Four stars. Rated PG, for bits of dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.22.17
This lavish, opulently stylish
musical, based very loosely on the
early life and career of Phineas Taylor Barnum, is a slice of magic realism in
the style of last year’s La La Land.
First-time director Michael
Gracey delivers this splashy romp with a degree of razzle-dazzle that would
have delighted Barnum himself. Given Gracey’s earlier credits as a visual
effects artist and supervisor, we shouldn’t be surprised by the often stunning
production and dance numbers, many of them powered by Ashley Wallen’s
breathtaking choreography.
As is true of many musicals, some
of Benj Pasek and Justin Paul’s original songs are Barnum-style show-stoppers;
others ... sorta-kinda just hang there. The power anthems attached to the best
sequences, however, will be remembered long after the lights come up: most
notably the title song and “This Is Me,” the latter a triumphant statement of
personal dignity, on behalf of the colorful but publicly shunned members of
Barnum’s performing troupe.
The film also maintains its
momentum thanks to Hugh Jackman’s vibrant performance as Barnum: a role that
allows the actor to exercise the singing and dancing chops he displayed so magnificently
in the stage musical The Boy from Oz
(a side of his talent likely overlooked by those familiar only with various
Marvel superhero movies).
Casting directors Tiffany Little
Canfield and Bernard Telsey took care to avoid the mistake made in La La Land, which would have been vastly
superior with two stars who actually could sing and dance. Jackman’s
spellbinding performance is ably supported by a similarly adept roster of
co-stars, beginning with the equally enthusiastic Zac Efron, returning to the
genre that made him a star in the High
School Musical trilogy.
Jenny Bicks and Bill Condon’s
script plays fast and extremely loose with Barnum’s actual life, although they
certainly get the tone right: a masterpiece of style over substance, with the
same wink-wink-nudge-nudge hokum that the celebrated showman practiced himself.
A brief childhood prologue
suggests that young Barnum’s impossible ambitions — as the only son of a poor,
working-class father — get their momentum from his immediate devotion to
Charity, the aristocratic girl who catches his eye, and grows up to become his
wife. Their younger selves are played charmingly by Ellis Rubin and Skylar
Dunn, and they share a touching ballad — “A Million Dreams” — that carries the
narrative to adulthood and marriage (Michelle Williams taking over as Charity).
Now ensconced in the whirlwind of
mid-19th century New York City, frustrated by a series of clerking jobs, Barnum
hatches a mad scheme financed by a bald-faced bank swindle: a museum of the
unusual and unseen. But it’s primarily a static waxworks show that proves of
little interest to passersby.
“You need something living,” his young daughters Caroline
and Helen insist (the two girls winningly played by Austyn Johnson and Cameron
Seely).