Dreams and Details: In the Heights
The opening number of Jon M. Chu’s In the Heights presents a scene from another time. Dozens of residents of Washington Heights, in upper Manhattan, emerge from their apartments, pop-in to bodegas and head to work on the streets of New York City — without masks.
The film was slated for release in June of 2020. It was put into a confined suspension, like much of the world, because of the coronavirus pandemic. The city of New York, which, for the purposes of this piece, will be referred to as “Nueva York”, partnered with the Tribeca Film Festival to simultaneously screen the film in outdoor cinemas located in each borough. While Broadway’s lights remain dark, the premier was one of many events intended to kick-start the city’s cultural engine.
Chu’s film is a kinetic and exuberant block party, rewarding to Nueva Yorkers and others alike. It’s drenched in saturated colors and packed with arresting song and dance numbers, relevant social commentary and warm relationships. Chu’s maximalist adaptation is a worthy expression of Lin Manuel Miranda’s Tony-winning musical, another smash-hit property for Miranda. After more than a year of pandemic isolation that deprived people the pleasure of mass communal movie watching, In The Heights is the spectacular penicillin that can draw the masses from their worn couches and re-embrace the energy of shared experience.
The story follows the interweaving threads of young inhabitants of “El Barrio”, which means “the neighborhood”, that comprise a small but vital swatch of the neighborhood’s colorful tapestry over the course of a summer. Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) plans on moving to the Dominican Republic to care for a dilapidated beach property he inherited. His crush Vanessa (Melissa Barrera) is a fashion designer looking for a change to cure her lack of inspiration. Their relationship is aided by Usnavi’s assertive younger cousin Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV). Nina (Leslie Grace) returns from a semester at Stamford University unsure if she will continue in the fall. Nina’s arrival is celebrated by her admirer Benny (Corey Hawkins) who works at the taxi service run by her father Kevin (King Jimmy Smits). They, and much of the neighborhood, are cared for by Abuela Claudia (Olga Merediz). The Barrio is jolted by the news of a winning lotto ticket that was purchased at Usnavi’s bodega and an extended blackout.
Dreams are the blood of the story, or as the film referrers to it a “sueñito”. They drive the characters, providing hope, determination and conflict. Usnavi dreams of the Dominican Republic, Kevin dreams of a better life for Nina and Vanessa dreams of being a successful designer.
I admit that despite my effusive views on the film, I was suffering from an extended bout of Miranda-fatigue. The enormous success of Hamilton and opportunities that followed were overwhelming to me. Lin-Manuel Miranda and his earnestness was an inescapable force in culture, particularly in New York City. The numerous Hamilton references grew old. He popped up as a songwriter for Disney’s Moana and host on Saturday Night Live. I couldn’t even escape to cynical mainstay Curb Your Enthusiasm without him as a season defining plot point. His embrace by the Obamas thrust him further into the national conversation, which lead to the nadir of his omnipresence, the infamous “Tim Kane in the membrane” performance. I was buried in Miranda and the final shovel of dirt was the Moana-induced Disney+ production of the Hamilton stage play.
In the Heights acted a refresher of his remarkable talent. It is his work showing me how capable he is and not the echoes of that sentiment reverberating throughout culture. Miranda’s breathless lyrical style blended with classic musical flourishes and percussive, brass-heavy Latin music is kind of undeniable when presented with piragua-fueled cameras and editing.
For In the Heights to be successfully put on the screen, it needed to be directed by someone with the Step Up sequels and a dance background on their resume. Film adaptations of stage works can be stifled in their use of editing, cameras and settings. They can amount simply to the view from multiple seats rather than the one stated on a ticket. Chu and his cinematographer Alice Brooks make the most of their tools to provide a true cinematic experience. Their cameras engage with the dancers and the world around them.
The opening number is an effective “status quo” statement that energizes the beginning of the film like a cup of coffee with sugar and condensed milk. We meet and fall in love with the story’s main characters and are given a tour of El Barrio. The quick pan to the title that ends the sequence received applause from the Tribeca audience.
Fantasy sequences are given surreal treatments. Abuela Clauida tells the haunting journey of El Barrio’s ancestors from the Caribbean to upper Manhattan, all of which is presented like a Johnathan Glazer music video in the subway tunnels of Nueva York. While Nina and Benny’s number is like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire in Inception (Christopher Nolan’s film about a dream heist).
The salon sequence is peppered with visual jokes, such as reactive wig mannequins, that land successfully. The 96,000 sequence that moves the dancing to the water is dazzling and, indeed, refreshing. None of the musical scenes falter.
The gem in this sparkling crown is the Carnival del Barrio sequence that is the thesis-as-performance of the film. Confined in the walls of an apartment complex, the energy on display reflects the resilience, passion and pride of the denizens of Washington Heights.
Chu proved himself a capable packager of ensemble talent, particularly within a given culture. His previous hit, Crazy Rich Asians, presented its actors in a beautiful and enjoyable film. Though he received some criticism, Chu was largely praised for casting a major studio release with predominantly Asian actors. Chu himself is of Taiwanese and Sichuan descent.
He successfully translated the importance of culturally appropriate casting to the Latin community as he populated El Barrio. His young players are all beautiful but still read as real people. He displays them just as attractively as his Crazy Rich Asians actors but doesn’t ask too much from them. Granted the added task of song and dance performance is an impressive feat, Chu doesn’t challenge the cast much and, in effect, doesn’t pull anything surprising from them.
“Little details tell the world we’re not invisible,” says Abuela Claudia. If the musical sequences are a delicious cake, Chu and his team’s loving attention to detail is no doubt the delicate frosting. The film is ripe with references to Latin culture and live in Nueva York but none of it feels alienating.
Usnavi’s bodega on the corner of Audubon and 175th Street looks and feels like one that could be stumbled into all over the city. While soundstages were used, the emphasis on location shooting goes a long way. Highbridge Park pool was used for the 90,000 sequence and real MTA trains are employed wherever possible. The constant presence of the George Washington Bridge looms over much of the film, a constant reminder of the transitional nature of the city. In Nina and Benny’s dance sequence, Nina reaches out and collects the familiar moisture droppings from a window air conditioning unit in her hand.
A scene where many of the characters gather for a dinner displays Abuela Claudia’s food as if it were a Netflix culinary series. The scene is warm and full of joy as the characters pile food onto their plates with bottles of Jarritos standing ready to be deployed in the background. The Carnival del Barrio sequence is a celebration of the many countries whose descendants now call themselves New Yorkers.
A big-little detail is the scale. The sheer amount of extras and dancers employed is worthy of praise and adulation in a world of CGI human fillers.
At times, the nuance these details bring is attenuated by some of the film’s rote dialogue, repetitive sentiments and glossed treatment of its weightier elements. Vanessa’s self-effacement is at one point expressed by telling Usnavi she just works at a nail salon and that there are thousands of people like her. Similarly, Nina calms herself by declaring she needs to “listen to her block” as she silently takes in the sounds going on around her.
The blackout is repeatedly used to allude to the disappearing neighborhood, as friends and businesses are priced out. “Just because we don’t have power doesn’t mean we are powerless,” is used several times to diminishing returns.
Though ham-fisted dialogue and heart-on-sleeve sentiment is not out of the ordinary for musicals, it seems at odds with the naturalistic elements the production has clearly gone through much trouble to provide. A protest scene reads as small with the style of the Kendall Jenner Pepsi ad.
Those socially relevant notes are ultimately what makes this good musical great. The film was produced during the heart of the Trump administration, a time that heightened the threat to all marginalized social groups. Nina’s outsider status at the Ivy League institution contributed to her reluctance to return to school. She reveals she was the victim of several microaggressions including being mistaken for a waiter at a school function and being searched when her white roommate misplaced her pearl necklace and accused Nina of stealing it.
When Vanessa travels to the chic West Village to apply for an apartment, she emerges from the Astor Place train station to a sea of white faces. Her meticulously prepared application is still look upon with doubt by the realtor. Vanessa needs to find a co-signer to guarantee a lease on the $3,500 apartment on W. 4th Street. As she shrinks away, an affluent white couple arrives to view the apartment.
Sonny reveals himself as an undocumented immigrant, a “Dreamer”, an unfortunately perceived fault that explains his overcompensating animated gusto.
It’s remarkable that a fun and joyous musical sequence in the salon is preceded by the mention of “conquistadors, slave ships and genocide” but this is the magic of In the Heights and what makes it special. The story of lovers is inextricable from their societal struggles. The ugliness is not merely alluded to, it is given its own spotlight. In an age where on screen musicals seem synony-mouse with Disney, who avoid social issues with all their might, this film stands tall in the space they leave. Disney’s shallow attempts at cultural reverence appear as they are — insincere, sanitized exploitation of undeserved cultural markets.
In the Heights shines in its novelty as a large scale musical when films like that were left in the dust of the American New Wave. It borrows from that reactionary movement in its cultural relevance. Where La La Land was fun pastiche (yeah, I thought it was fun) In the Heights supports the playful nature of musicals with a platform of real plight. This is a movie that deserves to be seen big and loud and in a room full of people. It is wasted on a streaming service. My sueñito is that everyone sees this in their local movie theater.
