I still go to movies in movie theatres. Mask on. No popcorn. Staring straight ahead in a depopulated room.
I went to see West Side Story by Mr. Spielberg. The original Oscar-winner was released the year I was born. But the story is still emotionally affecting. The music soars. The audience gasped at certain moments. It works beautifully.
I have read a number of press articles and letters to the editor about authenticity and whether or not this film should have been remade or be buried forever. Spielberg and the playwright/screenwriter Tony Kushner made many, many good decisions to bring the work into this century. The Rita Moreno part makes a difference. The images of destructive gentrification make a difference. Having characters speak in Spanish makes a difference. But the authenticity metric is being given too much weight. No musical can be totally authentic to real life because people do not sing and dance down the street to rumbles. Following an ironclad demand for absolute “authenticity” means that artists of a caliber of Sondheim, Bernstein, Spielberg, Kushner, Robbins and Laurents must color within limited lines and only tell stories drawn from their own specific background. Jewish, as it happens. Five out of six, gay. Why shouldn’t great artists be allowed or even encouraged to tell universal stories?
By James Nadler
