CODA
Nominated Producer(s): Philippe Rousselet, Fabrice Gianfermi, and Patrick Wachsberger
Director: Sian Heder
Writer: Sian Heder
Cast: Emilia Jones, Marlee Matlin, Troy Kotsur, Daniel Durant, Ferdia Walsh-Peelo, Eugenio Derbez, and others.
Plot: High school senior Ruby Rossi is the hearing Child of Deaf Adults. Her older brother is also deaf. Ruby works with her family on their fishing boat and has always assumed that this life will continue after graduation. But when she signs up for choir, everything changes. Her teacher listens to her voice and tells her that she has a future in choral music. He recommends training and college, and Ruby realizes that her future might take her away from the world she has always known. She struggles to explain her love of singing to her family. They don’t understand her music. They literally can’t hear it. And what about the family business? As the only hearing person on the fishing boat, Ruby plays a crucial role in the family’s success. Her parents need her. She has needs of her own, though. She’s becoming an adult, yet she’s not sure how to choose between a future that lets her develop her own gifts and a past that she never wants to let go.
Why It Should Win
CODA is a pleasure to watch because it pretty brilliantly juxtaposes an incredibly specific, detailed, unusual story with almost universal themes that everyone has experienced. Very few of us grow up as the Child of Deaf Adults working (practically full time) on a fishing boat. But all of us grow up. And if we grow up with parents, there reaches a point (usually in late adolescence) when we realize that we are separate from them, and we have to forge a life of our own.
“They don’t get my music,” is such a cliché when it comes to teen/parent relations. And not being able to hear each other’s music is a useful metaphor that often comes into play in most family dramas. In this film, the parents literally cannot hear their daughter’s music. And because that music is the catalyst making her realize that she’s her own person and needs to live her own life and nurture her own gifts, her parents are slow to understand (and accept) why Ruby feels she has to go away (to go to college). But they love her, and she loves them, so it’s a pleasure for the audience to watch as the Rossis go out of their comfort zone to reach out to Ruby. Then we wait for the rest of the movie, eager for her to reach back to them because somewhat ironically, by reaching back, she propels herself forward. When Ruby helps her family to understand why she loves music, she also demonstrates why her own voice is special and one the world needs to hear.
So the film is a bit formulaic. (We’re waiting for that audition, and we’re pretty sure we know what’s going to happen when it arrives.) But CODA uses formula so successfully that (if you’re like me), the ending of the movie will make you jump up and run through the room weeping with joy. (That’s literally what I did.)
CODA’s story is one of its strong points. (It’s just so moving, the content and the delivery.) The obvious pun of the title is also nice. In musical terms, coda is the final passage of a piece of music that brings it to a close. In this story, Ruby is a Child of Deaf Adults with a passion for singing, and one phase of her life is being brought to a close (through song), and as the movie draws to a close, she performs a significant song. The longer you meditate on the meaning of the title, the more meaning you’ll find.
The film is also quite edifying and educational because we get to see a deaf family going about their lives, for the most part flourishing and happy. We see that deafness is a difference, not an affliction. We also get a look at what it’s like to have a family fishing business, which is not something movies explore all that often. I kept thinking of On the Waterfront.
A further strength of the movie is its authenticity. Deaf characters are played by deaf actors, so we can believe what they show us about their experience. The entire cast is strong, though Emilia Jones (playing Ruby) and Best Supporting Actor nominee Troy Kotsur (as her father) are particular standouts. At times, I saw myself in Ruby, which is somewhat surprising since the details of our lives are not much alike. Kotsur makes Frank Rossi such a larger-than-life scene stealer that he seems almost sure to win an Oscar, and, of course, it is a welcome pleasure to see Oscar-winner Marlee Matlin on screen again in a film of this caliber. Eugenio Derbez makes the music teacher compelling and sympathetic, too.
Unlike most movies that get nominated for Best Picture, CODA has a happy ending. It’s a feel-good movie, start to finish. It will make you laugh and cry (but you’ll cry in that enjoyable, heart-warming way). Honestly, it’s pretty hard not to be moved (and encouraged) by this film. If it were not about a deaf family, it wouldn’t be thought of as an Oscar movie at all. At times it feels more like a Hallmark movie or a Disney movie. It’s comforting to watch. And I think it has to be that way because one of its central (unspoken) premises is that being deaf is not a life-ruining thing at all. This is a normal, happy family, having universal problems and working through them by caring enough to reach out to each other.
Why It Shouldn’t Win
CODA might win. It did win ensemble cast at the SAGs (though that is a very different award). If CODA wins at the SAGs, you (actors) are awarding statuettes (Actors) to three deserving deaf actors, as well as a young actress giving a phenomenal lead performance that deserves to be recognized somewhere! Best Picture is a totally different thing. I’m sure it’s great for the morale of the cast of CODA if their movie wins Best Picture, but they’re not the ones walking away with the award themselves. Of course, I don’t know how much that kind of thinking matters to Academy members. I don’t get to vote. People may like the uplifting feeling they get from CODA and vote for it, simple as that.
Like any other movie, of course, CODA has its weaknesses. But do CODA’s flaws even matter when its cumulative effect is so uplifting? Does anyone care about the film’s shortcomings?
My thirteen-year-old daughter does. She had a serious problem with the romance in the film, and—while her views should be taken with a grain of salt because she essentially has a problem with every movie romance—she did make a good point. So much in this film is grounded in specific, concrete, individualizing detail. Except for Ruby, the entire family is deaf. They all work together in their family business—running a fishing boat. Those two things alone set Ruby apart from most girls in high school. But her love interest is extremely ordinary and thinly drawn to the point of being a teen romance cliché. There’s nothing wrong with Ferdio Walsh-Peelo’s performance, but, as written, the character of Miles is the weakest part of the film.
While watching, my daughter complained, “He’s a stereotype. ‘Oh no! I’m the quiet boy! I play guitar and come from a hard family!’ He’s in everything. All boys in teen movies and books are like this. He’s just a fantasy. She’s such an interesting, fleshed out, multi-dimensional character, and he’s just nobody.”
I have a slightly different take on this than she does. I think A) One point of CODA is to show that being deaf is not a tragedy, just a difference. In a number of respects, Ruby’s life is like any other girl’s. She has an ordinary teen experience. Having deaf parents doesn’t mean she’s from outer space or enduring some unspeakable affliction. So why shouldn’t she get the stock boyfriend character every other teen heroine gets? B) When Ruby discovers her talent for singing and begins to break away from her parents (in a healthy way that accompanies late adolescence) to form her own identity, she suddenly finds room in her life for a boyfriend. This relationship with Miles isn’t a catalyst; it’s the result of the changes that Ruby undergoes on her own journey. C) Miles only seems unremarkable because we’re not looking closely enough at his life. If the movie were about Miles, Ruby might be just that quiet girl from choir class as far as the audience is concerned.
Still, I will agree with my very outspoken daughter that the boyfriend part of the story is the weakest, least remarkable material in the movie. I’m not sure there’s a way (or a need) to “fix” that, though. (Wouldn’t it be distracting were we to meet Ruby’s boyfriend—the son of a blind family that runs the town library, or an aspiring acrobat who ran away from home to join the circus, or the black sheep adopted son of a crooked politician who’s injured in a terrible football accident? How “interesting” does Miles need to be, really? This is Ruby’s story. Since the focus is not on her romantic relationship (but merely includes the idea that she’s ready to have a romantic relationship), it might be a bit distracting to flesh out Miles to the degree that my daughter seems to want.
Surely no voting member of the Academy will complain, “I wish I could vote for CODA, but that boyfriend of hers is just too thinly drawn. Why don’t we know more about Miles?” (Actually in those anonymous Oscar ballots that show up online, people explain their reasoning like this all the time. They’re always so whimsical. “I was going to vote for something that made sense, but then I remembered I’d agreed to share my reasoning for voting in an entertaining way online.”) (In a drama competition when I was in high school, a judge announced when revealing his (surprising) choice for Best Actor, “The moment you walked out on that stage, you reminded me of Burt Reynolds.” (This was in a production of Becket, and we later learned that this judge had once briefly been the roommate of Burt Reynolds.) I feel like those anonymous Oscar ballots often read a lot like that.)
CODA is so uplifting. It’s awfully uplifting. Maybe it’s too uplifting. Personally, I have a hard time believing it will win. I find it far more likely that Troy Kotsur will win Best Supporting Actor, while Best Picture goes to The Power of the Dog. But CODA would be a deserving Best Picture winner, and it is one of a handful of films that has a realistic chance of winning the Oscar.
Drive My Car
Nominated Producer(s): Teruhisa Yamamoto
Director: Ryusuke Hamaguchi
Writers: Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Takamasa Oe
Cast: Hidetoshi Nishijima, Tôko Miura, Reika Kirishima, Masaki Okada, Park Yu-rim, Jin Dae-yeon, Sonia Yuan, Toshiaki Inomata and others.
Plot: Accomplished stage actor Yûsuke Kafuku’s wife Oto tells him fascinating stories that sometimes turn into teleplays. Oto takes an active interest in her husband’s work. She brings a young actor, Kôshi Takatsuki, to his dressing room to meet him, and when Yûsuke stars in a production of Uncle Vanya, Oto records all the other dialogue (leaving gaps for his lines), so that he can rehearse in the car. But their relationship is not as tranquil as it appears on the surface. When Oto abruptly dies, Yûsuke is left with unanswered questions that gnaw at his soul. Then the opening credits begin. And after watching the movie for forty-one minutes, you realize in shock, “That was just the prologue!” (And I’m leaving out half the stuff that happens, too, so I don’t spoil the movie!)
The real story starts two years after Oto’s death when Yûsuke agrees to direct a multi-lingual production of Uncle Vanya at a Hiroshima theatre festival. Once in Hiroshima, Yûsuke learns that the festival organizers will not permit him to drive his own car. Whether he likes it or not, they’ve hired a driver for him, a young woman named Misaki Watari. Then at auditions, Kôshi Takatsuki (that young actor from his past) turns up, wanting a part, which is convenient in a way because he and Yûsuke have some very serious unfinished business. Even though Kôshi is very young, Yûsuke casts him as Uncle Vanya, the part many had assumed he would play himself.
Why It Should Win
I feel a bit fickle saying this, and maybe it’s recency bias, but now, after watching Drive My Car twice just days apart, I think it may be my favorite film nominated for Best Picture this year.
It’s pretty hard to top the way that this film uses the concept of Chekhov’s gun. We see that Kôshi Takatsuki has a tendency to start fights with strangers who take his picture in public places. This element of his personality isn’t introduced to us for no reason, and we learn the conclusion of this storyline just after we’ve watched the end of Act III of Uncle Vanya (the part with the gun). Seeing the gun go off not long after we’ve seen Kôshi go off, and then learning what comes of all of this as a result is so spellbinding. What a well-constructed plot!
On a second viewing of the film, I watched the scene just before that wonderful moment with the gun through wiser eyes. That scene is amazing even on a first watch because it gives us payoff teasingly promised by the very first scene of the movie. (I say “teasingly” because even though some part of us expects this payoff, we’re not sure that we’ll ever get it until it happens. This is the kind of scene that pulls you right to the edge of your seat. You’ll really want to hear what Takatsuki has to say!) Now that I had seen the film before and knew what happened after that bit with the gun, I discovered a new dimension to the discussion in the car. On a first watch, we get caught up in what’s going on with Yûsuke as he listens. But on a second watch, we’re reminded of how Kôshi has always told us that he’s able to find himself in Oto’s words.
The film’s story is so compelling, so I’m happy to see it nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay (though somewhat surprisingly for a three hour film, what it’s adapted from is a short story! I guess Ryûsuke Hamaguchi and Takamasa Oe found a way to flesh it out). Of course, I have a hard time resisting material about creating narratives and finding truth in fiction. Drive My Car has so much to say not only about breakdowns in communication but also about discovering new ways to communicate.
If you can, read Uncle Vanya before watching Drive My Car. The movie is very much in conversation with Chekhov’s play—in multiple languages at once! I’m easily won with metadrama, so of course, I like this.
The evolving relationship between Yûsuke and his driver is a pleasure to watch unfold as well. (It’s also kind of fun to see how many meanings can be teased out of the movie’s title. On a literal level, Misake is driving Yûsuke’s red Saab, but the title offers a number of other rewarding implications. Without giving away any major plot twists, I can say, for example, that Yûsuke forces Takatsuki to play his part (Uncle Vanya). Off the cuff, I can come up with about ten useful metaphorical readings of the film’s title. (Please watch the movie if you haven’t seen it! It’s so good!)
The cinematography of Drive my Car is pretty captivating, too (though quite a number of this year’s Oscar nominees look amazing). The “trip home” portion of the story has such a captivating color scheme. It’s so aesthetically pleasing, just in a basic, uncomplicated way. It looks beautiful.
Why It Shouldn’t Win
With extremely rare exceptions, the movie I like best in a given year never wins Best Picture. I do think Drive My Car may be my personal favorite, so there’s one strike against it already.
Also despite my love for this film, even I would like it better if it were a bit shorter. What frustrates me is that making Drive My Car shorter would (to a degree) ruin it because the film contains long silences which are not only intentional but necessary. I usually prefer films that move along at a brisker clip. It’s not that I have a short attention span. It’s that I enjoy the energy and vitality that can be produced through editing. This movie feels very long (as long as life feels when someone you love has died, and you’d prefer to die, too, yet you don’t). This is an essential aspect of the film, not a flaw of it.
Nevertheless, Drive My Car is long, and it isn’t necessarily easy to watch. Taken together, those two statements could suggest that it’s boring, but that is not what I mean. This film has an arduous, grueling quality. To appreciate it fully, you must be in the mood for it, and you must be willing to surrender to it for three hours. The protagonist has a line about how performing Chekhov drags the truth out of you, and watching Drive My Car does that, too. To engage with it properly, you must meet it on its own terms and let it take you on a journey. By the end, you will be exhausted. Simply put, you have to want to watch this movie. And in a very literal sense, you have to watch. Unless you speak as many languages as Jin Dae-yeon’s Kon Yoon-su, you will not know what is happening unless you read the subtitles. You also need to learn to read the actors.
Since realizing my opinion of Drive My Car is now so high, I’ve been interrogating myself relentlessly, demanding, “Would you like this film as much if it were told in English and set in an American city? Is it possible that you’re overlooking many of its flaws because it’s a foreign film?” (I just tried to convince myself, “No, I would like it just as much if Pedro Almodóvar had directed it.” Then I had to remind myself, “You’re not Spanish, either, Sarah!” Every time I try to imagine this movie as not from Japan, I only make it from some other foreign country. I’m not doing it on purpose!)
Parasite was a foreign film that won Best Picture, but it was also a different kind of movie, faster paced, more shocking, and less foreign in feel. (What I mean is, even though the plot does involve some elements that are specific to South Korean culture/history, you could imagine a very similar story happening in this country. In Drive My Car, they’re doing Chekhov in Japan. It’s inescapably foreign and may feel too artsy for some people’s liking.)
Also I know that some people consider one person driving another’s car a bit of a cliché. (I know because the first novel in my own series features that very set up, and I was told by many people, “That’s a bit of a cliché.” But I thought it would be distracting to have two teenagers explore Austin by elephant.) I’m sure Drive My Car has plot elements that some would consider either A) overused or B) improbable. Frankly, it does so many things well that I don’t care. But there are going to be people who find this movie pretentious, over-rated, and not as original as it “pretends” to be. (I don’t feel this way myself, but I know people will. This is the kind of film that provokes such reactions.)
I don’t think Drive My Car has much of a chance to win Best Picture this year, but it does seem pretty likely to win Best International Film.
West Side Story
Nominated Producer(s): Steven Spielberg, Kristie Macosko Krieger
Director: Steven Spielberg
Writer: Tony Kushner
Cast: Ansel Elgort, Rachel Zegler, Ariana DeBose, David Alvarez, Mike Faist, Josh Andrés Rivera, Brian d’Arcy James, Corey Stoll, Kevin Csolak, iris menas, Patrick Higgins, Paloma Garcia-Lee, Rita Moreno, and others.
Plot: New York City, 1957. Rival street gangs the Jets (led by Riff) and the Sharks (led by Bernardo) fight for control of territory that is already slipping away from either side thanks to a looming urban renewal project. After spending some time in prison for a violent crime, Riff’s best friend Tony no longer wants to be a part of the gang. But Riff convinces Tony to come to a dance where he meets Maria, a beautiful young Puerto Rican woman who also happens to be Bernardo’s sister. What happens next is a lot like Romeo and Juliet with slightly altered weapons, significantly more dancing, and a wonderful part for Rita Moreno who won Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal of Anita (Bernardo’s girlfriend) in the 1961 film West Side Story.
Why It Should Win
After watching West Side Story a second time, my daughter announced that it’s her favorite of the year which visibly shocked her father.
“Remember, she hasn’t seen them all yet,” I reminded him.
“She’s seen Don’t Look Up,” he replied, sounding almost forlorn. (That’s his favorite of the year.)
I was a bit taken aback myself. That West Side Story would be her favorite film this year is pretty amazing when you consider how much she hates Tony. Ever since she and I first saw the movie in the theater months ago, she has told us practically every day that 1) She can’t stand Tony as a character, 2) She thinks Ansel Elgort is disastrously miscast, and 3) Tony and Maria have no chemistry.
So if she hates the male lead in a romantic tragedy to that degree, and yet West Side Story is still her favorite, the rest of the movie must be pretty darn good, right?
Right. It is. West Side Story is one of my favorite Oscar films of the year, too. For one thing, it’s such a stunning achievement technically. I’m thrilled Steven Spielberg is nominated for Best Director because this is his very first musical, and you would never guess. He sure didn’t ease his way into the genre. West Side Story focuses so heavily on big, athletic dance numbers featuring choreography that demands grueling physicality and absolute precision from a large cast. If you’ve never directed a musical before, how do you know best not only how to organize these musical numbers, but also how to photograph them? This seems so difficult to me, yet as we watch the film, the singing and dancing seems to happen so naturally (and often joyously). As the audience, it’s easy to enjoy, but for the filmmakers, it must have been difficult to arrange. In the past, I’ve never written up the Best Director nominees simply because I have limited experience with directing and no experience with filmmaking, and I’m not sure how much of what I see to attribute to the director. I know this much, though. Spielberg is tackling a musical for the first time, and the results are the best movie he’s made in the last twenty years! I can’t imagine all the technical decisions that would go into a film this complicated. Plus you have to guide a huge cast expected to sing, dance, and act (in two languages) all over town.
Ariana DeBose (as Anita) is the one who does all three of these things the best, so she’s one who will (probably) dance away with an Oscar (for Best Supporting Actress). On a second watch, I have even more admiration for DeBose’s performance. She does so much with her face. Her bold-colored costumes and dramatic dance moves stand out so much that we remember her impressive kicks and her eye-catching clothing. But I think it’s her animated facial reactions that really make her performance something special. She dances with her whole body (including her face). Anita is never at rest. Honestly I’d be willing to watch a full length feature film that was just a close up of Anita’s face as she reacted to the events of the story unfolding around her.
DeBose also gets some of the best, most emotionally charged dramatic moments in West Side Story. If you ask me, Anita has always been the best part. That’s why Rita Moreno won Best Supporting Actress playing Anita in the 1961 West Side Story. In this version, writer Tony Kushner (who probably should have been nominated for his screenplay) gives Anita an even better part, giving her a character arc that’s more clearly defined and emotional beats that are even more moving.
For me, the movie’s most special moment comes when Anita shows up at the drug store to give Tony a message. The changes Kushner and Spielberg make here are small, but they profoundly improve on the same scene in the 1961 movie, in part by building on its legacy. To rewrite the Doc part for Rita Moreno (making her Doc’s Puerto Rican widow Valentina) is a stroke of genius. Watching the actress who once played Anita witness a violent scene featuring the new Anita is worth the price of admission to the movie (and then some). That Moreno is able to witness something that happened to her character when she was Anita, give the act its proper name, and shame the perpetrators into backing down must make the scene so meaningful to the actress. Moreno herself brings her own story with her when she appears in this film. In fact, she brings multiple stories (the story of the actress, the story of the 1961 Anita, the story of all young female immigrants, the story of Puerto Ricans like Moreno who become such a fixture of our culture in this country that people forget their origins). This is one of the best uses of an original star in a remake I have ever seen. Metadrama always appeals to me, and here we have such rich stories overlapping as they unfold (all at once) on screen. I wish Moreno could have gotten a Best Supporting Actress nomination, too, though I understand that the category is crowded. (It is also very telling that she is able to stop what is happening. It gives the street gang a tragic cast, too, since they are still so young.)
I love the changes Kushner and Spielberg make to Chino, too. He’s a much more fleshed out character here than the 1961 Chino. (I actually really like both Josh Andrés Rivera’s performance and the character of Chino. If I were Maria, I would have stuck with Chino at the dance, unable to resist the way he was making a fool of himself just to please me.)
With one notable exception, the entire cast is good. Rachel Zegler has a lovely voice and makes a much better Maria than Natalie Wood. (The reimagining of “Pretty” in this version works beautifully.) My daughter loves the hungry physicality of Mike Faist’s performance as Riff. And David Alvarez brings intensity and charisma to Bernardo.
Of course, it’s pretty hard to top the music of Leonard Bernstein and the lyrics of Stephen Sondheim. (My daughter and I have spent months in the car listening to “America,” “Gee, Officer Krupke,” “Cool,” “Tonight, Quintet,” “I Feel Pretty,” and “A Boy Like That/I Have a Love.” I also think “Something’s Coming,” “Maria,” and “Tonight” are lovely songs. (What I like most about them is the phrasing. I think that’s the best word to describe it.) I love the idea of the song “Somewhere” being resurrected for Rita Moreno and enjoy her performance of the song in the movie (but it’s too slow for the car, the way I drive). Of course, I have a special place in my heart for the “Jets Song” since I am a Jett.
Overall, I think the changes Kushner and Spielberg have made make the musical easier to watch, the characters easier to root for than in the 1961 version. (We were surprised to see conversations about the portrayal of Anybodys (iris menas) as a change because we had viewed the character in the 1961 film as trans. My daughter didn’t like that film much, but she did compliment it on being so progressive for its time by including a trans character. Possibly we had that impression because we watched for the first time with 2020 eyes.)
Anita’s impassioned about-face in the drug store, and Valentina’s subsequent commentary on the entire episode are some of the best moments I’ve seen in any recent film. For that drug store scene alone, I’d consider this West Side Story a worthy winner of Best Picture.
Why It Shouldn’t Win
After seeing the film a second time, I have to agree with what my daughter has been (very persistently) saying for months. Ansel Elgort is miscast as Tony. Even my husband (who persistently sees the best in every person) (except for select politicians) came away with the strong sense that Elgort is the one part of West Side Story that just doesn’t work.
“Bernardo has a charisma,” he noted, “a strong sense of self. He dominates the space he’s in, and it’s easy to see why the Sharks look to him as a leader. Tony is just tall.” (The moment when they face off at the rumble almost comically highlights the disparity between the two.)
Like me, my husband does think that Elgort can sing. (My daughter remains unimpressed by his voice.) But there’s more to being the male lead in a musical than just singing and being tall.
Despite the charm and talent of Rachel Zegler, the two protagonists have almost no chemistry. Their early moment at the dance feels forced and strange. It’s easy to understand what Tony sees in Maria, but why she finds him so irresistible from across the room is much harder to grasp.
Within the story, I understand that Maria is bristling at Bernardo’s attempts to control every aspect of her life. I certainly see why she would want to run off with someone. But why Tony? The logic of it wouldn’t matter if the audience felt a connection between them, but despite all their spoken (and sung) professions of love, we never really do.
The problem isn’t Rachel Zegler. She has fantastic chemistry with Ariana DeBose. (I mean they’re good scene partners, and the Maria/Anita relationship seems real, not that they’re in love.) We get far more passion in “A Boy Like That/I Have a Love” than anything we ever feel between Maria and Tony. And in the scene that follows when Lieutenant Schrank comes to question them in the apartment, Maria and Anita communicate with words, looks, body language. We never see Maria and Tony in sync like that.
My daughter thinks Elgort may have been cast because he vaguely resembles Richard Beymer who played Tony in the 1961 film. (Funnily enough, she dislikes Beymer’s performance even more than Ansel Elgort’s. Back when we watched that film, she kept complaining that he seemed wooden and smiled like a psychopath.)
In fairness to Elgort (and Beymer), my daughter also doesn’t like Tony as a character. She finds his behavior creepy. She thinks he’s too aggressive in the balcony scene. (Actually, even her six-year-old brother thought Tony was out of line and disturbing there. When he tells Maria, “But I found you,” my son echoed in a demented voice, “I found you. And next I’m going to follow you into the bathroom and watch you pee.” I guess Tony does have a lot of stalker energy.) (I find it funny when all the other Marias come to their windows and react in various ways to his searching singing, but I guess in real life behavior like that would be a red flag.)
Other aspects of Tony’s behavior that she objects to, I think make sense. She doesn’t think you should tell someone on a first date that you just spent a year in prison for almost beating somebody to death. I disagree. That’s not the kind of news that can wait until your fifth anniversary. I think Tony is right to tell Maria about his past almost immediately. Now does he pressure her to make commitments too quickly? Yes, of course. But that makes more sense to me in this version because of the changes made to the Doc character. Tony has always relied on Valentina for guidance, and in her example he sees that a Puerto Rican woman could be welcomed into his community…if he marries her like Doc did. He’s acting hastily, but it’s easy to understand his reasoning.
(I am confused about one plot point, too. Why doesn’t Bernardo know anything about Tony? I thought the Sharks and the Jets have been rivals for years, living in this bad neighborhood that’s about to be torn down. I thought Tony and Riff started the Jets together. Tony was in prison for just one year. Bernardo’s been in New York a long time (with Anita for five years, right?). Why does Bernardo seem to have no idea who Tony is or what any of his backstory is? The Jets know Bernardo. He’s even in their song lyrics! (Do they know him only because he’s a professional fighter?) (But they know Chino by name, too. When Anybodys reports that Chino has the gun, nobody asks blankly, “Who?” This doesn’t matter, I guess. But it is confusing.)
The problem of Ansel Elgort frustrates me because I think Spielberg’s West Side Story improves significantly on the 1961 film. (I like choices like not translating the Spanish. And I think the musical numbers “Cool,” “Gee, Officer Krupke,” and “I Feel Pretty,” are all infinitely better in this version.) The 1961 film won Best Picture. It doesn’t seem entirely fair that this film would be stronger overall but fall short. The thing is, though, Ansel Elgort as Tony just throws everything off. He’s only one person, but Tony is a very important character.
Still, if West Side Story does somehow win Best Picture—which is not impossible—I wouldn’t be upset. I’ve gotten months of entertainment from its soundtrack alone! I expect to see The Power of the Dog or CODA win Best Picture, though, maybe Belfast. (I suppose it might also be King Richard which did win the ACE Eddie.) I would welcome a win for West Side Story. And maybe in an Oscar season without Omicron, that would have been more likely. Maybe more people would have flocked to the movie theaters to see West Side Story. I don’t know. I don’t foresee it winning Best Picture this year.