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Tick, Tick… Boom! is a Stirring, Critical Image of the Impatient Artist


They always tell you it will be hard. Anyone pursuing a career in the arts: acting, singing, writing -sometimes all three, will be told by some authority on the subject that it’s hard work, that it requires deep commitment and deeper patience. You must consistently work at it, you must be willing to wait for it to pay off. And failure and rejection are to be expected -turning out an immediate work of genius like one of your idols simply will not happen. When such setbacks do hit, they’ll be heavy and harsh, and many will find they don’t have the will for that, which is fine. It is immeasurably difficult to succeed as an artist.
Jonathan Larson’s experience, as depicted in his 1990 off-Broadway show Tick, Tick… Boom! and the movie adaptation recently released to Netflix directed by Lin-Manuel Miranda, is relatable to that of a lot of young artists, passionately determined to create something great. Larson spent eight years writing a dystopian rock opera musical called "Superbia", and felt pressured to make it big before turning thirty -all his hopes were tied up in this project and it ultimately never saw the light of day. He did turn this experience into the aforementioned one-man show though, which was modestly received, before creating the musical that would became his legacy, Rent -tragically dying the day of its’ first preview and never seeing it grow into the massive hit he always wanted.
Apart from a few of its’ songs, I don’t much like Rent, and maybe that combined with a script by Dear Evan Hansen’s Steven Levenson and Lin-Manuel Miranda fatigue is why I didn’t watch Tick, Tick… Boom! when it first released back in November. Even as the reviews came out positive and it started to garner awards consideration, I left it on the back-burner to cover other movies. It still looked to me like just a shallow love letter by Miranda to one of his Broadway heroes. What it actually is though is a rather poignant love letter to a man’s desperate need to be heard.
It’s not surprising that for Miranda’s directing debut, he chose an aesthetic that borrows heavily from theatre, Larson’s story being nested in the framing device of the actual minimalist show Tick, Tick… Boom, performed on a stage at a piano with a couple back-up vocalists (the documentary-like narration bookending the film though is entirely unnecessary). It allows, as I imagine the show does, Larson’s subjective interpretation to coexist with his later objective one –he can comment on his mistakes and attitude in-time with reflective clarity. We see the person he becomes in the end at the beginning. Other movies and a great many stage shows have done something similar, but the way that Miranda and Andrew Garfield execute it, with clear immediate love for its’ theatrical roots and authentic joy in the character is rather special.
It’s also nicely surprising that Miranda, for all his personality that bleeds into every project he touches, maintains a personal distance with this film. He’s a great talent, but he’s suffered some overexposure as of late. Yet this movie, a project which he’s had more creative control over than anything since Hamilton is largely devoid of his specific brand. Sure, his background in musical theatre is felt in the direction of the musical sequences, but no more so than it would be in a Bob Fosse or Rob Marshall film. And that divorce from trademark is a good thing, it allows Miranda to prove his capabilities and remove himself from the movie’s identity. It’s not about him after all. The songs are clearly not Miranda’s, they’re Larson’s. The story is not Miranda’s, much as one might be obliged to see parallels, it is undeniably Larson’s.
And Larson, as played by Garfield with incredible sensitivity and energy, has a very meaningful story to tell. As the plot drives towards a workshop on his thirtieth birthday that represents his last chance to sell his passion project, his insecurities, stress, and validation complex are exacerbated. Particularly, he has the big closer song for the end of the first act that he is struggling to write, and has been for years since Stephen Sondheim himself (Bradley Whitford) pointed it out at a class demonstration. His need to emulate Sondheim in terms of the time frame he finishes in is part of what has turned his passion into obsession. And that arbitrary ticking clock hurts him and those he loves. Garfield is great at burrowing into that unhealthy determination, as well as the strain of Gen-X cynicism that would later characterize much of Rent and which keeps him from pursuing other endeavors like his roommate Michael (Robin de Jesús). But that self-aware narrative device keeps him charming, and manages to have it both ways with regards to his creative ambitions: he is cast as both aspirational in his creative drive and love of musical theatre, and as misguided in his consumption by it and disregard for other aspects of his life. His girlfriend Susan (Alexandra Shipp) breaks up with him over it, and late in the film a dramatic bombshell is dropped on him that emphasizes just how minor his artistic setbacks are in the grand scheme of things.
Tick, Tick… Boom! doesn’t refer to a countdown to some specific accomplishment but to the brevity of our lives. I appreciate that Miranda understands how real the former can be for many artists -certainly I can relate; but he consoles and comforts with the fact that there is no clock for one’s potential, and that trying to beat one is fruitless and negligent to what really matters. Larson was living in a time, place, and community where he especially needed to be reminded of that. The AIDS crisis is constantly there in the background of Tick, Tick… Boom! until it can no longer be ignored -people in Larson’s immediate circles were getting sick and dying, and when the magnitude of that hits, it hits hard. However, there is some dismay felt in that the story essentially uses a gay man’s AIDS diagnosis to bring out the critical character development of a healthy straight guy -as valiant as it renders the films’ core message.
Oh, and in case I didn’t mention it, the movie is a musical. This of course is Miranda’s comfort zone, and he adopts some fine techniques in shooting the musical sequences cinematically, making imaginative breaks with the two planes of reality  -and more than the songs themselves often this is what allows them to work. The songs are generally quite good, even the one for "Superbia" that is rehearsed a lot; but its’ the direction and cinematography as well as the dedication of the performances, specifically from Garfield -who proves a capable singer- that gives resonance to “Boho Days”, “Come to Your Senses”, “Louder Than Words”, or the manic “Therapy”. The highlight though does not so much accentuate Garfield or even Miranda or Larson, but Sondheim. “Sunday” was written as a light-hearted parody of the similarly titled number from Sunday in the Park with George, a fantasy sequence in the diner Larson works at that features cameos from a wealth of Broadway royalty including Bebe Neuwirth, Joel Grey, and Bernadette Peters (in his one ego stroke, Miranda also brings in Phillipa Soo and Renée Elise Goldsberry to make a Hamilton reference). It’s the most openly theatrical number, the most bombastic, and in light of Sondheim’s death, the most poignant.
Sondheim himself is in this film, in the form of a voicemail left with Larson at the end that he gratefully recorded for Miranda. A nice tribute couched within a tribute to an entirely different artist. And it speaks to that faith the film has in the rewards of perseverance. Both Larson and Sondheim have achieved immortality in the world of theatre, and nobody really cares now  at what age they broke through. The work stands for itself. That ‘tick, tick… boom’ was never important, which is why Tick, Tick… Boom! is.

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