After a year-long delay spurred by the pandemic, the dazzling new musical In the Heights, an adaptation of Hamilton creator Lin-Manuel Miranda’s breakout Broadway hit, is now finally on HBO Max. Directed by virtuoso filmmaker John M. Chu and penned by Quiara Alegría Hude, the writer of the original show’s book, this invigorating, splashy summertime toe-tapper is the cinematic event of the summer.
The opening moments initiate the film’s rich introspection with a wistful, clever framing device. “What does sueñito mean?” a young girl inquires of Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) as he sits in a gorgeous, scenic beachside bar with a group of small children. He regally replies that it means “little dream” before he sets the stage for a grand tale of triumphs and sorrows for the Latinx community in the New York City neighborhood of Washington Heights, where “the streets are made of music” (and you will believe it with transporting, inventive spectacle; a manhole cover spins like a turntable, to say the least). What ensues is a sprawling, buoyant narrative of cultural resiliency in the face of overwhelming adversity.
Washington Heights is a neighborhood whose identity is being tragically whittled down by gentrification with Latinx immigrants displaced from their home countries pursuing their dreams in the process. After running a local street-corner bodega and community staple for years with his cousin Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV), Usnavi yearns to return to the Dominican Republic to reopen his father’s bar. He insists to the neighborhood matriarch Abuela Claudia (Olga Merediz) that this new endeavor will be a “labor of love” rather than a rote menial job that he and the rest of the community have been relegated to for far too many years.
In the Heights is certainly a grand and sweeping story, but it mostly maintains momentum by steeping its characters in earnest authenticity and incisive subtext. Usnavi forges a swoon-worthy relationship with Vanessa (Melissa Berrera), who wants to move downtown to become a fashion designer but is inhibited by gatekeeping, and their burgeoning romance also encapsulates the conflict at the narrative’s center of fulfilling one’s aspirations while appreciating community and home.
“We are not powerless. We are powerful,” salon owner Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega) poignantly reflects, even though rising rents are forcing her to relocate to the Bronx. In tandem with Vanessa, Nina (Leslie Grace) unfortunately feels the former. Suffering through her first semester at elite school Stanford, she feels isolated from her beloved culture and is considering dropping out because of casual racism and economic constraints. Her loving yet slightly oblivious father Kevin (Jimmy Smits) projects on her the collective weight of the neighborhood’s dreams as “the one who got out” and even sells half his storefront to fund her education.
This richly drawn, eclectic set of full-bodied individuals forms a kaleidoscopic tapestry of the Latinx-immigrant experience, skillfully conceptualized by substantive songs originally written by Miranda. It’s a film brimming with life, affection and pride that moves with the grace of a New York breeze yet sizzles with the unfettered energy of its sweltering-hot summer setting. Even though it could be a bit more concise, it sensitively and meticulously reflects life in every frame to maximize its life-affirming message, so even that feels mostly justified as it successfully attains a maximalist style, bolstered by sharply rhythmic editing, explosive cinematography and gorgeously detailed costume and production design.
With this and Crazy Rich Asians, Chu has also proven himself as a connoisseur of the big studio picture, combining populist sensibilities with egrossing dramatic and emotional texture. His direction is exuberant, vivid and vibrant, employing a vast array of camerawork that feels completely cohesive, while also masterfully capturing the intimacy and vulnerability of these characters. Everything is so utterly assured from the emotive close-ups framed through shelves or glass doors to the wide shots scintillating with propulsive choreography. He successfully translates stage theatrics to something so innately cinematic, whether it is fabric descending down buildings like tears in “It Won’t Be Long Now,” colorful pool-side framing to visualize the message in “96,000,” or Nina and her love interest Benny (Corey Hawkins) dancing on the side of an apartment structure in “When the Sun Goes Down.” Chu was simply born to helm musicals with sensibilities this kinetic and lively.
This is also one of the most robust casts of any film in recent years. I seldom view a movie where not a single performer misses any beat. Ramos anchors the film as its poised lead and simply radiates charisma and pathos; he’s astronomical. Grace and Berrera deliver incandescent, star-making performances, and stage veteran Merediz has a haunting yet uplifting showstopper entitled “Paciencia Y Fe” that fully showcases her panorama of raw emotions, ranging from catharsis to remorse to jubilance.
That phrase “paciencia y fe,” which means “patience and faith,” reverberates throughout the incredibly euphoric and downright profound In the Heights. It’s not only a patience and faith but also a loyalty to the places, people and even things that form us on a deeper, more spiritual level. Idealistic dreams are not feasible and definitely not given to us: Instead, we must form beauty from what we have, adjusting it along the way. In the Heights seamlessly transports us to a realistic yet fantastically mesmerizing place where that always perseveres in even the darkest of times- one where the fire hydrants rain heavenly showers, wall graffiti produces breathtaking mosaics and the screeches of the train ring angelic. It is a transcendent experience wrought with ingenuity intended for exclusively the big screen- an awe-inspiring whirlwind of boisterous, indelible discoveries of meaning in its people’s specificities, strife and, ultimately, strength.
Grade: A
In the Heights is now available on HBO Max.
Photo Credit / Warner Brothers
