In a world oversaturated by lazy musical pop collections and Disney live-action adaptations, West Side Story is a refreshing trip to theatrical nostalgia that dares to dream big, Spielberg conducting yet another euphoric masterclass. Musical film, out of all the possible genres, is certainly my least studied. It isn’t for a lack of trying, but I have begun to realise a pattern of thoughts that occur once the background chatter fades out, the piano starts, and Troy Bolton begins his melodramatic soliloquy comparing his relationship to basketball: I would prefer a heartfelt and human scene rather than the surrealism of breaking into song. There are, obviously, a handful of exceptions such as Taron Egerton’s portrayal of Elton John or Chazzelle’s electrifying La La Land, but as I watch the modern remediation of theatrical musicals I feel disconnected with the world; as if the screen cannot live up to the stage. Spielberg understands my prejudices but stands his ground, dispelling them quickly with a snap, kick, and twirl, shaming me for my hesitance. An adaptation of the 1957 stage musical, West Side Story is a reimagining of Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers, this time race...