IN THE HEIGHTS
LUIS PUTS THIS SUMMER’S BIG MOVIE MUSICAL IN PERSPECTIVE I’M A PROUD PUERTO RICAN, BORN TO A LARGE FAMILY (ONE of five children (two brothers and two sisters)) and raised on the South Side of Williamsburg in the ’80s (brilliantly documented by the Los Sures documentary in 1984). Gangs and drugs were a way of life, but camaraderie and a joy of life were just as prevalent. “Hola, como está?” (Hi there, how are you?) was often met with “Tu sabe, aquí en la lucha” (You know, here in the struggle) which would almost always be followed by “Tu tiene que tener paciencia y fe” (You have to have patience and faith). It was the call and response of eternal optimism. I grew up in a giant apartment building—42 apartments in the complex I lived in. The sounds of Johnny Pacheco, Celia Cruz, and Oscar D’Leon were always loudly playing in the hallways. The smells of pollo guisado, pernil, arroz con gandules and more would waft through the open doors in the hallways. (Doors were kept open because rare was the apartment that owned an air conditioner.) Clotheslines hung from the back of everyone’s windows over the courtyard. The fresh smell of everyone’s clean clothes a welcome delight. Walking through the streets you were always met with the sounds of dominoes rattling as the older men played games for money through a haze of smoke. The local piragua peddler was always one of the most popular people in the neighborhood. It was a sensory feast. All of these sights and sounds were perfectly captured on screen in In the Heights, the wonderful movie adaptation of the Lin-Manuel Miranda Broadway musical. The movie crackles with an energy of authenticity. Everything felt so real. These were the streets I knew, grew up in, and loved. It felt like home.
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Art Department Weekly • Summer 2021
More than just the sights and sounds, the attitudes of the Hispanic elders rang so true. The way the movie is built around dreams (sueñitos) and how the elders will put their lives on hold to support their children or for those they care about is another element that felt like it was ripped right out of the inner city streets. Growing up, I would constantly hear stories about first generation Latinos and their journey into the country. Why they were here, what they were doing now, and what their plans were. So many times it was because they had a dream for their children and wanted a better life. The story of Nina, the intelligent Puerto Rican who carried the hopes and dreams of her family and neighborhood as she left Washington Heights and traveled across the country to go to college hit extremely close to home. The financial burdens placed on her family, the self doubt, the pull to be back home... all spoke to me. When Nina breaks into “Breathe,” it felt like she was singing about my life. When Nina sings “I was the one who made it out!” and “I know that I’m letting you down,” the words are ripped right from my upbringing. Growing up I showed great aptitude in math and art. I always thought I would be the one to raise my family from poverty with my art. In fact it became a bit of a family joke to have me point to my hand and say “I’m gonna save the family with this.” It was all fun until it started to become a reality. The small family joke became something that was repeated to friends and neighbors and to our own neighborhood Abuelita, Dona Sara. As I got accepted to school out West, my little family joke was becoming all too real. My family and I sacrificed so much to
