Remakes Finally Find Their Footing With "West Side Story"

Against all odds, Spielberg's re-imagining is a genuinely good movie.

May 1, 2022

On April 9, 1962, Fred Astaire presented the Academy Award for Best Picture to West Side Story. It was the movie's 10th Oscar, leaving it one shy of both a clean sweep and the record (tied with Ben-Hur) for the most Oscars won by a single film. It was the phenomenon adapted from the Tony-winning musical of the same name. It had color, panache, sparkle, and romance; it was young love staged against tragedy, like the Shakespeare play from which it got inspired. It was Golden Age filmmaking at its technical finest.

Underneath its colorful veneer was a movie lacking the substance it believed it possessed. It fancied itself a commentary on immigrant life in America, a rousing, musical celebration of young love, and a moving display of the inevitable tragedy it births. It had the staging to distract us from how untrue that all was and did so to the tune of becoming the year's highest-grossing domestic release. As the decades passed, the untimely death of Natalie Wood and the lively cast of characters lent the film an adoring fan base and a monumental cultural legacy. It was the musical to end all musicals. Toying with it did not seem a gamble worth taking, even as studios seemed bent on taking every risk imaginable.

Hollywood’s pocket-poaching gimmicks have created deep resentment, killing trends as quickly as they were born. We marveled at the 3D craze with James Cameron’s Avatar but grew tired of the eye-straining glasses that added little visual appeal. We clamored for reboots and sequels to reunite with beloved franchises, only to discover our adoration for self-seriousness had gone too far. We anticipated remakes for all the alterations that could get made with modern technology, only to get disappointed by creations so aligned with the original they offered nothing new.

As such, it was puzzling when theaters reopened post-pandemic with LED-illuminated posters advertising the Christmas arrival of West Side Story. It was not a holiday re-release to lure older filmgoers fearful of disease. It was a re-imagining, seeking to rope in audiences with the world’s most famous director re-creating one of cinema’s most beloved stories. As we passed by, gazing upon the familiar title art set against an all-black backdrop, one question raced through our collective consciousness: “Why?”

Regardless of sentiment for the original, it seemed a foolish enterprise. Many beloved classics have found themselves re-made or re-produced and rarely to positive results. Updates turn rose-colored glasses gray, corrupting everything that drew us to the original with visual tricks. We were not wrong to anticipate that this remake would be nothing but a money-grub. Amazingly, we were wrong. Somehow, someway, tonight, tonight (and for many to come), West Side Story is a good movie.

Remakes often fail, but West Side Story proves that is an indictment of those who undertake them. It is not enough to rely on the heavy lifting of past creators. A new spin must do precisely that: spin. It cannot stand and watch as its predecessor’s vision plays out once again. It must capture the essence while taking advantage of new capabilities. West Side Story understands the value of remaking movies. It is not honoring past works with reverence, adhering to their structure, and thus suffering their limitations. We seek out the new because the familiar can grow tiresome: only through that fabled absence will our hearts grow fonder.

Its break from the original is not faultless. It still relegates the central romance to the two lovers spotting each other from across the room and falling in love five minutes later and for no particular reason. It still relies on two leads that lack the chemistry to make their romance sincere or the talent to justify caring for them individually. It clashes an operatic Maria with a more subdued approach from everyone else, forcing her to stand out when the movie’s greatest strength is aligning everyone with its ambitions.

West Side Story does not seek to contain itself, but it understands how to balance elements to create life instead of faking it by exacerbating them. It strips the staging of the original, discarding the colorful floodlights and painted aesthetic for broken industry, breaking apart buildings and opening up its communities beyond the rival gangs. The conflicts between the Puerto Rican “Sharks” and the Caucasian “Jets” have legs outside the walls of a gymnasium or the end of the street where an elderly shopkeeper toes the line between racial divides. It gets recognized by police chiefs and school administrators. Anita and Bernardo do not confine their song and dance about the merits of immigration to a rooftop in the dead of night: they take to the streets, roping in their entire community. As the movie creates thematics outside the city block to which the original restricted itself, we see a world open up, and the social commentary that got lost in 1961 rings true.

It is the product of adapting to the times, refusing to reduce everyone to broad ideas of what life means depending on who you are and from where you come, even if it does not strike as hard as it thinks. West Side Story does not swing for the thematic fences, but it accepts its responsibility in at least stepping to the plate. The ideas act as a Randy Johnson fastball or a Sandy Koufax curve, and thus the movie misses a couple of swings. Considering the story through which it aims to offer its wisdom, simply fouling off a few pitches is a successful at-bat. Fortunately, it exceeds expectations with a few base hits. It wants to say something and be more than just a musical, and it mostly succeeds, although its self-imposed limitations prevent full greatness.

West Side Story's biggest flaw, outside of its two leads, is committing only to certain changes. It humanizes Riff, tightens the music to make it a product of its story instead of a deviation, and adds brutality to the famous rumble instead of turning it into a comic dance fight, but struggles to maintain its will and create all the necessary separations. It still reduces the duel between nationalism vs. the American dream to a battle of the sexes, painting only women as people of ambition and men as nothing but creatures of pride. It still includes a dance fight, an overlong sequence where Riff and Tony “battle” for possession of a gun, which cannot earn its teary conclusion because the lead-up is ridiculous. It does not detach from the burdened suspension of disbelief: police cannot unveil the location of the rumble despite two massive gangs draped in chains and carrying weapons spending hours marching to the destination. It gives a vague allusion to a pro-transgender stance: an admirable attempt at organic inclusion that undermines its cause by failing to explore it outside a bizarre sequence where the character becomes a martial arts master. Although it gives brief allusions to self-awareness, it soaks itself in Tony and Maria’s ill-fated romance, never altering the circumstances of their developing affections to evolve them beyond a forced affair with no foundation.

But when West Side Story breaks from tradition to establish its own course, it thrives. The chaos of the dance floor does not part for Tony and Maria; they spot one another through it. It’s a small detail, but one that reflects why this re-imagining surpasses the original. The world does not stop spinning for our lovers, musical numbers, or any message the movie wishes to impart. It sings and struts, but West Side Story cares more for its story than its songs. Tony and Maria may not have a romance befitting a 156-minute investment, but it gets layered by Tony’s criminal past and the vision he sees for himself through his love for Maria.

It never sacrifices personality for music. As the detained Jets strew about the precinct holding area, they sing cheekily about their troubled upbringings and the role of nurture in their criminal activity. It imparts insight into their perspective on the world and the cause of their xenophobia but never forgets their New York roots. In taking the time to grant its characters more than cliche for the sake of cliche, we can enjoy their bouts with iniquity as much as we ponder its cause and the tragedy of children who never had a chance. We cannot loathe them because West Side Story charms even when the subject matter itself is not charming. As such, it can be artistic without feeling smug. It can switch clothes on a line to swap framing. It can line streets with carved-up buildings. It can indulge its director’s love affair with Lawrence of Arabia as the rivaling races show each other up on a gymnasium floor.

It could have committed more to its ideals, and it should have stayed true to its self-actualization. It abandons its individuality to cater to the original, stuffing in every musical number instead of making the necessary cuts.

Still, West Side Story is the rare remake that justifies the artform. It takes what made the original work and accepts the rare understanding that change is good. It alters the aesthetic, tightens the musical reins, and leans more into saying something and letting its story soar, even if it squeaks more than it sings and coasts more than it flies. It is entertaining, fun to look at, and improves markedly over the original. It may prove Spielberg’s final bow, and it may be the one that breaks his back, but that is fine. According to Anita, that will definitely get covered by American health insurance.