Archive for category: Reviews

My Fair Lady has the best songs, but West Side Story has the best score of any Broadway musical, and it was a treat to hear it (conducted by Gustavo Dudamel) on a big screen in a big theater (with only two other people). The story of Romeo (Tony) and Juliet (Maria) has stood the test of time and doesn’t need or deserve my quibbles. That leaves open the question of this particular production by Steven Spielberg with these actors. These were my reservations: Ansel Elgort was unconvincing and uninteresting as Tony: a pretty boy without the fire to lead the Jets, serve a year in Attica or kill someone. His extra height was supposed to make him stand apart, I guess, but it added to the perception that he belonged in another movie. The dancing was another problem: a few of the set pieces were cute, but others largely distracted: we waited for them to end so the story could continue. And, as with In the Heights, there were too many. Maria was lovely and had the only voice you wanted to hear, but the secondary characters were nondescript. Officer Krupke, normally a buffoonish relief, was a nonentity, as portrayed by the normally reliable Brian d’Arcy James. Spielberg presumably felt a need to be faithful to the original production–hence all the dancing–but I wish he had tackled the story afresh, building around the music. As it was, I felt this movie would have made a great stage play.

This is all about Will Smith, which is good and bad: his performance is incredible, but there’s a lot of it and it doesn’t change. Except for his wife (Aunjanue Ellis), who has one searing scene, the other characters are caricatures. Ever see five young sisters all playing happily together all the time? And the white men are exaggerated presences, sort of like American characters on Downton Abbey. The fact that we already know the story of Venus and Serena Williams is also two-pronged: their role in tennis history gives the plot an automatic heft it would otherwise lack, but it eliminates any possible suspense and drama. As a self-styled tennis expert, I was impressed with the actors’ ground strokes, although having Venus rush the net to put away so many points seemed a cinematic liberty. And the scene with McEnroe and Sampras was a groaner, topped only by the gratuitous cameo of Bud Collins.

A haunting film, with Kodi Smit-McPhee as the spectral Peter, Benedict Cumberbatch as the half-crazy Phil and Kirsten Dunst as the drunken and lost Rose. Jesse Plemons plays Phil’s appropriately bovine brother George, wandering aimlessly outside the action. The superb cinematography, featuring beautifully empty New Zealand landscapes, made me wish, as with Nomadland last year, that I was in a theater, where Jonny Greenwood’s score would undoubtedly have been enhanced, as well. The plot pulled you along, wondering where it was going; and although I quickly figured out the ending, it left me with many questions, which I will ponder in a separate post.

A strange black-and-white, in every sense, picture of the 1930s, with a lack of subtlety and artistry mimicking films in the ’30s – was that intentional? Tessa Thompson’s character was nervous every minute – and she was in every minute – striking a Hitchcockian note that eclipsed whatever social point may have been intended.