tick, tick... BOOM! (2021)

Score: 3 / 5

One of my most anticipated movies of the year, tick, tick...Boom! is also one of the most disappointing to me. Not because it's "bad" in any dubious attempt at objectivity, but because, for this fan, it's not representative of the musical on which it is based. The show, which features three actors in total, perhaps isn't rich with cinematic possibility, I'll grant, but Lin-Manuel Miranda's directorial debut seems determined to make this a big-budget movie musical for the ages. And while some of his choices are inspired and inspiring, many more feel inflated with a profoundly off-putting sense of self-importance. Which might be appropriate, come to think on it, given its main character.

To be fair, Jonathan Larson's original show with the same title was, in fact, a musical monologue of sorts, and it is a dramatization of this which takes up a large portion of the film. Andrew Garfield, in Oscar-worthy form, enters the stage with panache and urgency in telling the autobiographical story much as Larson himself had in the early '90s. In his delivery, he talks about the incessant internal clock ticking as he's about to turn 30 and has nothing to show for it. He's been working for more than a decade as a waiter in a diner while concocting a sci-fi musical called Superbia, which is finally about to be workshopped for the first time. His hopes and aspirations -- he introduces himself at a party as "the future of musical theatre" -- are dangerously tied into his self-worth, so much so that he has no money to support his meager lifestyle. His best friend and roommate Michael is "moving on up to the east side," his girlfriend is trying to get a better job out of town, and his friends are dying of AIDS one by one, and while these things clearly wear on his mind and heart, Jon can't quite focus his attention on any of them.

Much like the whirlwind of Larson's mind, the film careens wildly between its scenes. Bizarre editing forces us to jump from Larson's musical monologue, where his narration teeters on the manic, to a more or less realistic version of events in his flat and the surrounding environs. The plot is less important in this project than theme, and so the film is essentially a character study of its protagonist/narrator, which allows some forgiveness for peripatetic storytelling. Garfield's Larson is a genius, frustrated at the annoyances of the everyday world that take away from his creative time. He is occasionally mentored by his idol, the late great Stephen Sondheim (Bradley Whitford and, in a voicemail, the man himself); he also writes odd little "jingles" during the day to help pass the time and entertain his friends. He also swims regularly at the YMCA, hosts parties for theatrical friends, and sabotages his own half-hearted attempts to earn real money at a potentially soul-sucking white collar job.

Miranda clearly understands the character and the real man -- he once played Larson onstage in this musical -- and he loads the film with countless references to other shows (especially Rent), other artists, and of course, the '90s. Turning the film into a consummate work of fan service, he puts in as many famous faces and cameos as he seemingly could, especially into the most meta musical number in the show, "Sunday," which features so many stars the actual meaning of the number is almost lost behind the limelight. And that's largely true of the film as a whole: Miranda channels Larson so well that the film's pretentious delivery feels neglectful of the things that really matter, cashing in on weepy sentimentality over marginalized people even as it hamstrings their efforts to be heard. Don't believe me? Check out that, after Michael reveals his diagnosis, his solo "Real Life" is limited in the film to him crying and gazing out a window as he repeats the four-word chorus and none of the actual song.

And then there's the film's weird push to act like a documentary, using what appears to be stock footage in a small frame to apparently dramatize Larson's young, brief life, and using the actors for voiceover narration, twice referencing his untimely death and often explicitly tying this work to Rent. It's possibly the most heavy-handed directing and writing I've seen all year, and it felt more overwhelming than entertaining.