Back to the movies with 'In the Heights' and 'A Quiet Place Part II'
Also, Bo Burnham sends me spiraling.
The movies are back, baby!
For the second time in two weeks, I spent Friday night at the movies. Last weekend, I went and caught John Krasinski’s sci-fi thriller A Quiet Place Part II, and last night my wife and I took in an opening night showing of John Chu’s In the Heights. And for the first time in 15 months, I feel like the movies are returning to normal.
I’ve been back to the theater other times this year, of course. In February, we rented a theater for my son’s birthday so him and some friends could watch The Karate Kid. We did a 45-minute IMAX documentary at a local museum shortly after that. And I’ve seen both Godzilla vs. Kong and Street Gang in theaters; the former was ruined by some substance-addled teens who disrupted the movie, and the second experience was fine, but still felt a bit off because of the zombie-mall state of empty theaters.
But seeing A Quiet Place Part II really felt like the first time that the experience I loved was coming back. Part of it may be that it was the first time I was allowed to sit in a movie theater without wearing a mask, as AMC theaters no longer requires them for people who have been fully vaccinated. But I think there was also just more of a relaxed feeling among the patrons. The hush that previously consumed the lobbies post-COVID was replaced by excited chatter, and there was actually a selection of films people seemed eager to see. It wasn’t until I settled into my seat that I realized that I hadn’t thought twice about hand sanitizer or social distancing. Aside from the Clorox-sponsored safety bumper, there were few reminders of the pandemic around.
And here’s the thing -- both films I saw in theaters recently were not only good, but they were the type of movies meant to be experienced in a crowded theater on opening night. And so, this week we’re going to talk about them, as well as a Netflix comedy special that recently ruined my mental state for an entire weekend.
In the Heights (in theaters and on HBO Max)
Jon Chu’s adaptation of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Tony-winning musical is two hours and fifteen minutes of pure joy.
I spent a few years as a complete Hamilton obsessive, so of course I’d had the opportunity to check out the soundtrack for Miranda’s previous Tony winner. I enjoyed the music, but the fact that In the Heights is not a sung-through musical meant I had trouble following the narrative. So sitting in my local AMC last night was the first time I really was able to understand the story, meet the characters and immerse myself in the neighborhood of Washington Heights.
From the movie’s first number, it’s apparent that Chu (director of Crazy Rich Asians and Step Up) is the perfect fit for this job. When done correctly, I think the musical is my favorite type of film. The problem is that most modern movies are embarrassed to be musicals. They make up excuses for why characters burst into song, they don’t indulge in extravagant dance numbers, and many (I’m looking at you, La La Land) seem to forget they’re musicals at all, going without songs for almost an hour.
Chu loves and celebrates the movie musical. The film’s title sequence is a joyous introduction to this world, as bodega operator Usnavi (Anthony Ramos) takes us on a tour of the neighborhood. The number culminates in a large choreographed dance sequence in the middle of the street, and by the time it ends, I was convinced that no cinematic moment could make me feel happier this year. And then, Chu works from Miranda’s song book to constantly top himself. There’s the Busby Berkley-inspired poolside dance for “96,000.” A heartbreaking story-within-a-story in which the block’s matriarch looks back on her life as an immigrant. Miranda briefly stealing the show as a flavored ice merchant doing battle with an ice cream truck (featuring a delightful cameo). The raucous “Carnaval del Barrio.” A beautiful, gravity-defying ballet sequence on the side of apartment buildings.
It’s not just that Miranda’s songs are emotional and energetic ear worms. It’s that Chu is well aware that one of cinema’s greatest pleasures is to watch bodies in motion. I’ve never understood people who love martial arts films yet hate dance movies; both type of films showcase the grace and fluidity of the human body in motion, and when done right, there are few things more powerful than watching a well-choreographed dance number that also serves as an emotional sledgehammer. And In the Heights consistently delivers moments of hope, heartbreak, joy and passion.
It helps that the film’s cast is uniformly great. Ramos, best known for his role in Hamilton, weaponizes charisma and goofy charm. Corey Hawkins, Leslie Grace and Melissa Barrera all have their emotional standouts. But the film is also packed with wonderful smaller roles. I don’t know that Jimmy Smits has ever been more likable that in his role as a father trying to provide a better life for his daughter. Brooklyn Nine Nine’s Stephanie Beatriz steals every scene with her wide eyes and squeaky voice (which might startle Nine-Nine fans who haven’t heard her real voice before). And Olga Meradiz, who originated the role of Abuela Claudio onstage, delivers the film’s emotional sledgehammer moment with “Patiencia y fe.”
Had the film come out as scheduled in 2020 and there was no world-changing pandemic to keep us isolated, I imagine we’d appreciate the musical and spend most of the time talking about its politics. Instead, watching this movie coming out of a year away from friends and neighbors is a celebration of community and an unbridled explosion of bliss, and the first movie of 2021 that demands to be seen on a big screen with strangers. Yes, I know it’s sitting right there on HBO Max, but resist that urge; if you’re comfortable going to a theater, that’s the way to see this one (and then head home and watch it again).
A Quiet Place Part II
I tried to ignore A Quiet Place upon its initial release. I didn’t need yet another horror movie, and a snobby part of me didn’t want to believe that John Krasinski could be charming, funny, apparently a genuinely good dude and also a solid director. Shame on me. I ended up seeing the film a few weeks into its release when I had to kill a few hours between work and recording a podcast. Krasinski not only delivered a taut and nerve-wracking sci-fi horror film; he also managed to sneak in an affecting take on parenting that left me flattened.
The sequel is more of the same, and I mean that as a compliment. I’m sure there was a temptation to open up this world a lot more and really goose the scares by taking the Aliens approach. Instead, Krasinski widens the scope just a bit without ever losing focus on his four core characters, as well as a new one played with Cillian Murphy.
From its astounding opening sequence, Krasinski proves he hasn’t lost his skill for ratcheting up the tension. Sound continues to be the key for sustaining the movie’s suspense, which is the main reason this should be seen in a theater, free of any distractions. The film’s most nerve-wracking sequences depend on long periods of silence punctuated by quick bursts of noise. In the end, Krasinski and editor Michael Shawver do magnificent work tying together the film’s dual plotlines to create a tense, engaging climax that delivers an emotional crescendo and also sets things up for a potential third entry.
Emily Blunt, who once again proved her badass credentials in the first film, is mostly sidelined in this entry. But the franchise’s child actors, particularly Millicent Simmonds, really come into their own here, as both she and Noah Jupe provide the film’s emotional anchors. If the first movie was about the terror of keeping your children alive in a world where everything can kill them, the sequel is about those children learning to come into their own and find their role in healing the world. I don’t know that it ever works quite as well as thematically as the first film does, but it’s still quite affecting in the film’s final passages, and proof that this continues to be a series with more on its mind than empty scares.
I’m eager to see where the franchise goes next. I’d really like to see Krasinski branch off and attempt something new as a director, and I’m intrigued by the news that Jeff Nichols (Take Shelter, Mud) will be coming in to helm a third entry, described as a spinoff. I’m still a bit leery of everything turning into IP-serving universes these days, but I like this world, and the talent is solid. I’m curious where this all heads.
Bo Burnham: Inside
Full disclosure: I was fairly unfamiliar with Bo Burnham’s comedy routines before watching this Netflix special. Like many critics, I adored his directorial debut Eighth Grade a few years back, and he was a standout in last year’s Promising Young Woman. But I hadn’t ever gone back to watch the YouTube videos or specials that had made him famous.
So I jumped into the deep end with Inside and, friends, I wasn’t ready for the plunge. Filmed over the course of a year in his home, Burnham is the sole face on camera and the only behind-the-scenes talent. The entire special takes place in one room, as the comedian flows from song to song, usually with a comedic focus on the internet. “A White Woman’s Instagram” is already a viral hit, and at times, Burnham appropriates the form of internet videos, whether in a skit where he’s a brand manager, or in videos that ape the style of reaction videos or videogame live streaming.
It’s often very funny. Burnham’s a skilled writer and performer, and most of his jokes about internet culture and its ridiculousness land fairly hard. While the pandemic is never far from the surface, the real target here is digital culture and the way it dehumanizes and divides. In one song, Burnham plays the role of a carnival barker hawking the pleasures of the internet and it quickly spirals into something deranged and horrifying. The repeated chorus “A little bit of everything all of the time” is an all-too-true way to sum up both the appeal and danger of the online world.
Burnham famously stepped away from live performances five years ago due to anxiety; he addresses this in the special. Throughout, it strays from pure comedy to watch him work, huffing in frustration because a joke doesn’t land, obviously vexxed because there’s no real way of saying whether any of this is funny without an audience’s feedback. Some of the songs abandon comedy almost completely; “That Funny Feeling” is a haunting look at a world obsessed with distraction, sold out to branding and on the brink of extinction. There are times I worried about the comedian’s mental health, although I also wondered how much of this was part of the act. But there’s a rawness that feels genuine here.
And truthfully? It got under my skin. The last 15 months, there’s been a steady panic constantly there. I told my wife that I don’t know that I’ve truly relaxed since February 2020 because there’s a constant state of alertness I’ve had to be at, whether at work or at home. And it wasn’t just the pandemic; much of the last five years has been a steady reckoning of a culture in decline, a world that has sold itself out to rage, isolation and distraction. The pandemic just amplified all that. And in its final stretch, Inside tapped something in me and brought all of that anxiety and angst to the surface, sending me spiraling for the better part of a weekend. So a heads up: be in a good place when watching this because otherwise you might be in for a bit of a rough ride.
I don’t know that Inside is a revelation or even a great work of comedy. Certainly, Netflix has funnier and more polished specials available (I don’t know that the streamer has ever topped John Mulaney’s Kid Gorgeous at Radio City). But it’s messiness is part of the point, and its rawness is part of its power. It’s definitely worth a look.
The Digest
Where You Can Find Me Online This Week
Jesus Junkyard: Instead of posting all the articles (because I’m running late to a Saturday appointment right now), I’m just going to link to the new Patheos blog, which has three new articles this week. The first is a celebration of Five Iron Frenzy’s latest album, Until This Shakes Apart, which I’ve been listening to repeatedly since its release this January. I also wrote about the how the new Netflix movie A Week Away fails to totally understand contemporary Christian music. Finally, I wrote a piece about the continuing battle between traditional and contemporary worship styles and why I think that argument is harmful.
Next week: Our Summer of 1996 series continues with a look at two of that summer’s biggest obsessions for me: Michael Bay’s The Rock and the Eddie Murphy vehicle The Nutty Professor.