Did the pandemic create a new tradition: the summer blockbuster musical? The summer of 2020 brought us the recorded live musical performance of Hamilton on Disney+. The summer of 2021 gives us the film adaptation of another Tony Award winning with music and lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda, In the Heights, with Quiara Alegria Hudes, the book’s author, in theaters and briefly on HBO Max.
In the Heights shows Usnavi, a Dominican Republic immigrant and bodega owner, telling a story about a handful of Washington Heights’ residents’ dreams to four children in the present. Most of the film depicts this story. In this story, Usnavi’s dream is to return home. Nina, a first-generation college student, rejects her dream. Vanessa aspires to be a fashion designer and live in Manhattan. Meanwhile the older generations try to keep the next generation’s dreams and community alive while struggling to survive gentrification with mixed results.
In the Heights’ characters are relatable and affable, but the film had some pacing issues at a challenging and noticeable one hundred forty-three-minute run time. I am unfamiliar with the original production, but the story’s trajectory was uneven with the transition from one individual story’s to the next. While I understand that Usnavi makes sense as the focal character since he interacts with everyone, he was not the most interesting one. Also there is a point in the story where he is a complete jerk, and I could not really root for him to achieve one of his goals for the other person’s sake since his interactions with that person was the only time that he acted horribly. He felt like a “nice guy.” Visually the film seems to concur because when it depicts characters in love, they are the only moments of physics defying whimsy with injections of a shared illustrated, imaginary world.
Can we get Daniela to be the narrator of In the Heights instead? The hair salon as an instinctual, vibrant site for a musical appears in films such as Blindspotting and implicitly in School Daze (missed opportunity). Daniela is the person who ties the past to the present then points the way to the future of adjusting to the challenges of gentrification. She is the one who acts practically to keep the dreams of others’ alive while Usnavi gets the credit. While I loved the visual transformation of his surroundings and the bodega to reflect how Usnavi’s identity and dream changes, I would have preferred a stable narrator with a sense of history whose surroundings may change, but she is still the same at her core. The women already occupy most of the storylines so Usnavi’s place as the narrator does not fit. Men feel more like the supporting characters. Also she finds a way to create community despite the loss of proximity, an issue that every character confronts.
While In the Heights tackled quotidian financial struggles, the story played fast and loose with the consequences of certain characters’ decisions to get to a happy ending. In the first act, the financial health of one character to the dreams of another are intricately tied to sacrifice; however, in the final act, the dreams are recalibrated and somehow seem to jeopardize neither. It feels like cheating. Usnavi’s father’s bar in the Dominican Republic costs money. Buying and selling property, especially on a hurricane torn island, takes time. Plane tickets cost money. Nina’s tuition costs money. Signing a lease comes with at least a year’s worth of financial commitments. These are not casual commitments that can be cancelled or chosen without having a deep effect on these character’s lives. Even cancelling some appointments have financial penalties. One character declines dry cleaning when she sees the cost yet we don’t see these characters consistently weigh the cost of choosing people over practicality. During the blackout, no one complains about the refrigerated and frozen food loss. These details ground a high-flying musical.
While In the Heights emphasizes the community’s close ties, it is still New York. In the Heights does feel like a flatter, Disneyfied version of New York where you can hand someone $96,000 and trust that they are not going to rip you off. Feel free to ask me who hurt you, but no. The course correction from West Side Story overshoots. The tone would shift from foreboding then evaporate into a small-town love fest which strained my ability to suspend disbelief. I too trust immigrants and people of color since I came from one and am the other, but still….In all of the blackout scenes, the idea that none of the women even seemed slightly concerned as they walked down dark alleys and leisurely strolled secure in their safety felt highly unrealistic. I know that showing this reality would disrupt the idyllic nature of this community which the story creates, but anyone could love and trust their community while simultaneously showing a crumb of caution. At least with gentrification, new dangers would emerge. Maybe Brock Turner bought a unit nearby.
When In the Heights dares to show a single dissolute character, it adheres to respectability politics. The camera lingers on his *gasp* tattoos. Remember that this musical takes place in the twenty-first century. I thought that we no longer demonized people with tattoos, but the stigma stands. An unrecognizable Marc Anthony paints some much needed pathos into the disillusioned immigrant story. While a character judges him for his alcohol use and his parenting style, Anthony’s performance humanizes the stereotype and claims the sympathy that normally only goes to opioid addicts for his character by schooling his critic on the reality of what he must face and the hopeless legacy that he unintentionally passed to his son.
In the Heights excels at recognizing that immigrants’ struggles are the precise source of inspiration for artistic achievement and community unity. Even the trajectory of the local graffiti artist becomes redeemed as people depart from a Eurocentric concept of art and beauty to a more inclusive one. There is a Wizard of Oz arc to the story that feels comforting in its predictability. The unspoken question of achievement is who sets the standard. I never considered piragua and Mister Softee to be mutually exclusive or competition, but they are targeting the same consumer; however, the purveyors are neighbors. Gentrification comes in many forms. Navigating this conflict while wanting both to succeed created a nuanced tension which I would have enjoyed further exploration. What does survival and success mean for two immigrants who are on the spectrum between assimilation and preservation? Stay for a post-credits scene!
While In the Heights deserves kudos for depicting authentic immigrant characters in an urban setting, its discomfort with exploring the natural consequences of their actions and demand for a happy ending undercut the film’s authenticity. While the scenarios are relatable and recognizable, the outcome aggressively makes everything rose-colored and as much of a lie as what attracted the immigrants to leave their origin country. While it is far removed from toxic positivity, it is missing the hard-edged survival skills of immigrants particularly in New York. I need Donnie Yen to have coffee with Miranda.
