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Dancers defy gravity and physics in the triumphant West Side Story |
Director: Jerome Robbins, Robert Wise
Cast: Natalie Wood (Maria Nunez), Richard Beymer (Tony
Wyzek), Russ Tamblyn (Riff Lorton), Rita Moreno (Anita Palacio), George
Chakiris (Bernardo Nunez), Simon Oakland (Lieutenant Schrank), Ned Glass (Doc),
William Bramley (Officer Krupke)
It’s strange to think now, but when it debuted on Broadway, West Side Story failed to win the Tony
for Best New Musical (it went to The
Music Man). Today, Bernstein and Sondheim’s masterpiece is a touchstone of
musical theatre. Part of that surely must be connected to the fact that it’s so
well known as a film – and that this triumphant movie production took 10 Oscars
as well as holding a place in any list of Greatest Musicals on Film.
The story is of course Romeo
and Juliet crossed with intricate ballet and light opera. On the streets of
New York, the Jets (working-class white boys) and the Sharks (Puerto Rican
immigrants) are two rival gangs fighting a street battle to control their
district (via the medium of dance). But danger is about to explode when former
leader of the Jets Tony (Richard Beymer) falls in love with Maria (Natalie
Wood), the sister of Sharks leader Bernardo (George Chakaris). Will it end
well? Surely not with these star-crossed lovers…
You can’t really begin to talk about West Side Story without first talking about the dancing. Not since Astaire
and Rogers has a movie been defined so much by its physical grace and rhythmic control
of movement. It’s awe-inspiring. Honestly, show-stoppingly, jaw-droppingly
impressive. As the dancers defy gravity, physics and the limitations of a
normal person’s body, you can’t help but want to spring to your feet and join
in (don’t – I guarantee you are not as good). It’s simply amazingly good.
The opening Prologue sets the scene perfectly. It’s not easy
to make a film about tough street gangs, where every fight scene is largely expressed
through dance – the Prologue, however, does this perfectly, a stylised slow
build of increasing musical tempo. From the simple device of clicking fingers,
we build continually into an explosion of carefully controlled group
choreography, where each of the twenty-odd dancers feels like an individual.
The camera choices are sublime: some shots hover in dramatic
aerial shots. Tracking shots highlight the skill of the dancers. The crew dug
pits into the tarmac to bury the cameras in so that they could stare straight
up at the dancers at some points – during one brilliant sequence Chakiris and the
Sharks seem to loom, God-like, over the viewer while moving in perfect synchronicity.
It’s beyond a tour-de-force, it’s simply unlike anything else you’ve ever seen
on film. The film would’ve deserved Oscars even if it had ended after ten
minutes, it’s probably one of the best openings ever.
Fortunately it doesn’t, because there is more exquisite
stuff to come. Moreno and Chakiris probably won their Oscars off the back of
the scintillatingly “America”, a beautiful whirlygig, part debate, part
argument, high-kicking joy of twirling dresses and pirouettes. It’s possibly
the most exciting number in the whole film. “Cool” is an unbelievably wild and
challenging dance number in a garage, that seems to throw in half a dozen
different styles – the set itself seems to be struggling to survive under the
rampant pace and passion of the dancers. It’s a deliriously giddy, passionate,
dirty number with the actors clearly pushed way beyond their natural ease.
Famous Broadway choreographer Jerome Robbins directed the
original production, and was the logical choice for the studio to choreograph
the film. Robbins insisted he would only do so if he was also allowed to direct
the entire film. A deal was eventually done where Robbins would direct
everything involving music and dance, and seasoned professional Robert Wise
would handle the rest. Robbins carries most of the credit for why this film
really is unique – everything special and different about it is connected to
his mastery of choreography.
As it happened, Robbins’ search for perfection was so great he
ended up leaving the film running weeks behind and far over budget. After
months of rehearsal, when the time came to film, Robbins would dramatically
re-work the choreography to exploit locations. This was particularly expensive
for the location. As take after take on expensive 65mm film mounted up, the
producers eventually dismissed Robbins from the project after filming four
numbers (“Prologue”, “Cool”, “America” and “I Feel Pretty”). Although the rest
of the numbers used his choreography (and were directed by his assistants) they
lack the inspired genius of the other four stand-out numbers. Wise, a skilled
hired gun, took care of the rest of the filming.
It’s the weakness of West
Side Story that very few things in the rest of the film live up to the
heady, exhilarating joy of those core numbers. Both Beymer and Wood are uninspiring
as the two leads. Wood is not remotely convincingly Puerto Rican, while Beymer
is too clean-cut and nice-guy for a kid who was running a street gang not so
long ago. The scenes focusing on these two drag– and are rather flatly shot
considering the dynamism around anything involving dancing. Wood’s songs are at
least memorable – largely because an uncredited Marnie Nixon supplies the
singing – but Beymer’s voice replacement isn’t particularly inspiring and both
“Maria” and “Tonight” get a bit lost here (he’s no Michael Ball, put it like
that).
The script and storyline aren’t always the strongest. It’s a
difficult to really remember any of the purely dramatic sequences. Tony and
Maria’s meeting on the balcony summons up very little in the way of romantic
frisson, let alone any favourable comparisons to Romeo and Juliet. (Truth be told, there is very little chemistry at
all between the two performers). You get the feeling the film is reaching for a
big socio-political message – hey kids, why don’t we all get along? – but never
really quite gets there. It’s not quite got enough thematic weight behind it
for the cultural acceptance angle it’s trying to push. But heck, Romeo and Juliet is a tough act to
follow, so it’s not a surprise that the film works best as just a romance.
The big exception to the rule that the dramatic moments
don’t hold a candle to the dance sequences is Anita’s assault by the Jets late
on in the film – an unsettlingly visceral near gang-rape, which isn’t easy to
watch, but works brilliantly. In fact any dramatic scene involving Rita Moreno
stands out – she burns up the screen as the fiery Anita, a woman bubbling with
passion but also with an emotional intelligence and sensitivity that nearly
helps our heroes avoid disaster. Moreno’s dancing and singing are first class,
but her acting throughout is similarly outstanding – any scene featuring her,
your eyes are immediately drawn to her. She’s well matched as well by George
Chakiris, another Oscar-winner, who’s a magnetic dancer and singer but also
gives Bernardo a brilliant kindly pride laced with arrogance.
All this takes places in a regular technicolour wonderland
of a setting. Daniel L. Fapp’s photography is marvellous, creating a rich
palette that soaks up colour. Shots of a blood red sky at night set just the
right ominous tone. He makes masterful use of colour and shade throughout. I’ve
already talked about how the photography brilliantly helps build the impact of
the dancers. But every scene is really carefully framed and presented, with the
cages and barriers of the playground the gang fights over helping to hammer
home the feeling of our heroes being trapped by fate. As you’d expect from Wise
(the editor of Citizen Kane) the film
is also brilliantly assembled in the editing room.
Parts of West Side
Story are of course a bit dated. The dancers, for all their undeniable
brilliance, are a little camp for
rough and tumble street kids. The film’s costumes and settings look undeniably
clean to modern eyes. The casting of Wood in particular as a Puerto Rican is
odd today. It’s also probably too long a film – while the musical numbers could
happily go on forever, other scenes drag a little. Most of the really strong,
memorable material happens in the first half of the film. And like all brilliant
works of art, it’s so distinctive it’s almost a little too ripe for parody. Some
of the visual flourishes used to indicate fantasy sequences look slightly
dated.
But these are niggles in a way, because even if parts of the
film are a little bit below par, the overall impact of the film is quite
extraordinary. There has never been – and I think never will be – a musical
quite like this. I simply can’t imagine such a triumph of group choreography
being made, or a film-maker spending such time and money to push the envelope
of what it is possible for the human body to do in dance scenes. Despite its
faults, I can’t imagine a viewer not being electrified by several sequences in
this movie. And at the end of the day, what else is cinema for if not to bring
our emotions and feelings to life in vibrant flashes?
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