Sixty years ago, Robert Wise began his film of “West Side Story” with a view of Manhattan from the sky.
The period in which the movie is set could well be—get this—the time at which the original “West Side Story” was taking shape, ahead of its Broadway première, in 1957.
It pleases Schrank to plague both houses; on the one hand, he anticipates “rich people in nice apartments employing Puerto Rican doormen,” and, on the other, he scorns the Jets, whose industrious forebears have moved out, as “the last of the can’t-make-it Caucasians.” It’s alarming how charming he is.
You watch the initial combat scene of Wise’s film and ask yourself, What do these boys think they’re doing? Who’s hurting whom, given that they’re punching empty air? When one of the Jets is actually hit, we see the tiniest dab of blood.
Narrative touches are designed to add earthiness and sweat; Bernardo , the resident Romeo, who has, we are told, already spent a year in prison for assault.
What do skewered ears have to do with the unsoiled innocence of Tony’s love for Maria , Bernardo’s sister? Not that it’s an equal relationship; Zegler shines with energetic sweetness, while Elgort, who appears to be twice her height, is more of a baffled chump.
Moreno, who turns ninety on December 11th, returns with unquelled spirits to the fray; for Spielberg, she plays Valentina, who runs the store where Tony toils, and the role of Anita passes to Ariana DeBose, who arms it with her own strength and sass.
“Officer Krupke” is staged at a police station, not on the street, and “America” tilts in the other direction—no longer belted out on a rooftop, after dark, but summoned by Janusz Kamiński, Spielberg’s regular cinematographer, into the clear light of day, amid pedestrians and traffic.
At the other extreme, we are softly swept away as Valentina, in the movie’s most daring switch, delivers “Somewhere.” Usually, the number is sung by Tony and Maria, athrob with yearning as they vent their particular hopes.
The slightly less welcome news is that it’s racing toward Earth and will be dropping in on us, according to Dr.
The difference, in “Don’t Look Up,” is that the doom barely registers—neither on TV, where Mindy and Dibiasky try spelling it out for a couple of snarky anchors , who is also her chief of staff.
Still, we get a laughably crowded cast, rounded out by Timothée Chalamet as a skater dude with a sideline in prayer and Mark Rylance as a tech billionaire, at once creepy, childlike, and voracious.
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