West Side Story

There are a lot of things about Steven Spielberg's new musical West Side Story that struck me after my first (and probably not last) visit to the cinema. Surprisingly not so much in terms of narrative, with Steven more or less alternating the perspectives of several key characters and subplots in a simple variation on Romeo and Juliet. At first I rather enjoyed the way in which the musical form is handled and how the musical numbers do not just drag out the runtime but serve the smooth unfolding of the story. Much of the film uses the genre of the musical as a diversion and embellishment rather than the main framework, which we see right away in the amazing opening sequence, featuring an inhospitable New York ghetto and two antagonistic cliques/sub-worlds – only the subtle drumming and whistling evokes a catchy rhythm, to which the camera movement and dance choreography adapts without being lavish and self-centred, but thoughtfully duplicating some action or movement of the characters towards some goal. In the opening, for example, the characters jump a fence, converge from all sides and engage in a street brawl, which takes the form of a carefully staged dance number. In this respect, the declared instability of the fictional world is also interesting, as the surrounding environment clearly does not accept that it is in the middle of a musical story with its own rules. The actors often block traffic or get in the way of passers-by – Spielberg deliberately stages multiple actions in a single take to protect those viewers who are not into dance numbers and singing from boredom and yawning. This changes in the middle of the romantic and melodramatic section, when instead much of the focus is on the singing, deepening emotion and empathy. Even then, the script doesn't let us fall asleep, and the creators make sure that the lyrics somehow develop the characters' feelings, thoughts about social disharmony or other personal motivations. The ending then drops the music altogether and focuses everything on the climax of the story of the three romantically intertwined characters, which does not leave one eye dry. True, the third act with the lengthy duet of the titular female protagonists grinds more than I am willing to accept with Spielberg, and the disarming narrative creativity stems from the individual sequences rather than the slightly lengthier whole. But there are enough admirable positives to tempt you to visit the cinema again. Again, the most creative passages are brilliant – the opening long take is completely immersive, the meeting between Tony and Maria is as magical as it gets, and the king of the film is the condensed parallel convergence to the expected battle between the two gangs. That's when Spielberg fully shows his greatness, and the cross-cutting between several characters whose different moods and expectations easily merge is a display of filmmaking mastery. And this, of course, applies to the audiovisual aspect as a whole, which the filmmakers have played with immensely – Kaminski's cinematography, alternating smooth movement during dancing and in interiors with shakiness in tense scenes, stunning lighting and shadow play, as well as the emphasis on the colour spectrum, clearly separating the two hostile sub-worlds. Fewer and fewer films offer so many appealing and interesting stimuli each year, and though I haven't seen some of the big players yet (or are waiting for us in the case of The Matrix and Paul Thomas Anderson's newcomer), I confidently call for at least four Oscars here (Best Picture and Director very likely, I wouldn't be surprised at all for cinematography and costumes, and maybe even for that perfect retro set design). If you can, go to the cinema – at least for an intimate date, there is perhaps no more appropriate and emotionally versatile film (though as a traditionalist I can't judge). 90 % (12/10/2021) (less) (more)

Well well well, so here we have the dueling of two 1960s teenage youth magazine clubs for the New York slums. One is Polish and the other is Puerto Rican immigrants, all of which kind of doesn't matter because this whole patch of heaven is going to be gentrified by an excavator in a few weeks. Into the mix, reformed delinquent Tony falls for the sister of the gang boss next door, but she's promised to a timid Puerto Rican, and together they plan to disappear, while the rival clubs finally want to give each other a decisive shake with an outcome that will finally settle who's going to be the boss of the neighborhood for the few days before the city lets the place get demolished to shit. All of this is watched by a transsexual from a hiding place. If that's not too many dogs for one rabbit, I don't know what is. I guess the musical is supposed to be able to handle all of this, because all these subplots and subplots are just to motivate those dance and singing parts that we're all surely looking forward to. The reality is that while the dancing parts are truly fabulous, the singing parts are total gulag. So we the film ends up split into two completely different parts: scenes that I could play over and over again, in which impossibly statuesque immigrants jump on anything in the vicinity, fight over a gun, and rebuild a police station in incredible choreography, and scenes where the protagonists rip the proverbial singing shirts off each other in horribly stupid and pathetic duets where the words don't even fit the melodies, but they're trying so vehemently to get the biggest end notes out of the actors, and they're all in unnecessary high notes. It's a pure 5 stars vs. 1 star conflict, so the rating could be budgeted according to how much running time any given scene takes up, but the singing ones number subjectively in the hundreds, and can only be endured by trying to discover where the subconscious motivation for a blowjob is encoded there. And then there are two other contradictory elements. On the good side are the fail-safe anamorphic lenses and the properly lubricated camera crane arms of the best choreographer of them all, Janusz Kaminski. However, his obsession with opposing lights has by now reached such a level that the gunfight scene ends up with two suns shining against each other. Oh, and on the dark side is Ansel Elgort, who I think will be an excellent character actor sometime after he turns 40, when that dramatic look of his can be combined with some sharper features and a more polished delivery. At the moment, unfortunately, he has no charisma. He comes across as a nerd who knows the script backwards from memory, went to singing school six days a week for two years, ate nothing but egg yolks for six months, but doesn't really bring any personality to the film. PS: Ironically, the most sympathetic character in the film is Krupke, the cop who has to keep an eye on those bunch of over-the-top demented dudes, be their angel cop at the dance, and they make fun of him all the time, even though he clearly has a never-voiced sympathy for them. Likewise, the film uncharacteristically defends the penal system because it revolves entirely around a character who has returned after a year in juvie actually reformed and wiser than the others. You wouldn't exactly expect a film like this to side with the system. (04/01/2022) (less) (more)