In theaters and streaming exclusively on HBO Max on Friday, June 11
[Rating: Solid Rock Fist Up]
A vibrant, jubilant love letter to multiculturalism, community, hope, and compassion, In the Heights delivers classic Hollywood musical vibes with a 21st century backbone. Adapted from the off-Broadway stage production by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Quiara Alegría Hudes, the film by director Jon M. Chu effortlessly transcribes the rhythm and energy of the original, merging the terrestrial roots of the source material with a dazzling cinematic reimagining. Squeezed a bit tight by a 140-minute runtime that struggles to give each of the half dozen leads a full arc, the film manages to slide by on a charming earnestness that accomplishes just enough to do the larger tapestry justice.
Like a tapestry, the story weaves in multiple strands of characters who all reside in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Upper Manhattan, where a bodega owner named Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) acts as a nexus point for all the residents there. Usnavi runs the corner store with his teenage cousin, Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV), and is across the street from his best friend, Benny (Corey Hawkins), who manages the car service there while the business’ owner, Kevin (Jimmy Smits), struggles to pay for the college tuition of his daughter, Nina (Leslie Grace). Nina has just arrived back in Washington Heights after a rough semester at Standford and is juggling a rekindled romance with Benny along with a tough, running conversation with her dad about school.
Set during the hottest week of the summer, In the Heights follows these competing stories through the lens of Usnavi, who is grappling with a decision that splits him between two competing futures. One of these sees him returning to the Dominican Republic to re-open his father’s beach bar, while the other is pulling on him to stay in the neighborhood where he’s found true community and love in aspiring fashion designer Vanessa (Melissa Barrera). And while the people and their personal drama serve as the skeleton for the narrative, what this movie has to say outstrips anything its characters utter. Concerned with the effects gentrification has on communities, and what it means to be a part of a social network that serves as a surrogate family, the movie examines the importance of being seen, and belonging.
Early in the film, Usnavi prods a group of children to say the words “Washington Heights” out of fear that they might disappear, and it’s a recurring theme of the picture. Whether it is the corner nail salon, Usnavi’s store, or Kevin’s car service: everything seems to be in danger of getting priced out by strangers with deep pockets and no connection to the neighborhood. The musical numbers of the picture don’t just celebrate the pan-Latin composition of Washington Heights and the pride of the locals there, they also lament the fact that it is vanishing. Usnavi’s struggle over whether to go back to his roots or remain in a place that seems to be disappearing beneath his feet represents a larger social struggle that asks many people whether they want to cash in or tab out.
In the Heights doesn’t live in a bubble, though, and while the outside world rarely encroaches upon this enclave, the film isn’t afraid to confront the ugliness of what happens when someone tries to venture out. Whether it is a rejected apartment rental application or a racist search for stolen property, these moments haunt the characters, and remind the audience that this isn’t all fantasy: that DACA, chokeholds, and performative allyship inform this story. The tone isn’t one of grievance, however, but of pride and celebration, about perseverance, about neighborhood cohesion and all the joy associated with being a member of a true community that is made complete by its differences rather than divided by them.
Musically, In the Heights has the tempo and rhythm of Newsies crossed with La La Land, eschewing more classic models like West Side Story or Guys and Dolls. Infused with the hip-hop freestyle cadence Miranda made famous with Hamilton (which the original production predates), fans of that historical Broadway phenomenon will find a lot to like, here. The nimble dexterity of the alliteration domination that captivated a nation is alive and well in the picture, which does cut a number of songs from the musical book, yet still feels a bit overstuffed and undercooked at times. Some plotlines and resolutions, like Sonny’s, feel a bit rushed, though most find just enough runway to land their emotional flights.
Chu has a capable lead in Ramos, who predictably nails the song and dance portions, but also manages the drama with deft ease. While some of the cast translate to the screen better than others (a couple are still playing for the back row, here), Ramos manages to straddle the format, keeping his feet planted on both the stage and screen. Slick visual effects also garnish the overall presentation yet never threaten to unbalance the overall tone, which remains light and energetic throughout. These moments add to the texture of the setting, which is undeniably New York right down to the bedrock, yet in less capable hands, they might have overshadowed the rich social text underpinning the larger effort.
Overflowing with an optimistic joy rooted in the power of community and standing tall in defiance to a world that is squeezing the very thing that In the Heights champions, the film dares its audience to celebrate the invisible. In a world where generations of history evaporate every day to make room for yet another Whole Foods or Starbucks, In the Heights asks audiences to reexamine what they’re losing with each new community “improvement,” and grapples with what it means to buy in. Visually arresting and stocked with a raft of musical numbers that challenge each other for some of the best of the last decade, the film is more than just a victory lap for Miranda, who is the king of the genre at the moment, it is a love letter to diversity and community, proving that America is indeed a, “great unfinished symphony.”
“Obvious Child” is the debut novel of Warren Cantrell, a film and music critic based out of Seattle, Washington. Mr. Cantrell has covered the Sundance and Seattle International Film Festivals, and provides regular dispatches for Scene-Stealers and The Playlist. Warren holds a B.A. and M.A. in History, and his hobbies include bourbon drinking, novel writing, and full-contact kickboxing.
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