In the Heights

In the Heights

Jon M Chu (2021)

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s musical was first produced on the Broadway stage in 2008.  The Heights are Washington Heights in Upper Manhattan.  The residents are Latinos, most from a Dominican background.  The music, according to a piece on the BBC Global News website, ‘takes its cues from the diverse Latin community it represents, infusing hip-hop, salsa, merengue and soul music into the score and with lyrics about love, life, community and the American dream’.  Critically well received (95% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes from well over 300 reviews), In the Heights has so far disappointed at the box office.  Six weeks on from its North American release, the film has taken a little over $40m; Variety reckons it’ll need worldwide takings in the region of $200m to recoup its aggregate production and marketing budget.  (I don’t understand the arithmetic – those two budgets, according to Wikipedia, were $55m and $50m respectively.)

Quiara Alegria Hudes’ screenplay (adapted from her book for the Broadway show) attests to the durability of venerable musical theatre and movie precepts – you’ve got to have a dream, there’s no place like home – though these are sometimes given a right-on twist.  The young protagonist, Usnavi (Anthony Ramos), runs a local bodega but wants to move to the Dominican Republic and reopen his late father’s beachside bar there.  Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), on whom Usnavi has an (at first) unrequited crush, has ambitions of becoming a high-end fashion designer in downtown New York.  Nina (Leslie Grace) is already a student at Stanford University.  An Ivy League education as a passport from the Heights to the good life is soon revealed as an assumption and a longing on the part of her father Kevin (Jimmy Smits) rather than of Nina herself.  She’s angry when he sells his taxi firm in order to pay her tuition fees and means to quit her studies until she learns that Usnavi’s teenage cousin Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV), who wants to go to college, can’t do so because he’s an undocumented immigrant.   Nina determines to return to Stanford with the aim of improving the life chances of kids like Sonny.  I wasn’t sure what course she’d be taking to make this happen.

In contrast to the real demographics of Washington Heights, there are hardly any darker-skinned performers in evidence, hence the complaints of ‘colorism’ the film has sparked (and for which Lin-Manuel Miranda has publicly apologised).  Senior citizens are hardly less conspicuous by their absence.  There’s just Kevin and ‘Abuela’ Claudia (Olga Merediz, who also played the role on Broadway), the neighbourhood matriarch who raised Usnavi after his parents died.  He continues to be indebted to her.  After Claudia passes away (a big number), Usnavi discovers that she bought from the bodega a winning lottery ticket and left it to him.  He uses the jackpot to help Sonny become a properly accredited American citizen.

The predominantly young cast works immensely hard.  Anthony Ramos, in particular, has charm as well as talent.  I felt guilty for wanting it to end but hi-energy, in-your-face In the Heights is exhausting, thanks to a combination of stunningly unnuanced direction from Jon M Chu (Crazy Rich Asians) and gruesome music.  The definition of the latter that I quoted above is presumably accurate.  If I had to describe it myself, I could only say rap to a Latin beat which, every so often, segues into power-ballad overkill.  The lyrics feature many cute, daft little rhymes.  I’m no fan of opera (grand or pop) but I wondered at the end if this overlong (143-minute) film might have been better sung through.   That way, at least the musical numbers wouldn’t be so salient.  As a result, they might not be so disappointing.

A framing device has Usnavi sitting beside his beachside bar and telling his story to four children.  At the end, it’s revealed that he’s really still in the bodega – there being no place like home and Usnavi having eventually realised that home is Washington Heights.  One of the kids he’s talking to is his and Vanessa’s little daughter, Iris (Olivia Perez).  The actual coastline used as a background throughout these retrospective interludes is suddenly replaced by a seaside vista painted on the walls of the bodega.  This reveal may have worked well on stage.  On film, it seems a bit of a cheat, as well as a letdown.

7 July 2021

Author: Old Yorker