Broadway musical blockbusters are always a hit-or-miss despite their catchy songs, but In the Heights is definitely a hit to me. The play version of In the Heights is mostly famous for being the musical that helped catapult Hamilton creator Lin-Manuel Miranda into the public sphere. And the 2021 film version, helmed by Crazy Rich Asians director Jon M. Chu, is a triumphant adaptation, confidently reworking the stage show into a gorgeous, vibrant film that captures both the bigness of musical theater and the intimacy that comes with telling a story about a specific culture. In its joyous excess, In the Heights makes a case for adapting Broadway musicals into Hollywood cinema. The musical numbers are freed from the boundaries of the stage, and they don’t waste that freedom. The dance routines feel like gorgeous action-movie set-pieces, thanks to Alice Brooks’ cinematography, and the cast is a constellation of Latinx legends and up-and-comers alike. Every summer should have a movie like this one.
Set mostly across three hot summer days leading up to a blackout, the film follows Usnavi (Anthony Ramos), a young bodega owner running his business with his cousin Sonny (Gregory Diaz). The son of deceased Dominican immigrants, Usnavi wants to return to the country his family is from, close up the bodega, and revive his father’s old beachside bar, but Washington Heights is the only place he’s ever really known. It’s where his friends and neighbors all live, including, most importantly, aspiring fashion designer Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), the girl he’s crushed on for most of his life. Across three days, the audience gets a whirlwind tour of Usnavi’s block and the key players who live there – and more importantly, we learn about their sueñitos. The sueñito – Spanish for “little dream” – is the immigrant experience, a cutesy way of introducing a general audience to the Latin American diaspora and the immense variety within it. The operative word is “little.” The characters of In the Heights don’t want much. Usnavi’s friend best friend Benny (Corey Hawkins), the only non-Hispanic major character, wants to prove himself as a taxi dispatcher. Benny’s boss Kevin Rosario (Jimmy Smits) wants his daughter to be a success, as the first family member to go to college. Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega) is closing her salon and moving it to the Bronx, with her friends and employees Carla (Stephanie Beatriz) and Cuca (Dasha Polanco) not wanting to move. The neighborhood ice cream man (Miranda himself, in a small role that pops up throughout the movie) wants to sell his food free from the tyranny of a white ice cream truck. These are all just sueñitos, you know? They don’t amount to much, but even so, they’re so far away from being realized in the beginning.
Much of the conflict in the film comes from that distance: the knowledge that what people want shouldn’t be so hard to achieve, and yet it is. It’s hard because someone’s always eager to carve the block up, as gentrification raises prices and rents, pressuring the local businesses to fold and sell to wealthy developers. It’s hard because Nina (Leslie James), the Stanford student and pride of the neighborhood, feels like a fraud at an elite university that treats her differently because of her racial background and lack of economic privilege. It’s hard because this is an immigrant community in a country hostile to immigrants, with a system that makes becoming a citizen feel more difficult than winning the lottery. This is the struggle, the common thread tying together a community of people in a city that’s eager to forget them. In the Heights isn’t merely a Latin American story; it’s a New York City story. This a place where Latinx people make up 29% of the population and form the largest non-white ethnic group. That’s a lot of people and a lot of stories, all mostly ignored in popular culture in favor of a romantic vision of NYC where college graduates go to reinvent themselves. The imaginary version of the city where they thrive is one built to cater solely to wealth, which is never shown here.
But In the Heights isn’t a downer at all – as a musical comedy, it’s truly a work of joy and a labor of love, filled with the exuberant movement of people who know these things and sing and dance anyway. The film does its best to speak to its people without conceding too much to an imagined mainstream/majority audience. The lyrics and dialogue are full of Spanglish, only subtitled when absolutely necessary. Latinx heroes like Celia Cruz and Frida Kahlo (who I will hereby always refer to as “Unibrow Art Lady” because of this film) are name-dropped in a cute graffiti-fueled title sequence, but not explained. And bottles of Jarritos and pots of carne guisada get nice close-up shots, but zero exposition.
This is how In the Heights won me and so many viewers over. In spite of its flaws, like lopsided twin romantic subplots where the lead characters are overshadowed by their best friends or cloying lyrics that play on both the literal and figurative meanings of “powerless,” it’s ultimately a work of affection for both its subject and its medium. It’s a celebration of the never-ending struggle that ties immigrant communities together, even for people who come from different islands with different dances and different slang. Because Chu visibly loves musicals, and displays his complete delight with light and color, dance and sound. Everyone has their own version of New York City. Say it, so it doesn’t disappear.
4/5 STARS