Wednesday, December 20, 2017

The Greatest Showman: An apt superlative

The Greatest Showman (2017) • View trailer 
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.

When shameless promoter P.T. Barnum (Hugh Jackman, right) decides to gain some
respect from New York City's aristrocratic elite, he seeks out respected author and
playwright Phillip Carlyle (Zac Efron). But will this writer of failed plays be willing to
descend from his lofty perch?
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).


This prompts Barnum’s inspired master stroke, at which point he builds a fresh production after scouring the city for its unloved and unwanted misfits, concealed behind cloaks and closed doors: General Tom Thumb (Sam Humphrey); Lettie Lutz, the “Bearded Lady” (Keala Settle); trapeze artists W.D. Wheeler (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) and his sister Anne (Zendaya); the “Albino Dancers” (Mishay Petronelli and Caoife Coleman); and additional oddities such as the “dog boy,” a giant, a strong man, the “world’s fattest man” and conjoined twins Chang and Eng.

Bicks and Condon’s script doesn’t entirely shy from the ethical misgivings and moral controversy at the heart of Barnum’s exploitation of these people. The diminutive Charles Stratton — soon to be re-christened Tom Thumb — voices such concerns when approached by Barnum, worried that he’ll be mocked by the public.

“They already do that,” Barnum replies, much too glibly. “You may as well get paid for it.”

We wince at that line, as is intended; Jackman puts genuine compassion into Barnum’s next, far gentler response, now selling this as an opportunity for empowerment. It’s definitely a candy-coated reading of an environment that couldn’t possibly be as warm and cozy as this film depicts, but that’s the whole point: This is the kinder, gentler reading of Barnum’s vision, made romantic for today’s politically correct sensibilities.

Everything comes together in the first spectacular production number, “Come Alive,” powered by a stylish blend of Wallen’s choreography and awesome visual effects trickery supplied by an army of folks from Brainstorm Digital, Raynault VFX, MPC Montreal and EDI Effetti Digitali Italiani, among others.

Other highlights include the athletic “The Other Side,” a two-man romp by Jackman and Efron, when Barnum — determined to earn approval not merely from “the masses,” but also from New York’s aristocratic set — cajoles reluctant playwright Phillip Carlyle (a fictitious character, played by Efron) to join the team. Once on board, Efron and Zendaya share an equally magical trapeze pas de deux, when Phillip tries to persuade Anne that his love for her is genuine.

Most of the “performances” don’t display much in the way of acting range; Gracey goes for spectacle rather than thespic chops. That said, the film does offer unexpected emotional depth, the best coming from Settle’s Lettie Lutz, who becomes spokeswoman for the troupe, and never misses an opportunity to remind Barnum of their dignity.

That becomes particularly crucial when Barnum’s quest for upper-class legitimacy — motivated, in part, by a series of stinging newspaper reviews by critic James Gordon Bennett (Paul Sparks, quietly sublime) — leads him to sponsor an American tour by soprano Jenny Lind (Rebecca Ferguson), the “Swedish Nightingale” then enormously popular in Europe, but unknown in the States.

We anticipate the impending romantic triangle, as does Charity: a narrative hiccup that affords Williams the opportunity for some delicate shading. But even at its most angst-laden, the narrative never threatens the film’s family-friendly PG rating.

The flamboyant, Steampunk-modern-fantasy-pop show vibe comes courtesy of production designer Nathan Crowley, who earned one of his three Academy Award nominations working with Jackman on 2006’s The Prestige. He and cinematographer Seamus McGarvey ensure that we’re never less than amazed, even during the film’s quieter moments.

At an economical 105 minutes, The Greatest Showman understands the importance of leaving its audience wanting more. That’s actually somewhat frustrating, because the narrative concludes just as the actual Barnum’s life was about to get really interesting. (During one of his two terms as a Republican member of the Connecticut legislature, he famously spoke in favor of the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, insisting that “A human soul, ‘that God has created and Christ died for,’ is not to be trifled with. It may tenant the body of a Chinaman, a Turk, an Arab or a Hottentot; it is still an immortal spirit.”)

But Gracey obviously wasn’t concerned with subsequent chapters in Barnum’s career; the goal was to give us an extravaganza worthy of the unapologetic huckster who, later in life, said, “I am a showman by profession ... and all the gilding shall make nothing else of me.”

And in that, everybody involved definitely succeeded.

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