Lin-Manuel Miranda is his own industry. His own cinematic universe. The phenomenon of his career was fast and furious, torpedoing skyward with the abundant success of Hamilton, perhaps the defining piece of pop culture from the Obama Era and the most iconic stage musical of the twenty-first century. But it was In The Heights which came first, got him his first Tony for Best Musical and built him the cache that he parlayed into Hamilton. I don’t know which project is closer to his heart, but Heights has the suggestion of autobiography (Miranda grew up in New York City) and an inherent sense of pride and community that Hamilton only possesses in broader strokes. In The Heights is a film about people who define home as more than just where you live, and family as more than just who you’re related to.

Director John M. Chu is probably best known for mega-hit Crazy Rich Asians, but he’s been behind two of the Step Up sequels and the musical Jem and the Holograms. Jem was a massive box office failure, but showed Chu’s interest in musicals and choreography. With In The Heights, Chu gets to combine the spectacle of Crazy Rich Asians with the breakneck choreography of Step Up, all while paying close homage to the song-and-dance classics of yesteryear. Its classical style recalls the verbose pomposity of Gene Kelly and the champaign elegance of Busby Berkeley, mixed with Miranda’s patented hip hop-inflected musical technique. Miranda enjoys the cadence of freestyle rap contrasting against more conventional musical singing styles. It fits perfectly with the stage that Chu creates, a template of grandiosity that rises to the level of the performance.

The story (screenplay by Quiara Alegría Hudes, who also wrote the book for the stage musical) is pretty standard fare. Young people dream of their future. Older generations consider their choices. People fall in love, some for the first time and others over again. They all live in the Upper Manhattan neighborhood of Washington Heights, known for its population of Hispanic peoples from the Caribbean islands of the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Cuba and others. Its mix of culture and heritage makes it a lively cinematic setting, a vibrant canvas for the scope of personality that its characters bring. Most of the action takes place on a single corner, where a bodega, a taxi service and a beauty salon employ our cast.

The bodega is owned by Usnavi (Anthony Ramos), a young Dominican man who moved to New York from the DR when he was a child. His dream (his sueñito) is to get enough money to buy back his late father’s former business in the DR and revive it for himself. Until then, he works long, hot Summer hours with his younger cousin, Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV), crushing on the beautiful Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), a hairdresser at the salon across the street. Vanessa has her own dreams, of moving to an apartment downtown and getting work as a fashion designer. Her resources are limited to fabric that she pulls out of dumpsters, but she’s determined to rise above what the Heights have to offer (and an apartment that isn’t next to the above-ground subway tracks would be a nice change too).

At the taxi service, Benny (Corey Hawkins) is a longstanding employee, as well as Usnavi’s closest friend. The company is owned by Kevin Rosario (Jimmy Smits), a proud Puerto Rican businessman whose daughter, Nina (Leslie Grace), has come home for the Summer after her freshman year at Stanford. Nina and Benny used to be a couple before she moved to California, and her return brings back past romance but also rehashes past disappointments. Added to that tension is Nina’s uncertainty about returning to school. Feeling homesick for the closeness of her Washington Heights community, Nina is also feeling guilt about the amount of money Kevin must spend for her tuition, a price that might ultimately force him to sell his business to gentrifying developers who are taking over the neighborhood.

The hair salon is also in trouble, forced to move because of rising rent. The owner, Daniela (Daphne Rubin-Vega), is moving her neighborhood mainstay to the Bronx. She implores her regulars that it’s only three stops (Tres paradas!) on the D train, but her patronage is skeptical. Doesn’t most of the magic of Daphne’s salon come from its place on the block? Most of the characters in In The Heights are in the midst of coming or going, struggling to imagine their identities outside of a home that has come to mean so much more than themselves. Above everyone is Abuela Claudia (Olga Merediz), the matriarch of the block. She is nobody’s actual grandmother, but she’s a mother to all the children of the community. She supports and advises Usnavi, Vanessa, Nina, et al, but she also has a story of her own, which the film reveals with great style and grace.

Unlike Hamilton – where the power comes from its level of scale and technical skill – In The Heights is an especially emotional experience. I never saw the actual stage musical, but Chu’s film has a great level of fidelity to the aura of epic musical performance. The numbers are plentiful, and the choreography is frequently topping itself. Yes, this often gives Heights a nervy theater kid energy – the entire film is playing to the back row – but it works because the content is so sincere, even sentimental. The songs, looped with motifs and stacked vocals, are buoyant, anthemic numbers that are made to bring the house down and elicit applause. This might occasionally clash with the medium of film, but it does not make the sequences any less effervescent and stirring.

I am both too white and too unfamiliar with the cultural makeup of Washington Heights to have an informed opinion of the colorism controversy surrounding this film since its release. I will say that, in my experience, when the black community speaks loudly about pop culture representations of neighborhoods that are a majority black, they’re usually right. I can only speak to my own personal reaction to the film. I found its passion for the latinx community moving, and it’s love for its characters highly effective. Coming myself from a Cuban family, it’s only when I see films like In The Heights that I realize just how infrequently mainstream Hollywood movies really take the time to depict Hispanic communities in ways that are thorough and authentic. This is an obvious labor of love from all involved, and I’m happy to have seen it.

 

Directed by Jon M. Chu