West Side Story
“West Side Story stirs emotions of pride, especially for a nostalgic older generation. But it will never be a film that tastes of café con leche y pan sobao.”
Title: West Side Story (2021)
Director: Steven Spielberg 👨🏼🇺🇸
Writers: Screenplay by Tony Kushner 👨🏼🇺🇸🏳️🌈 based on the stage play by Arthur Laurents 👨🏼🇺🇸🏳️🌈
Reviewed by Ana Zambrana 👩🏽🇺🇸
—SPOILERS AHEAD—
Technical: 3.5/5
From the opening scene, Steven Spielberg's West Side Story announces its intent to be different. While the 1961 film by Jerome Robbins and Robert Wise drops us into the action—the white gang of boys who call themselves the Jets asserting their dominance over the Puerto Rican Sharks in a basketball court—Spielberg slows things down. Instead, we’re transported to a bird’s-eye view of a New York City neighborhood getting demolished. This sets the tone (and high stakes) of the duel we are about to watch unfold.
Spielberg’s adaptation of the Broadway musical feels more cared for. He takes time to flesh out character backstories and the environment, rather than relying on the Shakespearean shorthand of a Romeo and Juliet story to fill in the blanks. Actual Latinx are cast in Puerto Rican roles. And in a recall of that Spielberg movie magic, visual flair extends to elongated dance sequences and terrifying attacks alike as stunning colors and camerawork create a grainy, nostalgic feel.
But enchanting as those things are, don't get played by the film's sparkly exterior. Some of the story’s pivotal moments get undercut by song rearrangement and added material, unnecessary and seemingly driven by a need for spectacle. And even though the thoughtful pacing generally works, character chemistry can feel over-rehearsed. In other scenes, sheer inertia stalls the momentum.
Unfortunately, that is the case for most of the moments involving main characters María (Rachel Zegler) and Tony (Ansel Elgort). Their stiff, unmagical relationship may have gone unnoticed had it not been juxtaposed against the passionate (and possibly more tragic) love between Anita (Ariana DeBose) and Bernardo (David Alvarez), whose scene-stealing romance is the only thing that keeps this movie’s head above water.
Gender: 2/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? NOPE
As with the original film, the “María as a love-frenzied-Juliet” conceit makes no damn sense. Zegler—working within the restraints of the script—attempts to embolden María, but only succeeds in glimpses. With her #feminist attitude towards her old-fashioned brother Bernardo, and ability to pay her own rent, she definitely gives off working girl vibes. But this veneer of independence only highlights the absurdity of how María eventually decides to sleep with Tony: Dazed from having just murdered María’s brother, Tony fumbles into her room. Upon hearing the horrifying news, she fake-punches Tony for about 30 seconds until it turns into kissing and sex.
Adding discomfort is the fact of Tony’s casting with Elgort, who has been the subject of several sexual assult allegations. Specifically unsettling is the actor’s dismissal of one of such claims, stating that “her description of events is simply not what happened.” So when the mildly apologetic Tony sulks his way into our young María’s window (and bed), the ick factor goes up with this real-world knowledge.
This illogical scene provides just one illustration of how the film overlooks women. Are they present? Yes. But are they all rooted in the problems of men? Also yes. It’s particularly frustrating because the potential for more dimensionality does exist: Anita’s focus on her career, the added character of Tony’s mentor Valentina (Rita Moreno), and the bit of ✨girl-boss energy✨ to “Gen-Z-ify” María. But their conversations, even between each other, revolve around men like Tony and Bernardo.
It doesn’t help that West Side Story was created by three white men: Spielberg and writers Tony Kushner and Arthur Laurents. Attempting to create fully rounded Latina characters, each with agency, requires intentionality from a creative team such as this. Perhaps incorporating a Latina or at least female co-writer would have helped lift characters like María, Anita, or Valentina to their full potential.
Race: 3/5
As a Puerto Rican woman, I was both cautiously excited yet nervous for this adaptation. While there is immense beauty in seeing the Puerto Rican barrio with a mix of different races, and in having a cast of all-Latino Sharks, the lack of authenticity can’t be shaken.
The conflicting emotions of being a Boricua watching this film can be summed up by my parents’ experience. They FaceTimed me immediately after and my father was still a blubbering mess, filled with nostalgia and Puerto Rican pride. Being able to see a film with his experience at the forefront, our bandera so large on a screen, and hearing some of the sounds of our island—specifically “La Borinqueña”, the national anthem of Puerto Rico—touched the most intimate parts of his soul. His overwhelmed feelings are valid, especially because they reside in the fact that he felt seen. On the other hand, my mother held a more reserved face. In a faux-sweet way (to appease my father, I assume) she said “oh yes, well the acting was great.”
Later, we talked more. She touched on the innate discomfort that I had while watching: This film feels like a really good spoof of what it is to be Boricua. From a dialect perspective, the accents—while authentically Latinx, sure—were not Boricua. DeBose, born and raised in North Carolina with an Afro-Puerto Rican father, and Alvarez, born in Montreal to Cuban parents, came the closest.
Ultimately, what we all agreed was that this film represents us as well as possible when you have a white playwright, screenwriter, and director. We all sound the same to their ears, and I don’t blame them for not knowing the difference. I blame them for not knowing that maybe their job would be better served by someone who does know.
Bonus for LGBTQ: +0.50
The character of Anybodys, traditionally portrayed by a cisgender woman, aspires to be part of the Jets. In this adaptation, actor iris menas, who self-identifies as transmasculine nonbinary lesbian, gives a striking performance—one that this film could have used more of. Still, despite this much-needed update, we only hear menas speak a handful of times. Without more development, the only openly queer character in the film feels sidelined.
Mediaversity Grade: C 3.00/5
In modernizing West Side Story and casting actors who (mostly) align with the characters they’re trying to portray, Steven Spielberg puts in a good faith effort.
And honestly, just as I like going to Lincoln Center, I liked West Side Story. I cried a total of eight times—not unlike my father! But it’s impossible not to wonder how it would have felt to see Lin Manuel Miranda or Patricia Cardozo in the director’s chair. If Quiara Alegría Hudes, Sofia Alvarez, or Carmen Rivera had written the script. Marc Anthony, Olga Tañón, or Ricky Martin could even have helped give Leonard Bernstein’s music some island influences. But none of these Latinx artists, or any Latinx artists for that matter, were brought into major production roles. Why?
This isn’t a trick question. The answer is simple: This film wasn't made for us. Lin Manuel Miranda put a Marc Anthony cameo into In The Heights (2021) because he knew the moment his people saw that tattooed arm, we were going to lose our shit. Now, that was a moment curated by us and for us.
While Spielberg’s West Side Story stirs emotions of pride, especially for a nostalgic older generation, it will never be a film that tastes of café con leche y pan sobao. It’ll never sound like the annoyingly constant chirp of the coquí. It will never shine as bright as the stars in Castañer, Puerto Rico. It will never feel like home.
To end on a quote from my mother: “Stop trying to make us fade into each other. Latinos are all different and deserve much more than what you’ve been giving us.”