the 
fact that it instills a fear of technology, Disney’s 
“Smart House” deserves much praise, if only 
because the dad (Kevin Kilner, “A Cinderella 
Story”) is beautiful. 

— Emma Chang, Daily Arts Writer

“Johnny Tsunami” (1999)
“Johnny Tsunami” is one of the best, most 

literal takes on the DCOM fish-out-of-water 
story, centering Johnny Kapahaala (Brandon 
Baker, “One World”), who was born and 
raised in Hawaii. His grandfather Johnny 
Tsunami (Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, “The Last 
Emperor”) is a legendary surfer and has been 
teaching Johnny to surf his entire life. The 
Kapahaala family isn’t always on the same 
page: Johnny’s father Pete (Yuji Okumoto, 
“The Karate Kid Part II”) has a troubled 
relationship with his father that extends to 
his relationship with Johnny, while Johnny’s 
mother Melanie (Mary Page Keller, “Duet”) 
tries to keep the peace. When the family 
moves to Vermont for Pete’s job, Johnny is 
forced to adapt, leaving Hawaii, surfing and 
his grandfather behind. He gets involved with 
winter sports, but finds himself in the middle 
of a bizarre turf war between private school 
and public school kids: Private school kids, 
known as Skies, are skiers, while public school 
kids, known as Urchins, are snowboarders. 
Even with the strange socio-economic 
undertones (did the public school kids really 
have to be called urchins?), it’s a status quo 
that’s itching to be broken. Despite going to 

private school, Johnny becomes friends with 
Sam (Lee Thompson Young, “The Famous 
Jett Jackson”), an Urchin who teaches him 
how to snowboard. Together, they dare to 
break the mold, hoping to unite the mountain 
in the process. “Johnny Tsunami” can be 
cheesy at times, but it’s generally delightful. 
It’s a wholesome movie about taking on 
challenges and being yourself, as well as a 
beautiful mix of surfing and snowboarding 
montages that make me miss the beach and 
the mountains at the same time. 

— Kari Anderson, Daily Arts Writer

“Luck of the Irish” (2001)
The plotline of “Luck of the Irish” is bonkers: 

15-year-old Kyle (Ryan Merriman, “Smart 
House”) discovers that he’s half-leprechaun 
after losing a family good luck charm. Kyle is 
a relatively popular basketball player with a 
lucky streak, so he finds it distressing when 
he starts having bad luck, as well as getting 
shorter and occasionally slipping into an Irish 
accent — all side effects of losing the lucky 
charm. He then has to work with his family 
and friends to get the charm back from a zany 
and maniacal villain (Timothy Omundson, 
“Psych”), a struggle that concludes with a 
bizarre Irish sports tournament. “Luck of the 
Irish” is occasionally hilarious, sometimes 
when the writers are trying to be funny and 
sometimes when they really aren’t. The 
writing is often awkward, and the strong Irish 
accents are impossible to take seriously. It’s a 
fascinating amalgamation that doesn’t always 
work — part fantasy and part sports movie, 
with a dash of Irish step-dancing and a strong 
through-line about heritage that essentially 
(and disappointingly) ends with “we’re all 
American.” It’s interesting to see where Disney 
tries to broach the idea of discrimination with 
a very brief discussion of anti-Irish sentiments 
in the 1800s, but it’s almost as interesting to 
wonder why so many people are invested in 
junior high school basketball. “Luck of the 
Irish” is such a weird film, but it’s fun enough 
to deserve some credit. 

— Kari Anderson, Daily Arts Writer

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
12 — Wednesday, September 23, 2020

FILM NOTEBOOK
The film beat revisits Disney Channel Original Movies

The different forms of self within self-help books

DAILY FILM WRITERS

Daily Arts Writer

NINA MOLINA
Daily Arts Writer

I, like many other steadfast fiction readers, 

generally would not touch a non-fiction book 
with a ten-foot pole, preferring stories that 
offer an escape from my own mundane life. 
Once in a blue moon, I grudgingly venture 
into the world of non-fiction, feeling like 
I need to expand my repertoire of books, 
only to mentally check out after the first 
few pages. Why would I read about real life 
when imagination can conjure up scenarios 
that are so much more interesting? However, 
this year marked a surprising change for me. 
I entered the world of non-fiction books, and 
this time, I stuck around.

This adjustment came amid a time 

of extraordinary change, namely the 
emergence of COVID-19. During the long 
months of quarantine, many, inspired by 
online blogs or extreme boredom, decided 
to make use of their isolation by embarking 
on self-improvement journeys. As COVID-
19 spread through the country and people 
were forced to remain home, online yoga, 
meditation and mental health resources 
started popping up on social media 
platforms like Instagram and TikTok. I 
watched as my friends began undertaking 
self-improvement journeys, posting about 

their morning quarantine yoga flows, 
mediation sessions and Chloe Ting workout 
challenges. 

Unfortunately, I was not one of the 

productive 
quarantine 
types. 
Besides 

reading and baking a lot, I did not respond 
to complete social isolation with increased 
motivation like some others, who seemed 
to be checking off every life goal during 
quarantine (starting a podcast, really?). 
Nonetheless, I surprisingly ended up 
participating in the aforementioned self-
help trend. This summer I took a roadtrip 
across the country, and eight hours into 
the third day I was getting stir crazy from 
the boredom and monotony of the drive. 
Desperate for some entertainment, I looked 
for free audiobooks on Spotify. The only 
book I could find was Mark Manson’s “The 
Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck”. Having 
nothing else to do, I started listening and 
found myself immediately engrossed in the 
author’s philosophy on life. Five hours later, 
I had listened to the whole book, and it was 
through this experience that I stumbled 
onto a new genre of reading: self-help books.

After Manson’s book, I read two other 

self-help books in quick succession, “Daring 
Greatly” by Brenée Brown and “How to 
Win Friends and Influence People” by Dale 
Carnegie. What I found most interesting 
about these three books was how different 

each author’s message was. I found myself 
wondering, how do I know who to believe? 
Some ideas resonated more deeply with me 
than others, and I tended to lean toward the 
books that had practical applicability in my 
life or related to the issues I was currently 
facing. 

Each author approaches giving advice 

differently. Manson talks about his failures 
bluntly, and explains the experiences that 
led him to his current philosophy on life. 
His personal style is straightforward, 
unsparing and often raunchy. Rather than 
telling readers to ‘be positive’ and ‘look on 
the bright side’ like I had expected from self-
help books, he speaks frankly about what 
he thinks is wrong with people nowadays, 
and how they can fix themselves. Manson 
does not have a background in psychology 
or experience studying his ideas in practice, 
he simply explains his theory on having a 
fulfilling life and acknowledges his openness 
to being wrong and having more to learn.

Brenée Brown, on the other hand, has 

a somewhat different personal style from 
Manson; she is understanding, relatable and 
funny. I felt like I was having a conversation 
with a friend, as she took me through 
her own experiences with vulnerability 
and opening up. Brown also has a strong 
background in research and the study of 
human emotion, vulnerability, shame and 

leadership. She is therefore able to base all 
of her ideas on years of meticulous research, 
and grounds her recommendations in facts 
and studies. This came through in her book, 
as she references study after study that 
support her suggestions. I found myself 
trusting her due to the enormous amount 
of research that she presented as evidence, 
as well as her approachable and genuine 
personal voice. 

“How to Win Friends and Influence 

People” by Dale Carnegie diverged the 
most from the two other books. Carnegie 
suggests psychology-based techniques for 
becoming a more likeable and charismatic 
person, proposing tips on ways to make 
people like you, win people to agree with 
your way of thinking and change people 
without arousing resentment. I felt mildly 
embarrassed to be reading this book, feeling 
like I was being given insider information on 
how to trick people into liking me. 

In every book, I noticed the author’s 

experiences 
and 
background 
subtly 

intertwining 
themselves 
with 
their 

recommendation for how others could 
transform their lives. They viewed the 
world through the lenses of their own lives, 
and as a result, their conclusions included 
ideas that might not work for everyone. 
For example, Brenée Brown spoke a lot 
about her perfectionistic tendencies and 

how to mitigate them. Personally, I am 
not a perfectionist, so this portion of the 
book went entirely over my head. Manson, 
meanwhile, recounted his experiences 
dropping everything to travel the world, 
something I have always dreamed of doing. 
His findings were extremely interesting 
and clearly life-altering for him; however, 
his methods may not be the most suitable 
for everyone. Carnegie gave advice based 
on psychological techniques on how to 
make others like you. For me this did not 
resonate, as some of the strategies that 
Carnegie suggested seemed manipulative 
and underhanded to me. 

Reading these three wildly different 

books helped me understand that self-help 
books are not one-size-fits-all. Each book 
was a bestseller and incredibly popular 
among readers, and yet I had extremely 
different reactions to each one. I ended 
up picking and choosing the ideas that 
fit my own life and disregarding the rest. 
My struggles may not be the same as the 
authors’, and so it only makes sense that 
some of the techniques that helped them 
may not be as beneficial to my own life. 

COMMUNITY CULTURE PROFILE
Community culture artist profile: Kaitlyn Bondoni

The first thing LSA senior Kailyn 

Bondoni learned about poetry was that it 
rhymes. The second was that haikus existed. 
The third was that free verse also existed, 
which, in turn, erased the first lesson she 
learned.

Bondoni’s journey to artistic expression, 

particularly in poetry, began in her fourth 
grade classroom. Her teacher read and 
recited “Where the Sidewalk Ends” by Shel 
Silverstein. 

“He had this book fully marked up,” 

Bondoni told The Daily. “Then he just 
recited it from memory and spoke so fast. 
It was so intriguing and terrifying for some 
reason but like cool. Like when you say, ‘oh, 
you fear God’: that was this man. So much 
poetic power.” 

After Shel Silverstein came angst-driven 

poems in middle school and poems to aid 
emotional processing in high school. At the 

University, her time in the Lloyd Scholars 
for Writing and the Arts (LSWA) and her 
creative writing classes exposed her to the 
wider spectrum of poetry’s possibilities. 

“I originally thought of free verse and 

not having to rhyme as freedom,” Bondoni 
said. “Forms or rhyme scheme is its own 
challenge and talent that I don’t think I had 
enough respect for until coming into college 
and actually trying it.”

Now, Bondoni double majors in Film, TV 

and Media Studies and English with a sub-
concentration in Creative Writing, alongside 
minors in Writing and Environment. Her 
long list of interests pushed her to discover 
poetry’s playful malleability. 

Early in college, Bondoni took English 

223: Introduction to Creative Writing on a 
whim. Her LSA professor, Joseph Mahoney, 
encouraged her to pursue the poetry track 
of the English major’s creative writing 
concentration. This year, she will take 
English 428, the creative writing capstone, 
to finish her concentration. There, Bondoni 
hopes to write a poetry collection that traces 

her changing poetry and style over time, 
capturing her experiences from that fourth 
grade classroom to the present. 

LSWA also exposed Bondoni to poetry 

performance. She recalled her first reading 
as “an experience and a half,” full of shaking 
hands and shallow breaths. But by the end 
of her freshman year, poetry performance 
became a playful experience for her, an 
opportunity for laughter. At one memorable 
event, she donned a winter trapper hat and 
sunglasses and enlisted a friend to play the 
bongos from the Donkey Kong game.

“I think that was kind of the turning point 

where I was like, ‘okay, it’s not something 
that I have to be nervous for because I’m 
expressing,’” she said. “It can also just be a 
release of tension.”

That artistic release provides a welcome 

relief from the flurry of emotions that 
college brings. 

“It’s a good way of figuring out what 

I’m feeling,” Bondoni said. “In college you 
meet people and you’re thrown around 
emotionally. College is a washing machine 

that you have no control over; you are the 
last sock in the washing machine. As that 
sock, I find that poetry helps me kind of 
surface.” 

Though poetry may seem divergent 

or even in opposition to the visual nature 
of her Film degree, Bondoni finds their 
marriage in screenwriting. The first time 
that she fully saw the connection was 
actually over Twitter, when someone 
tweeted screenshots from Greta Gerwig’s 
“Little Women” script. The director is one of 
Bondoni’s biggest inspirations. 

“The way that she writes her action lines 

and the script itself was beautiful. Some 
of the lines just sounded poetic with just 
a couple of analogies and metaphors that 
would really allow an actor to sink their 
teeth into the script,” she said.

Bondoni 
realized 
that 
this 
poetic 

approach allows screenwriters to leave 
their creative mark. She quickly gravitated 
toward TV writing — “There’s so much 
more room for character development in 
there,” she said. “You can really see so many 

different angles, multiple characters, and 
that really is so attractive to me.” 

The playfulness of her poetry is not lost 

along the way: Finding shows that combine 
both heartfelt and comedic elements greatly 
appeals to her. Bill Hader’s “Barry” hit the 
right combination. 

“Shows like that really inspire me to try 

to write more of a real story with comedic 
elements. I think that’s really the target 
I’m planning to land on aiming for,” said 
Bondoni. 

Though asking a senior about their post-

graduation plans can often cause anxiety, 
Bondoni knows that the film industry path, 
though challenging, is one she’ll continue 
chasing. She plans on moving to Los Angeles 
and holding onto her current screenwriting 
internship as long as possible. 

BOOKS NOTEBOOK

EMMA DOETTLING

Daily Arts Writer

Read more online at 

michigandaily.com

Read more online at 

michigandaily.com

Read more online at 

michigandaily.com

