Wonka (2023)
Director: Paul King
Screenwriters: Simon Farnaby, Paul King
Starring: Timothee Chalamet, Calah Lane, Keegan-Michael Key, Paterson Joseph, Olivia Colman, Matt Lucas, Matthew Baynton, Tom Davis, Hugh Grant

Willy Wonka is an enigma. In Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971), the original adaptation of Roald Dahl’s 1964 novel “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” we don’t learn much about him, other than his desire to find an heir to his candy empire, as well as the cruel delight he takes in teaching naughty children a lesson. Wonka is charming and a little unhinged, paranoid from all of the years he has spent locked away in his factory, making sure no one gets their hands on the secret to his out-of-this-world sweets. With a devilish smile and a playful yet devious twinkle in his eye, actor Gene Wilder infuses Wonka with dimension, but we never dig too deep. He’s a nut that we never quite crack, and he works as a character because of that. There’s a reason why the original novel is called “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” after all – at the end of the day, it’s Charlie’s journey. Wilder’s performance hints at the layers inside of Wonka that we don’t need to unpeel, but nevertheless know are there. Wonka, the spiritual prequel to the 1971 musical classic, helmed by Paddington director Paul King, does unpeel those layers, but what’s found underneath is a deeply disappointing origin story that lacks the magic and edge that the original (and even Tim Burton’s 2005 remake) has in spades. Touted as a fun-for-the-whole family Christmas classic in the making, Wonka simply doesn’t have enough sparkle to ever hope to achieve that distinction.

Despite its tagline, which insists we will find out how “Willy became Wonka,” Timothée Chalamet’s version of the famous candy maker and magician doesn’t actually become anything. He just kind of already is.

The film begins with Willy, bright-eyed and bursting with optimism, atop a ship mast, where he begins his “I Want” song, “Hatful of Dreams”. Willy arrives in an unnamed city, fresh off the boat, ready to share his chocolate with the world, as his mother (Sally Hawkins) always hoped he would. Willy is earnest and determined, living on nothing but a dream. But the Galeries Gourmet is not what Willy initially imagined it would be. Instead of spreading his creations, he faces opposition and sabotage from three greedy chocolate makers, including Arthur Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), who will soon become his arch-nemesis. Willy then gets tricked into indentured servitude because he cannot read and fails to read the small print on his contract with Mrs. Scrubitt, played by Olivia Colman doing her best over the top Madame Thénardier impression. Aided by Noodle (Calah Lane), a fellow indentured servant and orphan who becomes Willy’s assistant, as well as the rest of the workers, Wonka bids to outsmart the trio and earn the freedom of himself and his friends.

Timothée Chalamet might be the only saving grace in the film, contrary to early assumptions that he may have been miscast. At times he’s charming, funny and endearing, but his performance is constantly in flux and dependent on the material and direction he’s given. When his jokes don’t land, his performance falls flat, even though he is clearly committed to the bit. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to do an impression of Gene Wilder, but he also doesn’t make the character enough of his own to really stand out. This isn’t his fault; he isn’t given much to work with.

All of the obstacles Willy encounters are external. Whether it’s Mrs. Scrubitt’s dishonest business practices, the antics of the greedy chocolatiers, or Hugh Grant’s Oompa-Loompa hijinks, the plot is always happening to Willy. He is almost entirely a reactionary character, and this is a problem in a movie that is supposed to be an origin story, the story of how he became who he is. It would have been nice if he actively participated in the narrative…

Willy’s desire to share his inventions with the world just as his mother hoped is sweet and admirable, but it simply isn’t enough to drive what we see. The writers, King and Paddington 2 co-writer Simon Farnaby (who also appears in Wonka as Basil), were backed into a corner considering Willy Wonka is a recluse by the time we meet him in the original movie. Telling that story would certainly be more interesting, but not very uplifting, so the filmmakers sidestep it entirely. As a result, there doesn’t seem to be any connection between Chalamet’s Wonka and Wilder’s.

Demystifying a character that works the best when we don’t know everything about him is a non-starter (as proven in Star Wars spin-off Solo), but the filmmakers didn’t give much thought to the supporting characters either. Lane and Chalamet work well together, and their friendship is a bright spot in the movie, but most of the supporting characters are so thinly drawn they barely register as real people. As for Hugh Grant’s Lofty, an Oompa Loompa who has been stealing Willy’s candy because he was excommunicated from Oompa Land until he can get back all of the chocolate that Willy stole, he’s surprisingly in very little of the film. The motion capture is jarring and unconvincing, but at least Grant’s contempt for the role, which he has expressed in several recent interviews, doesn’t show on screen.

Wonka, like the original film adaptation, is a musical, but not a very good one. The songs, written by Neil Hannon, King, Farnaby, and Joby Talbot, are unremarkable and lack passion, which is a shame considering Hannon’s exceptional work with The Divine Comedy. The songs in Wonka, especially Willy’s “Hatful of Dreams,” pale in comparison to those written by Howard Ashman, the songwriting genius behind the iconic tunes of The Little Mermaid (1989) and Beauty and the Beast (1991). By comparison, “Hatful of Dreams” lacks interiority or reflection. Perhaps the biggest faux pas in this regard is how Willy’s desire to sell chocolates in the hopes of reconnecting with the spirit of his late mother is barely mentioned. Songs in musicals should, in theory, take place when characters are so full of emotion that words no longer feel enough. And then, they must dance when singing doesn’t feel enough. But nothing drives the songs in this movie and they don’t feel needed. They are boring and directionless. Chalamet’s voice is fine, if a little weak and thin in places, but it’s worth noting that his best performance is when he sings “Pure Imagination”, a song not originally written for this film.

Wonka also strips away any of the melancholy or dark comedy found both in the 1971 movie and Roald Dahl’s overall work. The 1971 film feels a lot like “Alice in Wonderland” in that it is a dreamlike and slightly menacing descent into a magical world, but Wonka smooths all those edges out. As a result, the movie is sickly sweet and above all, nice. Which is ironic, because while the filmmakers were busy adding uplifting lyrics to “Pure Imagination” and simplifying the orchestrations, themes, and social commentaries of the 1971 film, they also made time to make several offensive and outdated fat jokes, aimed at Keegan Michael Key’s Chief of Police, who is dressed in a ridiculous fat suit and gets fatter and fatter the more he indulges in the sweets the greedy chocolate makers use to bribe him with. Using fatness as a shorthand for gluttony and greed, and having an actor who is not fat perform fatness, is hurtful and mean-spirited. It’s hard to believe such an antiquated trope is included in a film made in 2023 – especially one made about the wonderful taste of sweet treats – and it sours the viewing experience. For all of the niceness this movie tries desperately to exude, it makes sure to keep one of the only things from the original film that actually needed updating.

If Wonka is trying to say something, it’s hard to know what that something is. The film plays with themes of oppression, poverty, and greed, but doesn’t do much with them. It would be a losing battle to assume that Western filmmaking would trust its young audience enough to sprinkle in some adult themes, but it is equally weird to mention them in passing and not engage with them. Believing in your dreams and sharing those dreams with others should feel like magic, but the film doesn’t allow us to know these characters enough to genuinely care about them or their dreams.

The sets also leave something to be desired. When Wonka first unveils his factory in the original film, it’s a technicolor dream, calling to mind the reveal of the land of Oz in 1939’s The Wizard of Oz. It is bright and colorful and a little surreal. Wonka feels like a step down in comparison, and the filmmakers’ decision to set a good chunk of the film in the Galeries Gourtmet makes the world of Wonka feel like it’s just floating in space surrounded by nothing. It is small and claustrophobic.

Prequels bait us with the promise that we will get to see some of our most beloved characters become the people we love and remember from our childhoods. In Wonka, Willy may be younger and brighter and less mad than he will soon become, but if you are counting on the film to show you how that happens, you will be very disappointed. Instead, Wonka is a barely passable movie musical that is so sugary it ends up choking on its own sweetness.

Score: 12/24

Recommended for you: ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’ (1971) Earned a Spot in Joseph Wade’s 10 Best Films of All Time

Frozen (2013)
Directors: Chris Buck, Jennifer Lee
Screenwriter: Jennifer Lee
Starring: Kristen Bell, Idina Menzel, Jonathan Groff, Josh Gad, Santino Fontana, Alan Tudyk

A frozen tundra reveals itself under a dramatic score inspired by Sámi-style singing. A world of jagged ice and frost sparkles under the Aurora Borealis. This is a world of magic, made apparent immediately by the children playing. A young princess, Elsa (Eva Bella) can wield snow from her fingertips. Her non-magical sister only sees the joy in this – gone are the themes of female jealousy that were once a Disney mainstay.

But the joy turns sour as Elsa strikes Anna (Livvy Stubenrauch) with an errant ice surge. Once the kingdom’s magical trolls are consulted and Anna is saved, it is decided that the only thing to do is wipe Anna’s memory and hide Elsa’s gift. Elsa is forced into a life of isolation, concealing her true power. After her parent’s death Anna also becomes subjected to this lonely way of living.

Now Spring, Anna (Kristen Bell) and Elsa (Idina Menzel) are grown. They wake equally giddy and nervous that it is coronation day, and their secretive castle has to open its gates to present its new ruler, Queen Elsa (Idina Menzel), to the surrounding kingdoms. Two young women without a King around should be easy to take advantage of. Many dignitaries seem to think so anyway.

The stress of the evening affects the sisters in quite different ways. Princess Anna (Kristen Bell) falls head over heels in love with Prince Hans (Santino Fontana), and Elsa (Idina Menzel) goes on an ice spewing rampage, buries Arundel in a thick blanket of snow, and runs into the forest without a coat. Though, rumour is, the cold doesn’t bother her anyway.

Anna (Kristen Bell) entrusts the kingdom to Hans (Santino Fontana) as she strides out into the snow drifts to search for her sister. A chance meeting with ice merchant, Kristoff (Jonathan Groff) changes the course of her journey and of her life.

Remarkably, Frozen (2013) was the first Disney film to be directed by a woman. Jennifer Lee wrote the screenplay and joint-directed (alongside Chris Buck) both Frozen and Frozen II. These films made her the first woman to direct a film that made over $1billion. And Frozen attracted awards like moss on a rock troll’s behind.

Wreck-It Ralph (2012) was Lee’s first screenplay, and was a very clear indicator of Lee’s ability to write Disney princesses with a difference. Vanelope is more like Elsa than most other Disney princesses before her. Both have a potentially dangerous trait that threatens those they love, both need to accept themselves and embrace their power. Both choose to live alone in a castle of their own design.

There is no doubt that Frozen has been an unmitigated success. In fact, the only animated Disney film to beat it at the box office is its own sequel. The franchise has spawned short films, a mini LEGO series, more merchandise than anyone thought possible, a West End Show, and a critically acclaimed sequel (which is arguably better). Frozen became a Disney classic overnight, and it remains as popular as it ever was.

There are many reasons why Frozen appeals to audiences so much. Obviously, beautiful animation, humorous animal (or non-human) sidekicks, adult jokes flying over kids’ heads, and belting tunes are all to be expected of a Disney endeavour. But there is something about Frozen that gives it an edge over its Disney counterparts and has given it this remarkable staying power.

Perhaps it was the decision to have two female protagonists? The traditional fairy tales of yesteryear with damsels in distress are out of vogue. Yes there is distress in Frozen, but these damsels are going to sort it out by themselves. The non-prince charming, Kristoff (Jonathan Groff) is a hugely likeable love interest, but he is not there to fix Anna’s (Kristen Bell) problems, and no one but Anna can save Elsa (Idina Menzel).

By having two female protagonists, Disney have allowed the more traditionally klutzy, hopeful romantic Anna to tick the boxes for fans nostalgic of the golden era. While Elsa is aromantic, empowered, a warrior. She just has to learn to love and trust. By splintering the facets of a traditional Disney princess, the creative team managed to create something with a wider appeal.

Disney has always been divided into two distinct categories: princess stories marketed at girls, and non-human (cars, toys, animals, elements) stories marketed at both girls and boys. Even with the more modern attitudes of audiences today this hasn’t really changed. If you look at it cynically, girls can be expected to enjoy stories with boys in while boys are not expected to enjoy the stories of girls. While the leads are women in Frozen, there is a strong supporting cast of male characters. Roguish Kristoff, reindeer Sven and magical snowman Olaf (Josh Gad – a man whose expressive and distinctive voice was made for animation) add humour and allow the film to be marketed at both boys and girls. There are monsters, wolves and bogey jokes aplenty for those who are less interested in love and all that mushy stuff.

Another strength of the film is the moving part of the villain. Up to the high note of “Let it Go”, we would be forgiven for thinking perhaps Elsa is the baddie. She doesn’t let Anna live her life, curses a kingdom to freeze to death, and sculpts ice weapons with a glint in her eye. The twist in Frozen, as the audience realises where the real threat lies, is up there with The Sixth Sense or The Usual Suspects. Nearly.

The past decade has seen Disney (and Disney Pixar) films shift to reflect the more progressive tastes of its audiences. Big Hero Six (2014), Inside Out (2015), Moana (2016), Luca (2021), Encanto (2021), and Turning Red (2022) are all coming-of-age stories that explore complex themes of grief, self-worth, difference, and acceptance, with barely a whisper of a love interest among them. While huge successes, none of them have managed the dizzying heights of Elsa’s success. But it is a fair suggestion that Elsa paved the way for these films of empowerment and learning to love yourself.

Frozen is a universal film with themes that are far reaching and enduring. Elsa shot to the top spot, and no matter what she says, she’s showing no signs of letting it go.

Score: 20/24

Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical (2022)
Director: Matthew Warchus
Screenwriter: Dennis Kelly
Starring: Alisha Weir, Lashana Lynch, Emma Thompson, Stephen Graham, Andrea Riseborough

Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical, besides being a bit of a mouthful, is the adaptation of the multi-award-winning Broadway play which in itself is an adaptation of the beloved children’s book by Roald Dahl. It tells the story of a young girl, Matilda (Alisha Weir), who uses her incredible intelligence and supernatural powers to tackle the truly despicable adults in her life.

Her parents, the Wormwoods, are unloving, uncouth, and unaware – succinctly shown in the opening sequence as Mrs Wormwood (Andrea Riseborough) doesn’t realise she’s pregnant in the delivery room and Mr Wormwood (Stephen Graham) cries out ‘you mean my son is a girl?’. Emma Thompson plays a delightfully deranged Miss Trunchbull; the murdering, child-hating, torture-loving headmistress who is every student’s worst nightmare. Matilda (Alisha Weir) has got her hands full.

The young cast are a sight to behold, the dance numbers are a fantastic spectacle, and the songs are as catchy, funny, and as left field as you would expect from songwriter Tim Minchin. “We Are Revolting Children” is an absolute banger with a nice nod to one of Dahl’s other classics, “When I Grow Up” will melt even the meanest Wormwood’s heart, and the “School Song” is almost too clever for its own good. Each song is delivered with the crisp enunciation and emphatic mouth movements of any talented stage actor… which only gets vaguely irritating. The well-spoken children stand in direct juxtaposition to the Wormwoods and their rough East-end accents, because it’s always good to have a clear indicator who the baddies are.

It is difficult to review an adaptation as a stand-alone piece of cinema when so much of its success is wrapped up in the other versions of itself. On one hand, this means a large proportion of the audience is already familiar with – if not in adoration of – the story. The benefit of this is that any plot holes or missing beats are less jarring. On the other hand, criticism will be swift if the hype is not lived up to.

Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical has three other versions to be compared to. The original book, the 1996 film directed by Danny Devito (interestingly, due to the amount of time between these two films, many parents of the children currently falling in love with Weir’s Matilda grew up loving Mara Wilson for her portrayal of the put upon genius) and the stage show by Tim Minchin.

The film is a pretty close adaptation of the book, though one of the book’s charms is that everything else is so ordinary, thus highlighting Matilda’s extraordinariness. Everything in the musical version is too colourful, too over the top, too gothic, too weird. An obvious nod to its stage roots this may be, but it does dampen Matilda’s uniqueness.

There are some notable differences between adaptations and quite a lot of the book’s plot seems to have been glossed over or omitted entirely, presumably to make space in the running time for the songs. A successful adaptation does not need to be word for word with the original source, but unfortunately for the musical it seems some of the warmth of Dahl’s tale has been stripped away. As has that tenacious spirit of Matilda herself; musical Matilda has been granted extra powers and seems to wield them perfectly almost instantly, removing the underdog quality to her character that is common in children’s stories. It just makes it so much more satisfying when an underdog triumphs.

Some of the characters have also been affected by the adaptation: Miss Honey (Lashana Lynch), Nigel (Ashton Robertson) and Lavender (Rei Yamauchi Fulker) are a little simpering, their share of sass given to Matilda and Mrs Phelps the librarian; Sindu Vee’s turn as Mrs Phelps is a good addition, adding a level of comfort and safety previously missing from what is quite a bleak and disturbing story of child abuse, plus another adult who cares for Matilda can be no bad thing. Vee is a stand-up comedian, and her ability to deliver dead-pan humour is a refreshing change from the high-octane shenanigans going on inside Crunchem Hall.

One major difference is the addition of Matilda’s psychic ability to tell Miss Honey’s (Lashana Lynch) origin story. While The Burning Woman Hurtling Through the Air with Dynamite in her Hair, Over Sharks and Spiky Objects, Caught by the Man Locked in the Cage is funny and allows for some pretty impressive set design and a modicum of extra peril, it doesn’t really add to the plot. It’s an extremely elaborate way to show Trunchbull’s relationship to Miss Honey, which could have been solved by a simple ‘she’s my aunt’ from Lashana Lynch.

Before settling down to watch Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical, be prepared to engage a pretty high suspension of disbelief. About the same level as you might when watching Grease. There’s an army of thirteen-year-olds playing kids eight years their junior, and every one of them is precocious with a capital P, but Matilda the Musical is an enjoyable romp. It’s a great story with great songs and a great cast, even if for some this particular adaptation won’t hit those nostalgic highs of the book or the 1996 film.

Score: 18/24

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)
Director: Tim Burton
Screenwriter: John Logan
Starring: Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall, Sacha Baron Cohen, Jamie Campbell Bower, Laura Michelle Kelly, Jayne Wisener, Ed Sanders

Gruesome, disturbing, and tragic, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street still sends shivers down our spines 15 years later. Stephen Sondheim’s genius bleeds through his complex, angular composition to give the story both edge and depth. Tim Burton’s distinctive style builds a world of darkness and expresses the characters’ warped interiority. The film hypnotizes you and keeps you locked in until the shocking, grim finale.

We are first introduced to the titular murderous barber (Johnny Depp) in 1846 on a ship pulling into foggy London. Fifteen years earlier, then by the name of Benjamin Barker, he was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to Australia while his wife, Lucy (Laura Michelle Kelly), was assaulted by Judge Turpin (Alan Rickman). Now as Sweeney Todd, the barber has come home to exact revenge on the sinister judge for making the arrest and breaking up his family.

Todd returns to his former home, which has been left abandoned with peeling wallpaper and shattered mirrors, and meets Mrs. Lovett who runs the meat pie shop downstairs. She informs him that, after the assault, Lucy poisoned herself with arsenic and Turpin took charge of the Barkers’ daughter, Johanna (Jayne Wisener), as his ward. This revelation only fuels Todd’s anger and, with his silver razors in hand, his ‘arm is complete again.’ A musical motif that plays throughout the film punctuates his declaration and foreshadows his upcoming killing spree as the notes are inspired by the hymn “Dies irae”, often referenced in music to evoke themes of death and dying.

After the death of his first victim, a fellow barber (Sacha Baron Cohen) who remembered Barker from the old days, Todd has an epiphany that ‘we all deserve to die.’ In an evocative shot by cinematographer Dariusz Wolski, the killer’s face is splintered by the shards of a broken mirror, externalizing his descent into madness. Then, Burton stages a spectacular sequence in which Todd roams the streets of London taunting potential customers/victims as they appear not to see him. A cut back to him at home with Mrs. Lovett reveals that it was all in his head. This is a rare example of a scene that is more enthralling and translates better onscreen than on the stage.

Mrs. Lovett then has the ghastly idea to dispose of the bodies by grinding and cooking them in her meat pies. Todd slashes through London society as Mrs. Lovett adjusts her recipe accordingly. With the help of Tobias (Ed Sanders), a young apprentice who is unaware of the atrocities, she serves her cannibalistic delicacies to satisfied (and unknowing) customers and her business is booming for the first time. A beggar woman notices black, foul-smelling smoke billowing from the pie shop’s chimney and she tries to warn passers-by that something is terribly wrong, but no one listens.

In the meantime, a sailor named Anthony (Jamie Campbell Bower) observes Johanna staring longingly out of her bedroom window and falls in love with her beauty and innocence. However, when Turpin realizes Anthony’s attraction to his ward, he sends Johanna to an asylum. Anthony runs to tell Todd, whom he met on the ship bound for London, that they must save her, though oblivious to Todd’s relationship to Johanna and his violent crimes. Together, they plan for Todd to distract the judge with a free shave while Anthony breaks her out of the asylum. The finale is both bloody and heartbreaking, and the twist will shock you.

Watching Sweeney Todd is an intensely physical experience. Through Sondheim’s graphic music and lyrics, as well as Burton’s vivid direction, the film manipulates all five senses and evokes visceral reactions to the horrors that play out onscreen. This is amplified by the silver patina that covers most scenes. The discolouration embodies the bleakness and immorality of the characters, while exaggerating the ruby blood splatters and Todd’s red-soaked sleeves. Burton’s expressionistic composition and staging create a surreal space in which we experience the shadows and darkness which live inside Todd’s mind and that he projects, fairly or unfairly, onto the world. Critics agree that the film is a near-perfect musical adaptation that, as Moira Macdonald of The Seattle Times writes, Burton ‘was born to direct.’

In fact, according to Los Angeles Times contributor Paul Brownfield, Burton was initially enamoured with the story while on holiday in London from his studies at CalArts. He began working on a film version after seeing the West End production of Sondheim’s musical in the early 1980s, but it was never realized. Finally, in 2006, acclaimed director Sam Mendes stepped back from the DreamWorks adaptation and Burton was brought on as a replacement. In the end, the auteur’s ghoulish, expressionistic style was most suitable to bringing this story to life.

The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is also not the first retelling of this macabre tale. The murderous barber originally appeared in a 17th-century penny dreadful, published in The People’s Periodical. In 1847, he graced the stage at the Hoxton Theatre in the play “The String of Pearls: The Fiend of Fleet Street”, which served as the inspiration for Christopher Bond’s 1973 stage production, “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street”, and then Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler’s 1979 Broadway musical adaptation. Part of the film’s appeal is thus due to the character’s long lineage and legendary status as a mainstay of British pop culture.

Johnny Depp as the homicidal barber is a chameleon whose steep crescendos from distraught family man calmly plotting revenge to maniacal serial throat-slasher elicit sympathy and terror. His vocal performance is admirable and his cockney accent is convincing, though snippets of Jack Sparrow occasionally slip through. Bonham Carter and Rickman are perfectly cast as the scheming baker and revolting villain, while Bower’s performance stands out for his ability to swing seamlessly from knight in shining armour to obsessive lover with flashes of insanity darting in his eyes during his performance of ‘Johanna.’ Burton’s nightmarish world is complete with an exceptional wardrobe designed by Colleen Atwood, winner of the Academy Award for Best Costume Design for Alice in Wonderland (2010), another one of their whimsical collaborations.

Film and television are filled with morally ambiguous hero-villains who attain our compassion for the tragedies they’ve endured, yet disturb and terrify us with their sometimes vicious retributions. In Sweeney Todd, however, we witness a special union of razor-sharp melodies, bone-chilling performances, and surreal staging that pull on our heartstrings and send us cowering in fear. Fifteen years later, the movie industry and our own expectations may have changed, but the film’s powerful effects certainly have not.

Score: 22/24

By Emily Nighman

Recommended for you: Every ‘Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street’ Song Ranked

West Side Story (2021)
Director: Steven Spielberg
Screenwriter: Tony Kushner
Starring: Ansel Elgort, Rachel Zegler, Ariana DeBose, David Alvarez, Mike Faist, Rita Moreno, Brian d’Arcy James, Corey Stoll

It was one heck of a challenge to attempt to match Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins’ 1961 film adaptation of Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim’s stage musical West Side Story. If there was one director up to the task it was filmmaking heavyweight for our times Steven Spielberg, and he’s managed to bring all his usual grand sweep and attention to detail to bear in this, a film that is undeniably his vision of this iconic Broadway show.

In 1957 a gang war rages between the white Jets and the Puerto Rican Sharks in the Upper West Side of New York City. Amidst increasingly violent fighting for rapidly shrinking territory as the neighbourhood is torn down for new urban development, former Jet member Tony (Ansel Elgort) and the sister of the Sharks leader Bernardo (David Alvarez), Maria (Rachel Zegler), fall head-over-heels in love with each other.

West Side Story is famously a riff on Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”, the story of forbidden love between warring houses. It is made relevant for the modern age by rooting it in a specific time, place and culture, and makes for one of the darkest and most violent song and dance shows out there.

Spielberg may have delivered his particular take on most film genres over his storied 50 year career, but this is his first proper musical; the closest he’d previously come to doing one was probably the dance number in the opening scene from Temple of Doom. Not that his talent or versatility was ever in doubt, but Spielberg is able to draw from some very strong material to begin with. Bernstein’s orchestration is always going to send your heart soaring and set your feet tapping, Sondheim’s lyrics will always wow with their dexterity and cleverness. Match the right voices to belt out the tunes and you’re on to a real winner straight out the gate.

Rachel Zegler is a real find, and delivers an attention-grabbing and layered performance in her film debut as Maria. Ansel Elgort seems to take a little more time to find his feet as Tony, but certainly grows into the role from the magical moment when the central pair first meet. The standouts in the vibrant ensemble are undoubtedly Ariana DeBose as Maria’s formidable friend Anita, Mike Faist’s emotionally raw Jets leader Riff and the original film’s Anita, Rita Moreno, in a very poignant and surprisingly meaty new role surely destined for awards recognition.

The most striking image in a film full of striking images (courtesy of Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan DP Janusz Kamiński) is undoubtedly the two gangs approaching each other for their prior-agreed rumble for territorial control in the city salt storage warehouse, shot from above so the exaggerated shadows both groups cast look like two German Expressionist hands reaching out to meet each other.

The brawl that follows this stylish lead-in bears no relation to the dance-fighting in the same sequence in the original film. This is down and dirty, nasty gang violence between teenagers prepared to maim or kill each other out of ignorance and anger, justified or not.

There is a definite aesthetic shift after the muted colours of the film’s prologue introducing the gangs and the idea that their turf will soon be no more once the area is gentrified and the Lincoln Centre (ironically, a performing arts venue) is completed. The transition is signposted most notably by the dance hall sequence where the Jets and their partners are dressed in shades of blue and their Shark counterparts are in oranges and reds, their competitive dancing coming together in the centre of the hall, giving the appearance of water dousing fire. From here, the visuals become more theatrical and full of metaphorical imagery – people considering themselves and their future in reflective surfaces and water, literal barriers between lovers touching, draped fabric in symbolic colours.

The best sequence in the film (no change from the 1961 version) is the American Dream-mocking, prejudice-skewering extravaganza “America”. Switched up from taking place on a rooftop to the busy streets of the San Juan Hill neighbourhood, “America” is not the only number that has been smartly re-staged by Spielberg, screenwriter Tony Kushner and their collaborators. The scathing but comic “Gee, Officer Krupke” is now performed in lockup, the uplifting “I Feel Pretty” is restored to the pallet-cleansing position it occupied in the stage show and now takes place in a department store being cleaned at night, and Rita Moreno is bequeathed the tear-jerker “Somewhere” to hugely moving affect when paired with her character Valentina’s revealed backstory.

The original film was quite rightly criticised for casting non-Latino actors in the Sharks roles, caking everyone (including the few Latino performers like Rita Moreno) with brown makeup to better fit ethnic stereotypes. Everyone is appropriately cast here and the Puerto Rican characters naturalistically flit between speaking English and Spanish in domestic settings, the Spanish mostly left untranslated but the meaning always clear from context.

One aspect of the story really emphasised in this new version is that this is a conflict between kids from a place but with nowhere to go versus kids adjusting to a new home with their families at their back. The Jets appear to live their lives on the streets with no other concerns, whereas the Puerto Ricans, particularly the women, all hold down employment to pay their way in their new country. One group is trying to get on with their lives and look to the future, the other is stuck in the past and can’t see far enough to blame anyone but the newcomers for the sad state they find themselves in.

Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story wows, updating the more tired tropes and adding grit (and dramatic heft) without losing any of the musical’s energy or heady romance. Those particularly attached to the choreography, the staging or the performances of the original might find themselves predisposed to compare the two films and the different choices that were made, but if you go in with an open mind and allow yourself to get lost in the sheer majesty of the thing you’ll leave shiny-eyed and with many wonderful tunes going around your head for days.

22/24

Dear Evan Hansen (2021)
Director: Stephen Chbosky
Screenwriters: Steven Levenson
Starring: Ben Platt, Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Kaitlyn Dever, Amandla Stenberg

Dear Evan Hansen, the movie with the trailer that caused a meltdown within the global film community, is finally here. The highly anticipated (maybe not for the right reasons) adaptation of the hit Broadway musical that brought many to question the moral compass of the filmmakers and wonder why on earth a then 27-year-old Ben Platt was playing a high schooler, is a film with as many issues as were evident in its trailers: a controversial, melodramatic and predictable movie musical that leaves you wondering why the show was ever as successful as it was. 

Much of the debate around the film’s morals comes from the fact that the story revolves around Evan Hansen, an anxious and depressed high school student who lies about his friendship with a fellow student, Connor Murphy, who committed suicide, after their parents find a letter Evan wrote to himself, believing it to be a suicide note. 

But first things first… Ben Platt sticks out like a sore thumb as Evan Hansen. Though it’s understandable why having the original Evan Hansen back for the movie would seem like a good idea – even if only to cause some buzz for the film among fans of musical theatre – it comes as a questionable decision given the fact that Platt does not look that much younger, let alone 10 years younger, than his actual age. Of course, this is cinema, work some of that movie magic, but it doesn’t even seem like there was an attempt to de-age Platt through makeup. A ridiculous wig certainly didn’t help either. 

The noticeable age difference between Platt and the rest of the cast is off-putting, especially due to the fact that you never really get used to Evan Hansen looking like a near 30 year old man. It remains constantly jarring, even more so with the fact that Evan is romantically interested in a fellow student. That being said, it cannot be glossed over that Ben Platt does give a genuinely great performance, bringing a level of understanding and empathy to the character – a difficult task given that what Evan Hansen is doing is terribly wrong. In Dear Evan Hansen it’s easy to see why Ben Platt won a Tony award for Best Leading Actor in a Musical for his original performance as the titular character, yet the issues keep coming back to Platt’s casting. As good as the performance is, Platt’s jarring placement alongside the rest of the cast does take us out of it and one can’t help but to wonder whether we could have felt even more sympathetic toward Evan if a younger actor had been given the part, eliminating the dissociation brought on by Platt’s appearance.

Ben Platt’s casting isn’t the only element of the film to bring both the good and the bad. The writing is also a mix of very good ideas and equally as terrible ones – it can only be described as providing conflicting viewing. The screenplay creates a heart-breaking backstory for Evan that ensures an empathetic character, something that is nearly completely ruined by the character’s actions throughout the film. Some empathy remains, but not enough for the audience to really route for Hansen, and herein lies the biggest issue with Dear Evan Hansen.

Every other character is shallow and weakly written. Most noticeably Jared Kalwani, a family friend of Evan’s, spends the film being perhaps the largest source of negativity in Evan’s life, yet he’s framed as some kind of wacky sidekick. It simply does not work and the character is detestable from start to finish. Furthermore, the two mothers of the story – Evan’s mother and Connor’s mother, portrayed by iconic actors Julianne Moore and Amy Adams respectively – have little to no characterisation and are such huge wastes of talent. Kaitlyn Dever (Booksmart) puts in an acceptable performance as Evan’s love interest and Connor’s sister Zoe, but the love story between Zoe and Evan never sits comfortably. Zoe is a high schooler but Evan looks nearly 30. It’s an uncomfortable start to say the least, and the relationship between the two never quite recovers.

As for the film’s musical numbers, the original Broadway cast recording offered up an album of some really great songs and the cast of the film are sadly never able to live up to such high standards. To make matters worse, many of the more varied parts of the soundtrack, such as “Anybody Have a Map?” (a song which would have added some much needed depth to Amy Adams and Julianne Moore’s characters) were taken out and some new songs were added, ultimately turning a rather good Broadway soundtrack into a dull affair. Maybe the one standout song is “Sincerely, Me”, a catchy and upbeat number that brings some life to the musical but also comes with its own issues. Although it may be catchy and easy to be sucked into, the song also takes place as Evan manipulatively writes emails between himself and the deceased Connor in order to trick his family into believing they were friends. Even worse is the fact that the song is played for laughs, so whilst you are dancing along to the song you are snapped back into the reality of how disturbing the whole thing is. 

Perhaps the biggest issue with the musical side of the film is that the timespan between songs does tend to be longer than most musicals. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but with many of the songs being understated in their own right it is easy to slip into the idea that Dear Evan Hansen is a simple coming-of-age drama. This then makes it pretty jarring when characters break out into song, even more so during the most emotional scenes.

Of course, it isn’t all bad. Though the songs may not be particularly fantastic there are a number of tracks that genuinely have great messages in regards to mental health, even if they are surrounded by an entire film that may not deal with the topic as well as it could. The way in which the flick shows the different levels of the Murphy family’s grief also creates an interesting dynamic and, once again, it must be stated that Ben Platt does genuinely give a very good performance and there are some redeeming qualities to the character. Dear Evan Hansen, in spite of its many issues, also does tie itself up nicely in the end.

Dear Evan Hansen is by no means a perfect film – it has dull musical numbers, a problematic protagonist, a questionable moral compass and is a musical that does not feel like a musical – but it’s not quite the dumpster fire that the trailer seemed to promise. It is, instead, a heavily flawed film with a very small handful of redeeming qualities that make it possible to see why some may have enjoyed the original stage musical. In a year full of great musicals such as In The Heights, Annette and Everybody’s Talking About Jamie however, Dear Evan Hansen is most definitely one of the least enjoyable and artistic of the movie musicals released theatrically in 2021.

7/24

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie (2021)
Director: Jonathan Butterell
Screenwriter: Tom MacRae
Starring: Max Harwood, Sarah Lancashire, Lauren Patel, Richard E. Grant, Samuel Bottomley, Ralph Ineson

The movie musical is a genre with some of the most impressive staying power in all of cinema. Classics from Disney are beloved all across the world and the likes of Grease remain as popular as ever. Even throughout the genre’s so-called dour period of the late 2000s and early 2010s, in which the musicals that dared often yielded very little in box office returns, the movie musical persisted, its popularity exploding once again in 2015 with the worldwide appeal of “Hamilton” on Broadway and subsequent releases of critical darlings such as La La Land and box office juggernauts like The Greatest Showman on the big screen. In 2021, we have seen this upward trend in popularity continue, with the releases of studio musicals In the Heights and Vivo, as well as the star-studded Leos Carax and Sparks offering Annette – and yet it is Amazon Studios’ adaptation of stage musical “Everybody’s Talking About Jamie” that could prove to be the very best of them all, its mix of glitz, glam and catchy tunes making for an unmissable movie musical even amongst the high quality of competition on offer in 2021.

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie is a movie based on a stage musical based on a real life, and tells the tale of Jamie New (Max Harwood) trying to make it as a drag queen. From the off we see the disparity between his reality and the fantasy world he wishes for himself, and as his passion grows so do this musical’s fantasy elements, with the songs – terrifically performed by an ever-talented ensemble cast – elevating some truly fantastic choreography, costume design and editing.

There is an arc central to Everybody’s Talking About Jamie between Jamie and his absent father (Ralph Ineson in a brilliant performance that shows his ability to bring humanity to even the most despicable characters) which keeps the picture grounded and gives the story its emotional backbone. At points it can be dealt with in a slightly melodramatic way, something which does lessen the impact of a few songs due to cheesy shots of Jamie staring out a window whilst seeing moments from his life in which his father was around, but it works to deepen the meaning of what is largely a heart-warming story the likes of which only musicals can offer.

Despite there being some differences between the original stage show and the movie – the exclusion of great songs such as “Limited Edition Prom Night Special” chief among them – the biggest reasons for Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’s success on the screen are its similarities to its source material, and this is particularly due to making use of the show’s original creatives.

Stage musical director Jonathan Butterell, writer Tom MacRae and songwriter Dan Gillespie take up the same roles here, their combined work and passion for their original show seeping onto the big screen and being particularly noticeable in how well the characters, narrative strands and songs are each handled. For fans of the original stage musical, there are even cameos by prominent cast members such as John McCrea, the original Jamie.

This isn’t all about paying tribute to the original show however, and Everybody’s Talking About Jamie does what it can to make the most of its medium, even introducing new song “This Was Me” which uses Hugo and their history within the LGBTQIA+ community to portray the differences in perspectives within and towards the community from then and now.

Given its subject and medium, Everybody’s Talking About Jamie can feel a bit predictable at times, and this isn’t a film you can expect to offer anything revolutionary to musicals or wider cinema, but between its beat-perfect pacing and sheer energy Everybody’s Talking About Jamie is nothing short of an absolute ball.

An excellent adaptation of a beloved stage musical, Everybody’s Talking About Jamie is fun, glamorous, and features some damn catchy tunes, making for one of the most uplifting movies of 2021 and arguably the best musical of the year.

20/24

In the Heights (2021)
Director: Jon M. Chu
Screenwriters: Quiara Alegría Hudes, Lin-Manuel Miranda
Starring: Anthony Ramos, Melissa Berrera, Leslie Grace, Corey Hawkins, Olga Merediz, Jimmy Smits

Based on the hit Broadway musical from acclaimed writer Lin-Manuel Miranda, In the Heights tells the story of a New York based Latin American community, Washington Heights, in the build-up to a blackout that changes their lives in ways they could never have predicted. Offering bright colours, stunning visuals and a stellar soundtrack, In the Heights is a force to be reckoned with and will likely be one of the biggest films of the summer. 

Anthony Ramos (A Star is Born) leads the cast as Usnavi, a New Yorker originally from the Dominican Republic and with dreams of one day returning to reopen his late father’s beach bar. Ramos delivers the role with gumption and heart in a way that feels fresh and innovative. After the roaring success of Miranda’s musical sensation, “Hamilton” (2019), which also starred Ramos as John Laurens/Phillip Schyler, the two working together for In the Heights confirms that their artistic partnership is a match made in heaven. Ramos’ performance is profoundly watchable, thanks both to his triple threat talent and the assistance of his supporting cast.

Usnavi is surrounded by friends and family, but no one is more important to him than his beloved Abuela Claudia (Olga Merediz). Claudia is Usnavi’s non-related grandmother who raised him after he lost both his parents. Thanks to his upbringing in Claudia’s kind care, Usnavi also reflects the caring older brother figure to Sonny (Gregory Diaz IV), his scrappy young cousin who dreams of becoming a college graduate one day.

Nina (Leslie Grace) makes her grand return back to Washington Heights after her first semester at college on the west coast to try and find the courage to admit to her father, local businessman Kevin Rosario (Jimmy Smits), that due to racial issues she wants to drop out. As she walks down the streets she grew up on, she bumps into her ex-boyfriend and close friend Benny (Corey Hawkins) who works for Kevin. The two rekindle their teenage love for each other in a blossoming love story which compliments the rest of the film. This truly is an ensemble piece.

Usnavi’s dream, and the one that drives the intent of the entire story, is to move Claudia and Sonny back to the Dominican Republic with him and live a life of bliss in the sunshine. But as the summer gets hotter and hotter in New York and the city plunges into darkness due to a blackout, things don’t quite go to plan for Usnavi and his family. 

Along with being colourful and somewhat otherworldly, as a lot of musicals often are, In the Heights successfully educates us on the struggles of immigrants in the US, a subject that is very close to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s heart. In the Heights specifically expresses the daily struggle for Latinos. Vanessa (Berrera), Usnavi’s love interest, has the ambition to become a fashion designer in Manhattan, and whilst working at a hair salon she manages to save enough money to buy her own apartment, but due to not having the right signatures on her papers she is rejected. These moments don’t take away from the brilliance of the musical but help to emphasise the importance of telling stories of this nature. 

Director Jon M. Chu echoes the success of his huge summer hit Crazy Rich Asians (2018) by filling the screen with his creative filmmaking skills and ensuring that for all the serious messaging, the film remains uplifting. In the Heights is jam-packed with powerful performances and fuelled by huge ensemble dance numbers all to the sound of Miranda’s addictive soundtrack; it truly is the uplifting, heartfelt, feel-good film that the world needs.

As we enter into what is likely to be a musical-fuelled summer of cinema, In the Heights has set the bar incredibly high for the likes of Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story, West End hit Everybody’s Talking About Jamie and Broadway favourite Dear Evan Hansen.

In the Heights is likely to be the summer movie of 2021. 

24/24

Recommended for you: Are Musicals Cinema’s Next Big Trend?

Representing autism in cinema has always presented challenges for filmmakers.

In 1988, the Oscar-winning Rain Man wasn’t just the most widely-accepted representation of autism on film; it was the only frame of reference regarding those on the autistic spectrum.

While this may have aided in making those with ASD more visible in society, it led to assumptions that all those on the spectrum possessed some sort of remarkable skill or ability.

Autistic Savants are children or adults on the autistic spectrum who demonstrate particular abilities that far exceed most peoples. In Rain Man, Dustin Hoffman is cast as Raymond, an autistic savant. Raymond possesses an eidetic memory and displays extraordinary mathematical skills.

Rain Man contributed to the widespread belief that those on the autism spectrum were born child prodigies lacking social skills, despite being estimated that fewer than a hundred autistic savants are alive today.

Thirty-three years later, and an accurate portrayal of autism in cinema is still not entirely within grasp, the latest controversy being Australian singer/songwriter Sia’s directorial debut, Music, released in Australia on January 14, 2021, by StudioCanal.

Public Criticism

Music follows Zu (Kate Hudson), a newly sober drug-dealer who finds herself in sole guardianship of her autistic younger sister Music (played by Maddie Ziegler) following their grandmother’s death.

The film features musical interludes depicting Music’s perspective of the world: oversimplified shapes swathed in bright colours and textures to carry the musical numbers performed by Sia herself.

Despite two Golden Globe nominations, Music isn’t without its criticisms.

The film received generally unfavourable reviews, one review in The New York Times even going so far as to declare Music “indistinguishable from mockery.”

Negative attention for the film wasn’t just limited to official reviews. The film attracted a fair amount of criticism from the autistic community, to the extent of a petition on change.org calling for the Golden Globe nominations for the film to be rescinded. It was a petition that received over 65,000 signatures.

The controversy began several months before the film’s release when Sia received criticism for her casting choices. Music herself was played by Maddie Ziegler, a neurotypical person and frequent collaborator of Sia’s.

Critics argued that Sia should have cast an actor with experience of autism. Sia responded to this backlash by suggesting that she had tried to work with an actor with ASD; however, they had “found it unpleasant and stressful.”

Her response only added fuel to the fire when Jane Harris (speaking for National Autistic Society) said that they “were concerned by the suggestion that an autistic person wouldn’t be able to cope in the role of the autistic lead character.”

Where Did Music Go Wrong?

Neither Sia nor Ziegler are on the autistic spectrum. To prepare for the role, Ziegler spent some time at the Child MIND institute to learn more about the behaviours and characteristics that come with ASD.

But the issue here is not Ziegler’s performance, as she appears to have a decent grasp of autistic communication and stimming (self-stimulation in the form of repetitive body movements).

There are two pressing issues in Sia’s production (and most productions that prominently feature autism in the narrative) that need to be addressed…

The first issue is the romanticisation of non-neurotypical behaviour, and the second is Music’s lack of humanisation.

Instead of seeing a fully-fleshed-out human being, we are presented with a prop used to present physical challenges and emotionally assist the neurotypical characters who need to care for them.

The challenges faced by those with autism are scarcely acknowledged. Instead, filmmakers often opt to highlight savant behaviours or focus on how those with ASD “see the world differently to everyone else.” This typically results in the character with autism having very little agency in the narrative.

Autistic people do not see the world through rose-tinted glasses, nor do they all come pre-packaged with inhuman abilities that neurotypical people do not possess. They are living, breathing humans who are presented with different challenges in life compared to most people, a fact that plenty of filmmakers have neglected whilst constructing their autism-centric narratives.

Making Autism Understood

The core-issue with autism representation in film can be summarised in a quote by Sia herself.

“The movie is both a love letter to caregivers and to the autism community. I have my own unique view of the community.“

Autism is far too commonly represented by neurotypical creators who believe they have a firm understanding of the autistic community. It’s time to let more autistic creators step up in the world of filmmaking.

Representing autism in film is no longer simply about making autism visible; representing autism in film needs to be about making autism understood. This is something that is not achievable if filmmakers continue to neglect the need to include more autistic creatives in the filmmaking process.

Music is not the first award-nominated film to completely neglect appropriate representation of autism. Still, its presence as a major release with A-List celebrity backing and awards recognition should be of concern.

While Rain Man is no longer the only frame of reference for those on the ASD spectrum thirty-three years after its release, Music proves that the autistic community has unfortunately not found any better representation.

Written by Shona Leigh Pope

You can support Shona at the following links:

Twitter – @ShonaLeighPope

The Prom (2020)
Director: Ryan Murphy
Screenwriters: Bob Martin, Chad Beguelin
Starring: Meryl Streep, James Corden, Nicole Kidman, Andrew Rannells, Jo Ellen Pellman, Ariana DeBose

With the popularity of productions such as La La Land and The Greatest Showman, as well as smaller films like Anna and the Apocalypse and Sing Street, the movie musical has seen something of a resurgence over the past five years or so. Looking to take advantage of the genre’s popularity, Netflix have adapted the critically acclaimed Broadway musical “The Prom”, with the creator of ‘Glee’, Ryan Murphy, and two of the original writers, Bob Martin and Chad Beguelin, each on board to head what the streaming service are hoping is its next big hit. With an incredibly talented mix of musical actors (both on stage and on screen), and the talent of those working on the film behind the scenes, Netflix’s The Prom promised a great modern musical but ultimately offers something far less enthusing, the film failing to excel in ways that cover up its deficits. 

The Prom follows four Broadway actors – Dee Dee Allen (Meryl Streep), Barry Glickman (James Corden), Angie Dickinson (Nicole Kidman) and Trent Oliver (Andrew Rannells) – who travel to the conservative town of Edgewater, Indiana, to help Emma Nolan (Jo Ellen Pellman), a student banned from taking her girlfriend Alyssa Greene (Ariana Debose) to her high school prom. 

A running pitfall of The Prom is in its exploitation of stereotypes. The film makes a point to portray stereotypes both through their inaccuracies and their truths. Well… it certainly tries to anyway. Presenting small town America as the most ignorant type of conservative breeding grounds whilst also portraying Corden’s character Barry through the “show queen” stereotype of Gay men, The Prom more often than not avoids the commentary necessary for such stereotyping to hold a message or any value to the overall plot (or our overall enjoyment).

Although Corden’s “show queen” personality is very much at the forefront of Barry’s character, he is the one who undergoes the most enjoyable evolution and arguably becomes the very best part of the film. Corden delivers a surprisingly charismatic performance and shines in a number of scenes, releasing himself from the shackles of his reputation as a divisive figure to offer a pleasant surprise at the head of this film.

Among the other key castmates is Meryl Streep, who offers a good and watchable but hardly unmissable performance as Dee Dee, while the film’s other major drawing point Nicole Kidman is slotted into a role in which her talents are stifled. When it comes to Kidman’s character and that of Andrew Rannells’ Trent, there seems to be little reason as to why either need to be in the movie, with both failing to add to the story bar two horrible musical numbers (“The Acceptance Song” and “Zazz”). Ellen Pellman and Ariana DeBose simply do not get the screen time needed to leave much of an impression.

The blame regarding this and The Prom’s wider failures must fall on the shoulders of the screenwriters. Although both men wrote the original musical, their lack of experience writing feature length films is clear here, with a large majority of the film’s issues coming from the script itself. With exposition riddled dialogue (Dee Dee Allen’s character intro literally comes from a reporter saying “Dee Dee, you’re a broadway star!” to which she responds “yes I am!”), one dimensional characters and terrible shifts in tone, The Prom is not short of screenwriting sins, but perhaps its biggest is that Emma (Pellman) – the character around whom the entire story revolves – is nothing more than a side character, The Prom cheating prospective fans out of a genuine emotional arc. Instead, we are forced to follow four self-obsessed broadway stars whose emotional character progressions are either non-existent or practically plucked out of thin air. 

Although the majority of the film’s issues come from the screenplay, Ryan Murphy’s direction only works to magnify them. His terrible direction of the actors – his only direction towards Pellman seeming to be “Smile!” – doubled with Martin and Beguelin’s terrible writing creates a deadly mix that, if it hadn’t been for the popular cast people will undoubtedly be excited to see, could have sunk the entire film.

That isn’t to say that the trio deserve no praise whatsoever, as The Prom does actually present a fun, energetic and infectious atmosphere, something the stage play developed a reputation for. The scale and spectacle of the song and dance routines is nothing short of impressive, while most of the soundtrack is simply wonderful, and likely to stick in your head for weeks. The production and costume design play vital roles in furthering these achievements, solidifying The Prom as a beautiful film to look at. There is no doubt that the work in this regard will enter this latest high budget Netflix offering into the conversation regarding awards recognition, and may make it a frontrunner in the production design and costume design categories at the 2021 Oscars.

In these ways, The Prom excels, but no matter how deep you dig, how far you search or how objectively you do or do not look at it, this fun, fast-paced, large in scale musical with a number of notable performances is ultimately far from a critical darling, and will likely be more The Greatest Showman than La La Land, landing in the realm of audience favourite instead of Best Picture contender. It is simply too difficult to be swept away, and immersion is the key to the success of all movie musicals.

12/24