I'm often asked, mostly by friends and family, what my favorite movie is.
Singular.
How?
I've been watching television and films for four decades now. That's a long time for a movie to come change my mind. Whatever list I have concocted in my head, I promise you it is more complex than what you're imagining. The sheer amount of genres out there, the absolute plethora of talent behind the lenses and in front. The closest I've ever gotten to a general consensus of solid opinions (and let's all remember, this is literally one person's opinion that is being asked) is as follows. Mad Max Fury Road is the *best* (ALL CAPS if you're angry) action film I have ever witnessed. Terminator 2: Judgement Day used to be the bearer of that crown for well over a decade. But is the "action film" my favorite genre? Well, not exactly.
My favorite sequel of all time (and potentially the best cinematic sequel to ever grace moviegoers) is Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back. Whatever Star Wars theme you hum, I guarantee you it was given birth to, during this installment, by the maestro John Williams. "The Imperial March," synonymous with the entire saga (even in adjacent video games and generally unrelated media) has been used to the point of convincing everyone that this song was there all along. Like a benign, musically inclined "Mandela Effect" that hurts no one in the process.
But, Star Wars, any of them really, are not my "Quote, Unquote" favorite movie.
What then? What could possibly pass as my favorite movie?
The answer hit me in college (the third time around) when I decided to write about Kevin Smith, specifically his movie Clerks, and how it inspired me. By showing Dante's life as a convenience store clerk, and his friend Randall manning the video store, as a peak 90's cultural phenomenon (and Jay and Silent Bob have an empire amassed from the success of "staying true to their Jersey selves"), I found myself seen, acknowledged even.
See, Puerto Ricans in media have been presented in fairly problematic ways. Granted, there were some good hits and excellent characterizations throughout the years, but the main version of the "Puerto Rican" (or Caribbean person, so let's include Cubans, Dominicans, and other Spanish speaking Afro-Caribeños) that always stuck to me was NBC's Seinfeld portrayal of Puerto Ricans (almost always gay loud men with questionable facial hair choices, and even more dire shorts) and Jerry Seinfeld's absolute disdain for New York City's Puerto Rican Day Parade.
With that being said - 2020 shaped up to be a strong year for Puerto Rican talent. Lin-Manuel Miranda sold the streaming rights of his Broadway hit Hamilton: An American Musical (you might have heard of this one, but if not, please Google the majesty) to Disney via their fairly new streaming service Disney+ ("ploos," if you ask a certain group of mountain kids from Colorado). This gave him the clout and production power to go back to his original Broadway hit and most personal piece.
In the Heights.
The basic plot follows our protagonist Usnavi, hilariously named after a U.S. Navy boat his father saw upon migrating from the Dominican Republic, as he struggles to keep his bodega financially feasible in a slowly gentrifying barrio of New York called Washington Heights. Our hero is not Puerto Rican, but plenty of characters around him are, and honestly, "Caribbeans" are what is being celebrated here. The struggles of the working people. Learning English to not get in trouble. Swallowing your pride and not being different. To not tip the boat, as it were. In The Heights isn't a new story about the struggles, decisions, and language of love that the people of the Caribbean use. But it is the most accurate, and the one that resonates with me the most. From the opening number where Usnavi and his cousin ready the store for customers (and the collection of said colorful customers), to the struggles of young love, to hard choices about coming back "home" as a made person. The unimaginable sorrow of losing a loved one, an Abuela(o). These are all events I am intimately familiar with. Like Clerks before it, it was a film speaking my cinematic lingua franca.
The "Carnaval del Barrio" musical number is the most emblematic of this entire vibe, masterfully shot by John Chu with the astoundingly electric choreography of Christopher Scott. I would be lying if I didn't say that "96,000" (that whole entire pool scene should be studied by American Musical historians), and Abuela's "Paciencia Y Fe" didn't absolutely crush my soul. But I smiled the entire time through.
Why?
Because I think, as I was watching that movie, I finally solved the question that has burned in my friends' lips since I was in grade school:
"What is your favorite movie of all time?"
Well, as of June 10th, 2021, two days before my 40th birthday (you really didn't have to bequeath such a rich and abundant gift, Warner Bros.), I do have a favorite movie. It's a movie that makes me raise my fist in defiance. A movie that allows me to hear my voice again, and again, and not be embarrassed by the characters on screen. I am Usnavi. I am Abuela, I am Washington Heights.
I wasn't born and raised in Washington Heights, in a convenience store on the block. But I know a thing or two about being raised in Ceiba, Puerto Rico, and working a video store/convenience store combo, much like Dante Hicks and Randall Graves so many years before me. In the Heights is my favorite movie of all time, I'm just angry that all these Disney musicals I watched as a kid rubbed off this much influence on me. I'm sure Lin chose them as a platform before for a reason.
Rating:
Streamed on HBO Max
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