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WEST SIDE STORY
Steven Spielberg’s 1972 film “Something Evil,” employs the trappings of a devil-possession story, but it’s really about child abuse, with Sandy Dennis giving one of her best performances as a mentally unstable mom who finds herself beating the crap out of her son for no reason at all. The scene where she tries to explain to her husband (Darren McGavin) why their son (Johnny Whitaker) is covered in bruises contains some of the finest acting of Dennis’ career; her pain is difficult to watch. And it’s proof that at some point Spielberg could actually wound us with the truth. There’s a similar scene in his last great film “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” when a son (Shawn Bishop) finds his dad (Richard Dreyfuss) crying in the shower with his clothes on and screams “Crybaby!” over and over again. The portrait of a marriage coming apart; of a husband who gave up his dreams to raise children and suddenly has an opportunity to restart his life by leaving his family behind is dangerous material. And it’s the last time Spielberg made a movie with teeth. His mode for the past forty-five years has been to create either beautifully appointed children’s films (designed with a clearly drawn binary of good/bad), or serious-minded “grown up” films imbued with an equally simplistic duality. Then, with the sides drawn up neatly, he plays a predictable game of kick ball. Artifice has replaced what used to be feelings so raw they hurt. His technique is distancing, we watch the action from afar - like sitting in the balcony at a Broadway Theatre. Which makes “West Side Story” a natural fit for him. His heightened ‘reality,’ the overly polished performances, the beautifully framed (but hermetically sealed) mise-en-scène all help to create a sense of safety for the audience: every emotion will be carefully calibrated; no surprises; as predictable as Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Yet, the first hour of “West Side Story” is some of the finest directing of Spielberg’s career. He smartly prepares the audience for the idea of being sung to by having the Sharks perform the Puerto Rican National Anthem at the start of the film. As a transition between ‘real life’ and ‘performance mode’ it is exactly what’s needed: By the time Riff (a hard-working Mike Feist) launches into “Jet Song,” we’re ready for it.
Contrary to popular opinion, Elgort is the best thing in the film. While the rest of the Jets are busy yukking it up like a bunch of Dead End Kids, leaning into their Noo Yawk accents and overdoing the grab-assery, Elgort plays Tony absolutely straight, with his inner feelings on display and a ready smile that radiates sweetness and good will. When he sees Rachel Zegler's Maria for the first time, he melts right before our eyes. It’s a very un-Spielbergian performance, and it sticks out in a movie where nearly everyone else is following the company line. This is especially disconcerting in that Rachel Zegler’s Maria never warms to his presence. Though she is gifted with a lovely voice and a big generic smile: her eyes are blank. Whatever’s going on inside doesn’t make its way to the surface. Yet the movie keeps bursting with life: The scene at the dance, the exuberant staging of “Tonight” and “America,” and every time Elgort sings, our spirits lift. And how sweet is it to see Rita Moreno show up as Doc? This is one of the alterations to the original script that definitely works. Though the casting could easily have felt stunt-y, Moreno brings a wealth of lived experience with her and the movie becomes almost mythic every time she walks onscreen. But at about the hour mark, Kushner’s script makes a fatal error. By moving "Gee, Officer Krupke" from the second act to the first, the structure is irreparably unbalanced.
Now, instead of a bit of comic relief in the home stretch, the last third of the movie is a grim death march. And by making “Krupke” part of the build up to the rumble (in addition to "Cool" and the “Tonight Quntet”) we seem to be ramping up to the fight FOREVER. By the time someone actually gets stabbed it’s hard to care. Ernest Lehman made similar changes in his 1961 screenplay, but Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins’ “Krupke” is about half the length of Spielberg’s - and though not a laugh riot, it plays like Mel Brooks in comparison to the comedic lead pipe of the current version. Structure is a delicate thing to mess with and Spielberg and Co. probably had their reasons for tinkering, but the result is that the engine stops working and the flaws become more pronounced. Even with the incandescent Ariana DeBose as Anita (who is a marvel and deserving of the praise) and David Alvarez smoldering handsomely as Bernardo, the question remains: Why remake "West Side Story" at all? The world certainly didn't need this particular tale retold to us. Even with all the updating, Tony Kushner only makes Shakespeare's original play seem positively modern in comparison. Race relations are pretty volatile right now and in the right hands, a fresh take on the widening chasm in our tribalistic culture could prove to be a welcome comfort. But somehow, through Spielberg and Kushner’s reductive lens, these issues just seem aged in wood. As faded as old polaroids. All Images Courtesy of 20th Century Studios
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But the movie really comes alive when we meet Tony (the transcendent Ansel Elgort).
