Mark Reviews Movies: IN THE HEIGHTS

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 9, 2021

There's a sense of love and joy for the here and now in In the Heights, a slice-of-life musical about a community of immigrants in New York City, of various generations, and from around Latin America. This story doesn't try to do too much, and as a result, director Jon M. Chu's adaptation of Quiara Alegría Hudes and Lin-Manuel Miranda's stage musical does quite a bit.

A different—and, likely, lesser—story featuring these characters in this particular place might try to find or create conflict in or from an assortment of personal, social, and political angles. The neighborhood of Washington Heights is experiencing issues from gentrification, as local businesses, having existed there for years or decades, are pushed out by new ones, and it's almost certain that the rental housing situation of the neighborhood is soon to follow.

Questions of immigration have nearly dominated the political discourse for decades (especially the last four years or so, for decidedly awful reasons), and sure enough, there's a young character here whose immigration status could cause many troubles for him now and in the near future (The musical started an off-Broadway run in 2007, so there's no specific policy, politician, or administration that's the target—just the sad state of the lives and futures of real people being used for a political game). As for the personal side, there are two romances in this story, between two couples separated by immediate and future goals, and if we know anything about such tales of star-crossed love, it's almost certainly that plenty of miscommunication, doubt, and other kinds of melodrama are right there for the taking.

To be clear, all of these issues arise in one form or another as this story unfolds. They're important, not only to the narrative, but also to our understanding of this place, as it changes beyond the locals' control, and these people, as they try to accept the changes they cannot influence and fight back against the ones they can. Such topics, though, are not the driving force of this story, which would much rather embrace this neighborhood, these characters, and these united but distinct cultures for all of their possibilities and struggles and dreams—now and, yes, in the future, but mostly right now.

In other words, there isn't a plot of which to speak here. There's no overtly villainous land developer, maneuvering to get a shop owner or two to sell their businesses, or some naïve out-of-towner, who will learn some kind of lesson from his or her new neighbors. There's no arrest or courtroom case, leading the community to confront the racial/ethnic discrimination of the system or fight for the human rights of a young dreamer, who stands in for everyone like him across the country.

There's no constant back-and-forth between the pairs of potential lovers, as they're divided by loyalties or crime or anything else we might anticipate. The only things holding them back are various uncertainties about what they want from life and their futures.

Hudes' screenplay (adapted from her book of the original musical) just follows these characters, while Miranda's songs accompany and give depth to their hopes, fears, and beliefs. Key among the group is Usnavi (Anthony Ramos, in a star-making turn), who emigrated from the Dominican Republic when he was 8. He now runs his late father's corner bodega, where the sounds of the streets and the people offer a rhythm for his introductory song, everyone stops in for whatever they need, and the coffee's always hot. It's also hot this particular summer, as a countdown each day foretells the arrival of a blackout from the increasing heat.

Usnavi wants out of the neighborhood, to return to the Dominican Republic and re-open the bar his father once ran. For the most part, he's fine with leaving, as long as Claudia (Olga Merediz)—the local abuela, who's technically nobody's grandmother but did raise Usnavi and has served as comforting presence for everyone in the neighborhood—and Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV)—a teen who works at the shop, has a disinterested father, and worries what his future will hold as an undocumented immigrant—come with him. The only person who might hold him back is Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), who works at a local salon—soon to re-locate to the Bronx—and dreams of becoming a fashion designer.

There are more characters: cab dispatcher Benny (Corey Hawkins) and Nina (Leslie Grace), who has returned home from college and, despite the pressures of being the "one who got out" and her father/Benny's boss Kevin (Jimmy Smits), doesn't want to return. There's Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega), who runs the salon with some gossipy co-workers, and Miranda himself shows up as a local piragua seller, dealing with a more popular ice cream truck.

These stories, simply lived over the course of a few days, are what matter to the film, although Chu doesn't skimp on the spectacle we expect from a musical, either. The filmmaker embraces the various elements of the location, just as Hudes and Miranda did in crafting this tale. Huge crowds of dancers overtake an entire city block—sidewalks and streets—and the local public pool—where splashing water is as much a source of rhythm as a striking visual—and a night club—where the director displays a keen understanding of lines and angles.

The more standout sequences are the more intimate ones, though, particularly two later in the film. One has Claudia taking a tour of her past, trying to understand what her life has meant, through the subway system, where a chorus relates her experiences in Cuba and in arriving in New York (The only thing more show-stopping than the staging and visual ingenuity of this sequence is Merediz's performance). Another is a duet between two of the lovers on a balcony, which cannot contain the passion of the moment. They end up—in both an homage and a one-upping of a particularly memorable Fred Astaire number—dancing sideways along the apartment building.

Such moments are simply beautiful, but they only work because the filmmakers are so invested in creating a specific world, filled with characters who feel as real as all of the struggles they face—and as hopeful as the dreams to which they grasp. In the Heights wants us to see this beauty, this joy, and this hope, not as a dream, but as the here and now.

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