In the Heights has a curious exchange that’s been bothering me.
A 50ish female character named Daniella (Daphne Rubin-Vega) is moving out of her Washington Heights apartment and has hired movers. But when an overweight mover addresses her as “ma’am,” she barks at him for not addressing her as “Senorita.” He quickly apologizes and says “uhm, sorry’ ma’am…I mean Senorita.”
Like the film itself, Daniella is driven by cultural pride and, one gathers, a certain amount of resentment of Anglo culture, and so her irritation is understood. But my reaction was “whoa, sensitive enough?” The term “ma’am” is, of course, not a slur. In every English-speaking territory throughout the world it conveys deference and respect, and there’s really no debate about this. So why bite the guy’s head off?
After a lovely drive south on the Hummingbird highway, we arrived yesterday afternoon in Placencia, a small peninsula village that radiates a fine coolness. Placencia obviously needs tourist dollars but it doesn’t feel touristy…not really.
The local culture is arts-and-crafty (handmade artisans selling their goods along beach promenade), and the general vibe reminded me in some ways of Key West without Duval Street. Plus it has a few inexpensive places to flop, and a hardware store, an auto-repair garage, a one-man carwash joint, a barber shop, plenty of restaurants, high temps mitigated by gentle Caribbean breezes…hot and humid but calming regardless. The sea aroma is magnificent.
I dropped by Omar’s Creole Grub for some shrimp tacos, but I couldn’t stay awake.
Right now HE’s Placencia lodging is the Sea Spray hotel, an air-conditioned two-story complex with five or six stand-alone cabanas. White, electric pea-soup green, teal. Our bungalow runs $75 per night.
After crashing a little after 9 pm, I awoke at 3:30 am — the basic pattern since arrival day. And as I sit on the fenced-off outdoor porch (hammock, eating table, four chairs, beach view), I’m thinking how much I adore tapping out the column, and indeed writing itself. It’s always there, the well from which I drink, the hill upon which I stand, and the only assured safe-space activity that I know. It nurtures and provides (even with the reduced ad income). Happiness is a warm Macbook Pro.
We’ll be moving around noon (Wednesday) into the Cozy Corner hotel, which is even closer to the beach and has an adjoining restaurant.
And I’m depending upon HE commenter VictorLazloFive to guide and instruct…please. I want to see the light but I need help. My soul is in your hands. Maybe if I totally submit, I’ll get more advertising income next fall.
I don’t think the “with” is necessary, by the way. It should just read “white, privileged, much to learn.”
Well-made crap? Better than it seems? Blood Red Sky “is one of the 71 original films that Netflix will release in 2021.” Directed by Peter Thorwarth, shot in Prague, a German-English coproduction.
There’s something eerie and electrifying about sitting on your outdoor sundeck at 4:30 am — pitch black, pinprick stars in the sky — and listening to nearby howlers in the forest. It’s almost more trippy to not see them. Yes, they sound like prehistoric Skull Island monsters, but they’re just being themselves. Enthusiastic about life and about what tomorrow may bring.
Perhaps not, but Donald Trumpis an evil figure — a lying, salivating, power-hungry, pot-bellied animal. And despite all that’s happened, tens of millions of scurvies regard him as a savior.
John Chu, Lin Manuel Miranda and Quiara Alegría Hudes‘ In The Heights (Warner Bros., 6.10) is good, grade-A stuff — engaging, open-hearted, snappy, well-composed. Chu (the Crazy Rich Asians guy) directs like a total pro. Catchy tunes, appealing performances, razor-sharp cutting. One character-driven vignette after another. Dreams, hopes, identity, hip-hop, neighborhood vibes, community, self-respect…all of it earnestly feel-good.
There’s no fault in any of it except for the minor fact that I was quietly groaning. Okay, not “groaning” but half-in and half-out. Admiring but disengaged. There isn’t a single moment in which I didn’t appreciate the effort, the snappy tunes, the professionalism, the heart factor, Alice Brooks‘ vibrant cinematography…all of it is fine and commendable, and I must have checked the time code 10 or 12 times, minimum.
No question about it — In The Heights is one of the best films I’ve ever felt vaguely suffocated by.
One measure of a fascinating film is that you literally want to live in it. You literally want to leave your seat and drop into the film like Mia Farrow merged with the black-and-white Park Avenue champagne world of The Purple Rose of Cairo….more of this, more of this.
Well, speaking as an ex-New Yorker who grew up in New Jersey and Connecticut, I really didn’t want to “live” in Washington Heights, and I’m saying this as one who felt a certain charged excitement from the town of Montfermeil in Ladj Ly‘s Les Miserables. I loved the Heights characters and community spirit, but the drab and regimented architecture, broad boulevards, stifling temps and struggling, hand-to-mouth atmosphere didn’t attract.
I felt the same way about In The Heights that I felt about Rent when I saw it on stage. Good show, good current, checking my watch.
Anthony Ramos is the appealing lead, a bodega owner named Usnavi de la Vega who’s saving up to move back to the Dominican Republic and open a beach bar. This aside the main story (among many) is about Usnavi being in love with driven, beautiful Vanessa (Melissa Barerra) who works in a beauty salon but longs to be a fashion designer.
Several characters dominate their respective vignettes, each with their own saga.
Ramos and Barrera hold their own and then some. Ditto costars Corey Hawkins, Leslie Grace, Olga Merediz, Daphne Rubin-Vega, Gregory Diaz IV, Lin-Manuel Miranda and L.A. Law‘s Jimmy Smits.
“Some movies are like expeditions,” a friend counsels. “You go to a place you might not want to live in, but you get caught up in the lives of the people there. That’s how I felt about In the Heights. I wasn’t bored. I found some of the music enthralling, [although] it was probably more effective on stage.”
In The Heights is an optimistic, up-with-people film all the way — no villains (except for the handful of white people who fail to show proper respect for the Latino characters), no grave conflicts, nothing boiling in the pot or coming to a crescendo, wokester attitudes. It’s about “all of us want more, want to do better, earn more, pair up with the right person but life is hard and dismissive and the odds are against us”, etc.
My favorite sequence involves “Abuela” Claudia (Merediz), a 70ish, white-haired woman who just before her death dream-trips her way back to the Manhattan of her childhood…an absolutely transporting, first-rate sequence.
I don’t know what else to say except I understand the enthusiasm for this film, and I wouldn’t disagree that it’s probably going to end up with a Best Picture nomination. I “liked” it as far as it went, and I felt more and more supportive of the characters as the film gathered steam. It has a great beginning and a fine finale. Can I end this review now?
I realize that these photos could be justifiably accused of being relatively boring. From a certain perspective. No Cruella stuff, no In The Heights, no Amazon delivery driver, no uppity white lady, no hair-trigger Victor Lazlo intrigues…none of that. But they’re part of what the day has been about.
