Film Review - West Side Story (12A)

 Could it be? Yes it could. Something's coming, something good.

Can you wait for that 'something good'? Cinema-goers worldwide have done, sadly. West Side Story is only the latest stage-to-screen musical adaptation to bomb in 2021, and in this case, as with June release In the Heights, it's not for want of quality. That latter movie was a colourful and exuberant version of Lin Manuel Miranda's first full-length stage show, a celebration of the New York Latino community in which he grew up. West Side Story, meanwhile, is made by Steven Spielberg, for heaven's sake, the veteran filmmaker's first full-scale venture into the musical genre. It's also one of the best films he's made in years and a worthy companion to the Oscar-laden 1961 adaptation, which makes it lamentable that the footfall into theatres to see it hasn't been any heavier.

You're familiar with the story, right? Tony and Maria are a New York City Romeo and Juliet, the familial conflict replaced by an ethnic one between white street gang the Jets and the Puerto Rican Sharks. Tony has distanced himself from the Jets, much to the chagrin of his best friend and gang leader Riff, while Maria is feeling pressured by her lead-Shark brother Bernardo to accept the romantic advances of a safe bet named Chino. But then there's a dance, and a chance meeting, and soon Tony and Maria going all swoony and singing to each other, even as gangland rivalries threaten to swallow up their new-found happiness. All that classic star-cross'd stuff.

The stage musical - with its formidable combination of Leonard Bernstein's score and Stephen Sondheim's lyrics - is Spielberg's favourite, the one he'd sworn to adapt if any. With a largely fresh-faced cast delivering equally fresh versions of the songs, it's the screenplay that diverges most sharply from both play and '60s movie. Tony Kushner's script (he screen-wrote both Munich and Lincoln, two of Spielberg's 21st century best) digs into the New York slum clearances of the 1950s and how an established group's sense of under-class grievance gets directed at first generation immigrants. There's lightness and humour too, but less dance-fighting and considerably more gangland grit, along with some interesting character tweaks. Doc, dispenser of wisdom and soda to the Jets, is replaced by his Puerto Rican widow Valentina and played with compassion by Rita Moreno (Anita in the 1961 film). And wannabe Jet 'Anybodys' is turned from tomboy to transgender without any jarringly overt wokeness. In fact the remarkable - and sometimes depressing - thing about this West Side Story is how relevant mid-20th century social commentary still feels in the midst of contemporary news stories.

But what about the music? you may well ask. Frankly it's terrific - not just the vocals and choreography, but Spielberg's unerring sense of how to shoot action of whatever kind. While the story's grimmer elements have a bleached-out look, everything bursts into primary colour in moments of romance and exuberant song, like that well-worn celebration of Hispanic culture America. Where the 1961 version kept the number to a single location (superbly so), this one takes it around several blocks and involves an entire community to rousing and brilliantly shot effect. That's what Spielberg knows better than virtually anyone else - where to place the camera (and in what light, and with what colour) to serve the story best. Thus romantic interludes, macho banter and girlish gossip (that's Tonight, Officer Krupke and I Feel Pretty) are all reinterpreted with heart and verve. As for the lyrical content, Steven had Stephen on hand, Sondheim that is, to provide feedback on how his words might be rendered potent in 2021. Sadly the great man of Broadway didn't live to see just how potent in the finished film.

The performances are pretty powerful too. Ansel Elgort is a restrained Tony (perhaps a tad too restrained?), with a tougher backstory than the 1961 version, but an equally angelic voice. And as Maria, first-time film actor Rachel Zegler is a focal point of sheer charisma - all youth and innocence, but with the expression and depth of a performer twice her age. He's good, she's downright mesmerising. That said, and for all the central pair's fraught love story, it's David Alvarez and Ariana DeBose, the new Bernardo and Anita, who arguably steal the movie. DeBose in particular (a stage veteran of Hamilton) makes hearts soar, before ripping them out in a magnificent performance that runs to the core of the musical's deepest cultural and political themes. 

Ariana DeBose

On hearing that the director of Jaws and the rest of it was taking on this theatre classic when there's already a beloved film version in existence, the question 'Why?' did occur. In purely creative terms Spielberg has answered that question; this is a terrific retelling, that showcases the musical elements beautifully, while adding a sharp relevance to the drama. Post-lockdown film-goers, however, are saving their cash for other films, and that's a shame, one that doesn't bode well for the movie-musical's immediate future. As of this review it's still showing in most cinemas, however, so if you've got half a mind, mask up and go see it. This exhilarating audience-pleaser supplies more emotional punch than you might think, and there are worse earworms than Maria. Or Jet Song. Or There's A Place For Us. Or... You catch my drift. Go and sing along.

Gut Reaction: The tuneful parts felt a bit like old friends, while the drama struck with its immediacy. And all of it entertained.

Memorable Moment: I like to be in A-Mer-I-Ca! Okay for me in A-Mer-I-Ca!

Ed's Verdict: 8.5/10. There's nothing lazy about this film-making choice. There's pure, vibrant Spielberg/Bernstein/Sondheim magic in every sequence.