Movie Review of In the Heights
I stepped into a movie theater for the first time in over a year last Sunday. Since my family and I are vaccinated—and safe at any speed—we decided to step out and see a movie. We chose In the Heights, the film production Lin Manuel Miranda’s Tony-winning hit musical. The film was playing at the Avalon, a beautifully restored 1920s Milwaukee movie palace featuring beautifully ornate Moorish architecture complemented with Byzantian ornamentation. It’s also an atmospheric theater, designed to emulate the experience of being outdoors, and features a ceiling filled with tiny flickering lights—stars. This venue also has all the latest features, including large recliner-type seats with pull-out dining tables, a full menu, and a state-of-the-art sound system. It’s a beautiful space.
The reason I bring this up is that I’ve been watching movies, (everything from intimate rom-coms to epic cast-of-thousands productions) exclusively on a forty-inch screen for the past year. Seeing a film, especially a sensory extravaganza like In the Heights, on a gigantic screen with a heart-stopping sound system was a bit of a shock. It was big. It was an event. It was the difference between being chased by a dachshund or a pit bull.
After the viewing, while pondering this review, the Spud was trying to figure out how much of his impression of the film was influenced by the venue, and—to a greater point—how much of a film’s impact depends on its presentation. How would I have reacted had I decided to stay home and watch the movie on streaming video and not been inserted into a sensory bombardment of light, color, and sound?
In the Heights is nothing short of fantastic. It is also, in a time when our society is (finally) closely examining issues of marginalization and equity, very timely. It couldn’t be more so. The story follows members of New York City’s Washington Heights Spanish-speaking community. Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) is a young Dominican whose dream is to sell the family bodega and move back to his family’s original home in the Caribbean. Vanessa, (Melissa Barrera) dreams of moving to a new neighborhood and pursuing her dream of being a fashion designer. Nina (Leslie Grace) the pride of the neighborhood, has already gotten out, all the way to Stanford, but is experiencing doubts about life on the outside. These doubts are compounded by her father’s determination to get her—at all costs—a quality education. That is his dream.
Suenitos, Spanish for little dreams, is a recurring motif in the movie, an auspicious coincidence considering the plight of the real-life American dreamers, which this film addresses. Sonny, (Gregory Diaz IV) Usnavi’s young and street-smart protégé, dreams of being able to stay and study in the United States but—under Trump’s harsh immigration policies—could very possibly be deported. Even Daniela, the owner of the local beauty shop, is moving out of the Heights, although not by choice. The rent is going up.
Everyone has a dream in this film, and everyone—seemingly—wants to get out of the Heights despite the obvious camaraderie and fellowship in the neighborhood, a bonhomie that explodes like a Roman candle from every frame. From the beginning number “In the Heights” that introduces the characters and the neighborhood to “96,000” an exuberant and hilarious tour de force number about the lottery (complete with Busby Berkeley-influenced choreography) that takes place in the local pool to the extravagant fireworks that illuminate the neighborhood during “Blackout”, the movie bursts with enthusiasm, wit, and life.
This is a celebration and a vindication of a culture that has been ostracized and forced to the margins of society but is unwilling to stay in the shadows. As Abuelita Claudia says when showing Nina her hand-stitched napkins, “Little details tell the world you’re not invisible” and “We had to assert our dignity in small ways”; this is how a cultural identity is kept and preserved—in the heart.
The movie is an exhilarating non-stop energetic thrill ride full of color, music, and joie de vivre. It opens as Usnavi sits on a beach telling a group of children the story of Washington Heights—“Say it so it doesn’t disappear”—and introduces him, his friend Benny who works for Mr. Rosario (Jimmy Smits), Nina’s dad, and Sonny. It is summer in the Heights—hot and getting hotter. Vanessa, Usnavi’s major crush, comes in the bodega, and we see what an innocent he truly is.
Nina, the prodigal daughter, returns home from Stanford, unsure whether she is on the right track and sings the plaintive “Breathe”. Meanwhile, Daniela, the owner of the local beauty shop, has to move because of rising rent. They welcome her back, bombarding her with questions “No Me Diga”.
Vanessa interviews for a job as a designer outside the neighborhood but loses out to a white girl. She also applies for an apartment but cannot afford it. In the meantime, Abuelita Claudia, the matriarch to the neighborhood, the moral and cultural hub to the people that love her, reflects on her own past experiences moving to the Heights from Cuba.
The film’s production values are phenomenal. The screen is constantly filled with motion, sound, color: life. John Chui’s (Crazy Rich Asians) direction and editing barely gives the viewer room to breathe. Several of the musical numbers, including “96,000” and “When the Sun Goes Down” pay tribute to some of the music iconic MGM musical traditions. The actors, particularly Ramos and Barrera, shine. Barrera’s voice is a revelation. Leslie Grace, as Nina, plays her character to perfection. She is vulnerable, unsure, young, and yet conveys a surprising toughness. Lin-Manuel Miranda, who originated the role of Usnavi on Broadway, plays Piraguero, the piragua guy who confronts his nemesis, Mr. Softee, in a hilarious scene.
In many ways, In the Heights is a typical musical; there is one—no, two—love stories, misunderstandings, revelations, sacrifices, and tragedy. It is an exuberant, feel-good experience, that, of course, has a happy ending. But this film is also about the ongoing cultural battle for respect, dignity, and equality in an inequitable and unjust society. It is a great summer movie, full of laughs and color and movement, but it is also a testament to a culture’s toughness, resilience, and determination.
Almost everyone dreams of getting out of Washington Heights, but the truth is that dreams start in the heart and the heart in this movie is in—and will always be—in the Heights.
Michaeldimilo.com