West Side Story

WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?

This essay about the differences between the original stage presentation of West Side Story and its well-known film adaptation is divided into sections corresponding to the breakdown of stage scenes as shown below. This synopsis of scenes is also a menu to assist in navigating to different areas of the page. Clicking the underlined Description or Scene Number will take you to the corresponding section. Clicking the title logo located at various intervals throughout the essay will return you to this menu. [An unenhanced reading and printable version is available here. Use your browser's Back button to return.]

Introduction

ACT ONE

Overture

Prologue
"The Months Before"

Scene One
The Street: Jet Song

Scene Two
A Back Yard: Something's Coming

Scene Three
A Bridal Shop

Scene Four
A Gym: The Dance at the Gym; Maria

Scene Five
A Back Alley: Tonight; America

Scene Six
The Drug Store: Cool

Scene Seven
The Bridal Shop: One Hand One Heart

Scene Eight
The Neighborhood: Quintet

Scene Nine
Under the Highway: The Rumble

Intermission

ACT TWO

Entr'acte

Scene One
A Bedroom: I Feel Pretty; Somewhere

Scene Two
Another Alley: Gee, Officer Krupke

Scene Three
The Bedroom: A Boy Like That; I Have a Love

Scene Four
The Drugstore: Taunting

Scene Five
The Cellar

Scene Six
The Street

Finale

The screenplay of West Side Story is as faithful a Hollywood adaptation of a Broadway musical as exists in the canon, and while it remains true to much of Arthur Laurents' original book, the filmmakers' reverence for the source material did not preclude a number of significant changes in bringing the play to the screen. The obvious reason for certain changes was an obligatory effort to remove from the work suggestive and possibly offensive language and ideas, acceptable to 1957 theater audiences but still prohibited to 1961 filmgoers. Other alterations grew naturally out of the valuable opportunity to re-think old questions and problems, and still others were effected, inevitably, because a movie screen is filled out differently than a live stage is. The director, a man who had previously worked as a film editor on Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons, was embarking on the project with a considerable knowledge of cinema technique and opportunity; the success and reputation of Robert Wise before and since West Side Story was not achieved merely by placing a camera in front of the actors and photographing a proscenium production. The results are too well known to be reviewed and lauded here, but the differences between the more popular work and its antecedent are worth comparing. I truly make no deliberate effort to insist or even persuade that one version, even one segment, is better than its opposite, and whatever preferences discerned herein must be accepted as mere inevitable opinions and not recommendations or instructions. Proselytize we mustn't. References to the film are based almost entirely on viewing the work. References to the play resulted mostly from studying the libretto, specifically as published by Random House, but also from the very good fortune of attending live productions directed and/or choreographed by Jerome Robbins, Gerald Freedman, Tom Abbott, Lee Becker Theodore and Alan Johnson, from which were obtained certain matters of staging, choreography, costuming, etc. not cited in detail in the playscript.

Overture.
It is the live presentation, where some fanfare would not be unexpected, that opens quietly, even sedately, while the film version, whose medium is better suited to subtleties, opens instead with a stereophonic rendition by an orchestra that is seventy members strong. Broadway audiences were not offered the opportunity to stare, puzzled and quietly fascinated, at that rainbowing graphic opening of the film. Although the Overture is not played in the productions that strictly follow the example of the original (not to mention the wishes of the composer), a stage Overture indeed exists. I heard this music, played by the standard-sized twenty-five piece orchestra, the first time I saw a live production of the show in New York in 1964, though it is omitted from the published conductor's score and also from the Deutsche Grammophon recording that Mr. Bernstein conducted. Interested listeners can hear the stage Overture on a recording incorrectly described as the Original London Cast Recording #GRF-1113 as well as the musically abundant recording by Jay Productions, #CDJAY2 1261, featuring members of the 1992 Leicester Haymarket cast. Much of the piece is identical to the Overture heard in the film, but there are at least two changes worth noting, one major and one minor: The signature theme of the original concept, "Somewhere," was removed (a symbolic preview of the reduced status the song receives in the body of the film) and substituted by the already popular "Maria." The film version has as its conclusion the same Quintet music with which it began, and thus the film starts with a suggestion of urgency and foreboding, and not with the party sound of the Mambo that concludes the stage version.

Nor, of course, do the well-known and much-admired opening aerial shots of New York City have a counterpart on stage. This ingenious technique effectively describes the vastness of the city and the relatively trivial space the gangs are so desperate to control, while it also builds interest, not to say suspense (ably aided by the soundtrack) as the focus eventually reaches the Jets. On stage, the curtain rises noiselessly and the play begins.

Prologue: The Months Before.
The youthful energy and enthusiasm of the Jets is transported across the footlights almost at once, without subtlety or build-up. The creators trusted Broadway audiences not to be surprised or dismayed by seeing the curtain rise on several street youths who immediately begin to dance (although dance, as opposed to song or dialogue, was not the ordinary start of a typical musical). The collaborators did not have the same confidence in the film-going public, and so the Prologue proceeded much more slowly and developed over a longer time span. The first shot of the film Jets does not demonstrate the same free-spirited buoyancy; they are solemn, virtually frozen, and stiff-jawed. When they move they move slowly, animals cautiously surveying the terrain, rather than joyous boys freely reveling in their safe and unchallenged territory. Thus the initial meeting with Bernardo, several against one, is more pronounced on stage, occurring as it does much sooner in the piece, more intrusively, and without any subliminal warnings that may be telegraphed from the wary expectation evident in the film Jets.

Through the skillful use of an impromptu basketball session, the boys' athleticism is finally revealed, a stepping stone to the dancing that follows it. Now some of the woodenness is removed, though none of the toughness, as the gang members walk, stretch, strut, and finally go into a dance. For all the effort and careful timing, the preparation and build-up has not worked for the harshest critics, those who insist that the stylized dance, taken directly from the stage version, does not work against realistic street sets (another obvious difference from the play, where sparse, even abstract scenery did the job). The film has survived sensible criticisms and minor quibbles alike, but at this point in time we should agree that if we don't like dancing street gangs we are in the wrong theater.

A suggestion of the Jets as nice guys is made without emphasis, but with a certain subliminal artistry. Prior to the run-ins with the Sharks, three examples of Jets as non-hostile neighborhood slackers present themselves in the film, though, it is noted, through neither dialogue nor lyric: The stray baseball is ungrudgingly returned, likewise the "borrowed" basketball, but not so quickly, and the little girl continues her playground activity undisturbed, unthreatened. No such events exist in the stage version, where, admittedly, the conflicts start almost immediately, without much chance (or need) to establish this curious impression of the Jets.

Running throughout this sequence in both versions are the encounter with the Sharks' leader, the exchange of skirmishes and pranks, the (metaphorically) growing number of Puerto Ricans and the increased efforts by the Jets to keep them at bay. On stage there is no truck to stand behind, no playground or garbage dump or fruit stand; the pouring of paint is a substitute for a bash over the head with a flour sack. While some steps and movements are literally identical to those in the earlier version, the film enjoys the great luxury of a wide backdrop of open air in actual city streets. One missed opportunity, unavailable on stage, was the chance to inform the audience that everything that happens to a certain point of the action is a kind of newsreel of the events that had taken place over a period of weeks and months before the rest of the story, and it is literally a prologue to the dramatic events that follow. The published version of the screenplay shows an intention to go this route, with the sequence clearly occurring over the course of time, with night changing to day changing to night again. Here too existed the opportunity for the characters to change costumes scene by scene, even wear light jackets in the earliest sequence, clearing up any mistaken notion that all these things happened within a ten-minute interval on the same day as the action that follows it. The idea was scrapped and so the timetable of these events, described in a theater playbill as "The months before," is not so clearly indicated to the filmgoer.

The first Prologue segment that can be identified as happening the same day as the main action is when the Sharks jump Baby John, who is creating some anti-Shark graffiti in a back alley, and chase him back to the playground, where his ear is slashed by Bernardo. The incident is referred to during the War Council as having happened earlier that afternoon. This is the final straw that causes the all-out free-for-all to which the police are summoned. In the play, the victim is A-rab and not Baby John, and the number of cops who show up are two, and not the three from the film (note both Schrank and Krupke emerge from the passenger side of the cruiser, with the car practically still in motion.)

Act One Scene One: 5:00 P.M. The Street.

A couple of brief incidents after the scuffle indicate the filmmakers' desire to bring the movie Bernardo more significantly into the mix than his stage counterpart ever was, and with no time wasted. While both gang leaders tweak the cops with their respective "Top of the day" gibes, it is only in the film where Bernardo takes the extra swipe at the Lieutenant: "Would you mind translating that into Spanish," a remark that seems to win the casual approval of his rival Riff. The camera's close-up on Bernardo's reaction to Schrank's harsh dismissal of the Sharks, obviously not available to the stage audiences, establishes, certainly and swiftly, his own animosity to the police officer. (A stage Bernardo can certainly establish the same sentiment but not with such admirable subtlety. The comparative techniques and acting/directing opportunities for stage vs. screen are topics for another forum.)

Schrank's speech to the Jets runs in the same vein in both versions. The subsequent segment is the first chance we have to hear the Jets speak only among themselves. Several personalities emerge—if names do not—as we are introduced to the first string of Jets, but the film manages to omit several key points from the stage version. It is during this scene that the stage Jets inform the audience that

The ear-piercing attack by Bernardo, seemingly provoked by an innocent, even childish stunt of mischief in the film, on stage was the result of a more serious incident in the Puerto Rican's parents' store.

The attitude of the Jets toward the newcomers is a legacy from their parents ("my old man says…"). The film version omits this fact of life.

The duration of Tony's desertion from the Jets, unstated in the film, is clearly a mere month, coincident to the month, as we later learn, that Maria has been in the country (however the suggestion that Tony's separation might have been the work of a neighborhood youth assistance agency, and not an independent decision, is an innovation of the film).

The Jets have an established hierarchy with military/aviation references (Acemen, Rocketmen) that suggest a regimental discipline not explored in the later work, but one most definitely comparable to the structure of real-life street gangs. The gang jackets (i.e. uniforms) were abandoned for the film as well, perhaps a concession to the notion that the story takes place in the summer. A couple of military references made the cut, but they are vague and disconnected without the specific and solid image of the city-streets platoon formation as performed on stage: (1) Riff refers to himself and Bernardo as "Commanders" during the War Council, and (2) "War Council" itself is repeated several times, a term that Anita, for one, and perhaps the audiences as well, finds a bit childishly grandiose.

The intention of Jerome Robbins was to give even the silent gang members names and identities and, presumably, a short biographical history to save them the indignity of "just" being mute chorus members. On the Shark side, the transition to film led to some ethnic uniformity in the names and nicknames; where some of the stage Sharks had as names such English words as "Nibbles," "Anxious," and "Moose," on film they became "Chile," "Del Campo," "Loco" and "Rocco," this last perhaps more Italian than Hispanic but, with the part being played by a fellow named Roquemore, we're letting it slide.

A filmgoer waiting for the Jet Ice to come forward will not find him in the stage version. This character is unique to the film. In the original, Riff's lieutenant is Diesel (and not Action as is frequently assumed, although Action certainly will ultimately become the self-appointed heir to the Jet leadership, mostly by virtue of his own loud and aggressive temperament.) Upon his entrance, the playscript describes Lieutenant Schrank as having a "charming, pleasant manner," a description that was clearly re-thought for the film, and with noteworthy results: With all due respect to his stage predecessors and successors, in his brief time on screen Simon Oakland created a master villain—no chinks, no unsuspected heart of gold, and no eleventh-hour crusty, grudging thawing out. In the stage version, Riff instructs the Jets to "cut the frabbajabba," suggesting that Action's later use of the phrase is not merely as a piece of slang out of left field but a possible indication that he is emulating his dead leader as he tries to walk in his footsteps. The first scene demonstrates the screenwriter's skill in replacing objectionable material. Prudishness aside, A-rab's response to Anybodys' plea to join the gang is less vulgar and undeniably funnier on film. Similarly, the Jet Song as sung on stage contains the suggestive lyric "Mother-loving," which was scrubbed from the later work, along with "spit hits the fan." The musical number also gives the film audience the first glimpse of the acrobatics with which the character of Riff is so closely associated—"Tumblin' by Tamblyn."

Act One Scene Two: 5:30 P.M. A Back Yard.

For the most part this scene runs the same course in both versions. Instead of hauling bottles of Coke down the stairs, the stage Tony is painting a sign for the storefront, a gesture of affection for Doc that goes almost entirely unstated in the film. In his efforts to get Tony involved in the War Council, Riff hears the former leader's derision for the gang ("Acemen, Rocketmen," here spoken by Tony not with pride but with a condescending sneer.) The sarcasm addresses the point that Tony is an unmannered street kid himself, and thus more down-to-earth than the character in the film. Tony's continued resistance to the Jets makes the stage Riff alert to the possibility that the friendship is waning. The film Riff, played with open, wacky cheer, has no such concerns. This scene too is briefly scrubbed by the cleaning committee: The tag line "Birth to earth" is a substitute for the presumably racier "Sperm to worm." In certain professional stage productions Tony's professed severance from the Jets is belied by a clever costuming idea that expeditiously extends the scope of Tony's character: In this scene, and later in the bridal shop, despite the presumed heat and the painting chore, Tony is wearing a jacket with the word "Jets" boldly written across the back, and thus the audience is visually reminded and reminded again of his origins, of his former commitment and connection, despite the defections and denials in the dialogue.

Act One Scene Three: 6:00 P.M. A bridal shop.

The scene that is noteworthy for introducing Maria also introduces, and not incidentally, the colorful Anita as well. The screenwriter took his very first opportunity to project the flavor and spark of Anita's flashy personality, without upstaging Maria or the two men who soon join them. Her flippant remarks ("We won't bite you...," "What am I, cut glass?") are new to the film, and this fiery character is established far ahead of her stage counterpart. On stage, Maria tries to persuade Anita that the dress she is preparing to wear is "no longer a dress for kneeling;" on film, it is "no longer a dress for praying." Anita's original tart reply, which had sexual connotations, was cleansed accordingly and consequently connotes very little. In the play, Maria states that she is marrying Chino one year hence, or at bottom generally making the point that she will be married in that time and her carefree days of dancing will be over. No such timetable is mentioned in the film.

Act One Scene Four: 10:00 P.M. The Gym.

The Dance at the Gym is a highlight of both versions. Other than the ballet it is the only musical number that includes members of both gangs, male and female. The film version edges out the competition by virtue of actually being the film version: The large room can be seen from various angles, directions and heights, close-ups are used to great advantage, and the room is crammed with many more dancers than there are credits. But the course of action generally runs the same in both presentations. The same line of demarcation exists on stage as on film, with the Sharks on the (viewer's) left and the Jets on the right. This placement recurs at several key points in the play. A portion of the challenge dance is longer in the film version, again showcasing the acrobatic skills of Russ Tamblyn as Riff.

A single line of Bernardo's was altered here with powerful results: On stage, when Riff invites him to step outside to discuss the situation, the Shark leader's response is "I would not leave the ladies here alone." As far as it goes this is a well-packed delivery: It states his Latin courtliness and (not incidentally) postpones the action for a more dramatic meeting at Doc's. However, in the film, with the simple addition of four little words ("I would not leave the ladies here alone with your kind around.") he has achieved the same effect and has opportunistically dealt a scathing blow to the character and reputation of the Jets, and especially those of Riff, his bête noire.

Act One Scene Five: 11:00 P.M. A Back Alley.

The transition from the dance to the next scene, which follows Tony out of the gym into the street while he sings "Maria," contains a line of dialogue that constitutes the only acknowledgement in either version of the original reason for Tony's very presence at the dance (Riff says to Diesel, "I guess the kid's with us for sure now"). Without this (erroneous) suggestion that the turn of events has drawn Tony away from the Sharks' leader's sister and back to the home team, Tony's appearance at the dance is somewhat gratuitous and his intended support of Riff and the Jets is patently non-existent, but even this incidental reference appears only in the play.

The end of the song "Maria" brings the action to the first major divergence of the two presentations.

STAGE. At this point on stage, Tony has sung his way to the outside of Maria's apartment building, and now summons her to the window and persuades her to join him in an unforgettable duet. This so-called Balcony Scene is virtually identical to its film counterpart. Afterward, Tony dashes off and Maria ducks back into her bedroom just in time to avoid being seen by the Sharks, who have chosen this exact moment and geographical location to assemble with their girlfriends for a rest stop between the dance and the War Council. After expressing concerns about his sister and re-assuring himself that she was brought home safely, Bernardo indulges himself in some macho horseplay with Anita, expounds on the relative merits of life as a Puerto Rican and as a Polish-American, and departs with the boys to the War Council. Anita is left behind with the girls and undertakes an admittedly extraneous conversation with one of them about the comparative virtues of their lives in San Juan and New York. This song is positioned exactly where it will do the most good. Preceded by the romantic "Maria" and "Tonight," the exuberant "America" provides an energetic and refreshing lift to the proceedings, and is as close as the first act of West Side Story comes to a comedy number. More to the point, it is also a superb showcase for the actress playing Anita—aside from the high visibility the number affords her, her character as a strong-spirited and fun-loving woman, less evident earlier in the bridal shop when compared to the screen Anita—is delivered now without question. The promise she showed in The Dance at the Gym is fulfilled. (Such fulfillment is not offered to Riff's partner Velma, for example, who during the Mambo is working her side of the stage just as hard.) The blackout after the song gives way to the next scene, Doc's drugstore.

FILM. In the film, Tony's rendition of "Maria" is followed by a new indoor scene wherein Bernardo is reading his sister the riot act over the events at the dance, offering the audience another sample of Ernest Lehman's affection for the character of Anita, whose humorous barbs indicate a playful ongoing battle with her boyfriend on matters of his own various shortcomings. The action follows Bernardo and Anita to the roof, where the Sharks are already gathered and waiting for him. The teasing of Anita and the discourse on prejudice have been salvaged intact. Here, it is Chino asking Bernardo about Maria (the reverse happens on stage, where, quite naturally, Chino has escorted her home), and the build-up to the song "America" is much more pertinent to the story: Instead of the disconnected chatter between Anita and the homesick Rosalia that leads up to what is patently a production number, the film takes yet another opportunity to bring the Shark boys forward; the song lyrics, almost entirely re-worked to a broader, infinitely more clever splash of biting wit, give the exchange more humor, sarcasm and relevance than its forebear provided on stage—the sardonic observations of Bernardo and his cronies are at the same time funny and provocative. Anita is more evenly matched now, and sacrifices none of her well-earned attention or affection by sharing the chores with her boyfriend rather than the daffy Rosalia. Here again, by giving the Sharks a voice, the screenwriter has elevated Bernardo to a prominence not enjoyed by his stage counterpart. Some of the dancing from the stage choreography is repeated here, but it is virtually a new number, and a brilliant one at that. The boys' departure now leads back to Maria's bedroom, where she is summoned by Tony to play the Balcony Scene, after which the action picks up at Doc's drugstore.

Act One Scene Six: Midnight. The Drug Store.

The two lines continue their non-parallel run in the first half of this scene. On stage, the Jets are already inside the drugstore, tense, expectant, awaiting not only the Sharks but also, and perhaps more importantly, the arrival of Riff and Diesel. The storeowner, Doc, is absent at the moment. Baby John is enjoying a Superman comic book, and enjoying the apparently routine sport of trading verbal jabs with the tomboy Anybodys. The same situation exists on film, although the gang members, in an inspired intensification of the anxious anticipation, are pacing restlessly outside the store, minus Riff and Ice, and once again minus Doc, an absence more logical out here on the street. The patter between Baby John and Anybodys is extant, but the comic book hero has switched to Captain Marvel, despite the intentions indicated in the published MGM-UA script to reiterate the homage to the Man of Steel.

On stage, Riff and Diesel saunter into the scene with their respective girlfriends, and try to calm the gang's jittery nerves, provoked to no small degree by the store owner, who has no trouble enumerating the difficulties the Jets have brought upon themselves. Riff's calming efforts, directed to the hostile Action in particular but generally to the entire uneasy gang, take the gang into the song "Cool." The Jets are calmed just in time; the number ends and the Sharks enter for the War Council.

On the screen, Riff and Ice show up, with the same girlfriends in swapped partnerships, and the gang, still outdoors, is treated to a visit from the less than formidable Officer Krupke, giving way to the comic song whose title bears his name. The original lyrics underwent some cleansing, and with some of the frank language softened, in the relatively light atmosphere preceding the rumble, the song became less of a sardonic sociological treatise than a scampering vaudeville. As a result of the changes, the singer's father is no longer a bastard, but a wife-beater, and the wife in question is not an S.O.B.; she is, in her turn, a child-beater. Grandpa has traded his alcoholism for allegiance to the Communist Party. And the film, like the Broadway recording, quietly removes the epithet "schmuck," whose exact vulgar meaning is unknown to most English-speaking people who use it. The convenient appearance of a pair of hitherto unseen eyeglasses remains a minor mystery, best unsolved. At the song's conclusion, Doc appears and reluctantly lets the gang into the store. Once inside, the film Doc makes the same faultfinding observations that his stage counterpart did, which ends not with the spectacular "Cool" but with the entrance of the Sharks.

The War Council and the suggestion of a fair fight are parallel in both versions. Bernardo's stage opponent Diesel is substituted by Ice on screen. Also in the film, Schrank's taunting diatribe to the Jets takes his stage inquiry about the action on Action's mother's mattress to a less specific segment of her geography. The film inserts here an indication that the gruff policeman is being either coached or lectured by more social-minded agencies at Police Headquarters, do-gooders with whom he is clearly at odds.

Act One Scene Seven: 5:30 P.M. The Bridal Shop.

At the fire escape, the stage Maria instructed Tony to meet her here at "Sundown;" in the film, the appointment was amended to the less cowboy-Western and more urban "Six o'clock," more in keeping with the mention of "tardes" in this scene and the fact that "sundown" won't occur for several more hours in a New York summer night.

Since the dress shop owner is not a character in the play, the scene opens with Anita announcing to Maria that the lady has already left the premises and the jail is open, proceeding through the discussion of the forthcoming rumble to Tony's entrance. On film things are not that simple. In the original, "I Feel Pretty" is the number that opens the second act of the play and thus immediately follows the rumble in the storyline. For the film, with an eye to preserving the "continuing line of growing tension" after the killings, the filmmakers took the position that this merry tune would threaten, if not destroy entirely, the intended dark mood of the film's second half, and so the song was pushed to this earlier scene. If "I Feel Pretty" is not exactly at home in the new spot, its presence there at least assures the success of a more important mandate, that every song from the score should make it to the film. The recruitment of three extra seamstresses to the modest neighborhood shop may seem to some an unneeded wealth of sewing talent as well as an imprudent financial drain on the business (in the play, Maria and Anita are the only two employees in evidence), but someone had to sing back-up, and considering such alternatives as having the honors done by, say, a browsing bride-to-be with her maid of honor and bridesmaid and future mother-in-law, the finished product is not quite so ridiculous on second thought.

Both roads lead to the same point: Anita previewing a sensual bubble bath and her night of romance with Maria's brother. In the play, Maria already knows about the upcoming battle; in the film, she is informed at this point ("they don't play potsy"), although she seems to understand the word "rumble" without explanation. Either way, her passion for non-violent behavior has been sufficiently awakened to implore Tony, in both visits, to stop the fight. "One Hand, One Heart," quite often the winner in the Least Favorite polls, is a stanza shorter in the film. I would like to think that this curtailment is not a reflection on the song's low standing with just about everyone who is not a prospective bride planning a church wedding, but instead relates to a small piece of business not included in the screen version. The original music gives the stage lovers the time they need to move the mannequins back into place, a chore the better-paid film stars managed to duck, rendering the extra quatrain unnecessary.

Act One Scene Eight: 6:00 to 9:00 P.M. The Neighborhood.
The revered Quintet went through the film process slightly massaged but wonderfully undamaged. In the play both gangs appear on stage together—on their pre-ordained sides of the stage—and sing of their grudging decision to go with the program and their back-up plans if the other gang reneges on the fair-fight deal. The initial verses are re-assigned—in the film the Jets take the first three verses and the Sharks the second three, whereas the original vocals have them alternated, first Jet Shark Jet, then Shark Jet Shark. Anita's enthusiastic anticipation of the evening is candidly sexual on stage ("...don't matter if he's tired, as long as he's hot"), a sentiment that didn't make the filmmakers' cut. During the non-vocal bridge, the two stage cops are seen, not in the front seat of the patrol car as in the film, but on foot of course, encountering the shifty Anybodys, who manages to duck them while concealing a couple of bricks behind her slender back, indicating to the audience her own lack of faith in the fair fight agreement. The second half of the song builds to the same dramatic conclusion in both versions.

On stage, the placement of both gangs facing the audience, flanked by Tony on one side, Anita on the other, and Maria singing from the fire escape, is an exciting portrait in the theater, in the history of musical theater. But with the slightest of changes to the lyrics, the film makes an important and effective re-assessment of the relationship of two key characters. In the original, Riff catches up with Tony and re-assures them both that Tony will be present at the rumble. Tony, presumably with other things on his mind, laconically confirms the agreement. On film, Tony is not with the Jets, and the vocal exchange is between Riff and Ice. Riff is therefore a leader conferring with his own troops, and not the junior replacement leader looking for the support and implied approbation of his former commander. The separation of the Jets from Tony gives the song the correct feel of five different entities, no two attached at this particular moment. On stage, of course, the performers are standing facing the audience, and the expression is almost entirely vocal, with no movement. On film, three of the five parts are in determined motion, strolling, strutting or marching to the fateful appointment. (It is, uncannily and ingeniously, the males who are on the move; the two women, however impassioned [Maria] and animated [Anita] carry forth in place.) This complicated song, whose very nature virtually defies conventional staging and filmmaking, succeeds brilliantly in both versions.

Act One Scene Nine: 9:00 P.M. Under the Highway.

The Jets and Sharks arrive for the rumble from two directions. The Jets do so less dramatically on stage; after the Sharks scale the fence (from their side, as always) the Jets simply walk on from the wings. The film scene has them dropping down from a wall, evening up the effort required to arrive at their destination. During his jeering, Bernardo calls Tony "kiddando," one of a number of words and phrases famously invented by Arthur Laurents with a goal to keep to work from becoming dated. In the film, the same line is used with the word "gallito," Spanish for baby chick, i.e. little chicken. Instead of the chummier-sounding slang, the film Shark manages to impugn courage and the vaunted leadership prowess in one word, without dating the work. This aside, the scene has no noteworthy differences in dialogue, and the movement is virtually identical to the original staging. The film scene only benefits, yet again, from the inspired use of light and camerawork, including a remarkable overhead shot and a brief but effective moment of seeing the grim action at a skewed angle. The first act of the play ends here, with the curtain falling on two dead bodies, and the church bell chiming in the distance

Intermission

Included in the so-called "Collectors' Edition" DVD of the film is a piece called "Intermission Music," a tool that permitted moviehouse owners the opportunity to break the film at one of two logical spots. In my viewing experience this option was not usually taken. When it did occur, the interruption only rarely took place right after the rumble, as it does in the live presentation. More often, the break came between the War Council scene and the scene in the bridal shop ("I Feel Pretty"/"One Hand One Heart"). While providing a far less dramatic first-half climax, this choice does occur at a point that does not interrupt the intended escalating tension that begins with the Quintet, and it has the incidental effect of dividing the story into the two calendar days in which it occurs.

Entr'acte

If the first act was misleadingly quiet in its opening, the beginning of the second act is misleadingly jolly—the audience knows something the musicians clearly do not, namely that two murders have just occurred. If stage audiences were prepared to have the story pick up exactly where it left off, the first three booming notes of gaiety surprise them yet again. Instead of some urgent and frenetic reminder of the rumble, of the general animosity, much less the standard musical comedy recap of the first-act tunes, the audience is treated to the melody of a song they haven't yet heard—an unexpectedly festive "I Feel Pretty."

Act Two Scene One: 9:15 P.M. A Bedroom.

The music continues as the curtain rises on Maria, entertaining three of her friends in her home and quite unaware of the death of her brother. Here the comic aspects of the blonde-dyed Consuelo and the light-headed Rosalia are explored (sometimes these two features are combined in one character, as though the blondeness and the dimness were attributes unlikely to be separated over two women). Maria candidly confides in them her plans for the evening, which she describes as her "wedding night," an admission she did not bring herself to make in the film version of this scene. The point is more or less obscured by the assumption that she is talking about Chino, an error she does not trouble herself to correct. The buoyant chatter leads to the song "I Feel Pretty." Maria is feeling "bright" at this late hour of the night, where her film counterpart, singing in daylight, was famously "gay."

In the film, in the absence of the intermission break, the rumble fades directly to a wide shot of Maria, alone on the rooftop, waiting for her boyfriend. The music is the more subdued cha-cha, to which she dances reminiscently, without a partner.

Viewers more familiar with the film are hard put to understand the success of the merry "I Feel Pretty" at this point in the proceedings. We have already noted the intended "line of tension" that the filmmakers wished to establish from the Quintet/Rumble and continue through to the end of the film, uninterrupted and unbroken. It is true enough that film audiences might be jolted by hearing such a light melody at this point, and the distraction may have indeed torpedoed the success of half of the film. But I submit that stage audiences have sat and watched this particular juxtaposition for many years with no harmful side-effects; the irony, the sheer unexpectedness of the light-hearted rendition, is conversely the essence of the drama: The unfortunate, literally pathetic girl is singing unabashedly of her love for her new beau, when we know, and she does not, that he just murdered her brother. The musical theater does not frequently take such situations to these staggeringly ingenious lengths. On film, it's a merry little tune, dubbed at that, and not much more.

At this point Chino appears in both versions, with the same news, to the same stunned reaction. The film goes the distance by bringing a couple of off-screen voices into the mix, agitated and grief-stricken, dramatically letting us know that Bernardo will be mourned by more than his sister and his girlfriend. In the stage version we learn that Chino has obtained a gun, apparently from the possessions of Bernardo. (In the film, it is Anybodys who delivers the "bad news," later in the scenario and, arguably, with more stunning impact.). Each Maria greets her respective Tony with her fists. And here occurs the most significant departure from the stage script.

On film, Tony tries to re-assure Maria that there is indeed a place where they could be themselves and live happily, free of the hate and horror all around them. He tells her that in song, and she is persuaded, and that is that. The song, "Somewhere," is the least inspired number of the film, though the set is remarkably lit. The lyrics are sung hastily and the dubbed performers offer no conviction that they believe the words. The song ends in a romantic clinch, not quick enough for some.

On stage, the music is not a lullaby, but an extended sequence of many moods. The frenetic beginning is impatient and urgent, effectively describing Tony's anxiety and his determination. The rendition by Larry Kert, heard on the original cast album, surpasses the pedestrian lyric but meets the music head on. Maria and Tony crash through the symbolic fences of their bounded world, and find the space they are seeking. In the original staging, they make their discovery along with five of the Jets and Sharks, ordinarily—and quite intentionally—the five youngest, fresh-faced candidates from the dancers. The lively dance of the scherzo is a child-like frolic in the new world, symbolized with great effect by the carefree youth and uncomplicated cheer of the participants, who find themselves utterly free from any threat, menace or violence. The merriment draws all the dancers of both gangs from four corners to celebrate an exciting moment of declaration in a joyous circle, the traditional symbol of unity and good fellowship. These dancers give way to Maria and Tony, and the music is now the more familiar chorus heard in the film, this time sung by an off-stage singer, originally a soprano, now just as often a baritone. The lovers dance in the same spot as they were when they met at the gym, although this time the two couples behind them are literally integrated, Jet boy dancing with Shark girl and vice versa. Once again this small group is joined by the entire cast, who come together, more seriously now, to share the moment as one community. The dream sequence becomes a nightmare as the two gang leaders appear and, with Tony, pantomime the killings. Maria is thrown to the floor as the sequence crashes to a merciful close, and she is consoled by Tony with the very end of the familiar ballad. The lovers have explored their dream and seen it shattered, and they know that their moment and place is nowhere else but here and now, and they take the moment they are given. The film lovers are not afforded this bleak outlook, and so their consummation of the romance is perhaps more hopeful than desperate. The stage pair evidently re-consider any misgivings as they eventually plan to escape anyway, just as their more naïve film counterparts do, but their glimpse of reality gives them an air of being better prepared for the journey than the screen lovers may be.

Act Two Scene Two: 10:00 P.M. Another Alley.

Both versions take us back to the Jets (eliminating any question, in one man's opinion, whether this is a play about the Jets and their problems with another gang or a play about two gangs and their problems). The film does so via a short scene with A-rab and Baby John that reveals some humanity and vulnerability only briefly addressed in the play. On stage the action is less sentimental and more feverish and distracted. Some of the Jets are seeing each other for the first time since the rumble. Some of the A-rab/Baby John dialogue comes from this conference, which also incorporates some of the street wisdom Riff (in the film) was dispensing before the War Council—aptly enough, since the stage Jets are about to introduce the same song that Riff was leading to. On film, the police sergeant's patrol of the block is unwarranted by any event in the story more criminal than loitering, but without him there, apparently, he cannot be mocked. On stage, his presence is better justified and more urgent since he is now seriously and officially investigating the rumble. The Jets not only manage to evade the questions, but drive him off in a physical stunt that causes him to lose his cap. Two of the Jets have already been "hauled down" for questioning. One of them retrieves the abandoned cap and together they give the others the uproarious lesson in handling the police and other ineffective members of society.

Once again, the presence of this up-tempo and patently irreverent song after the rumble causes consternation among viewers familiar only with the film. I cannot dispute the appropriate placement of "Cool" in this position. I am among the legion who are in awe of the remarkable contribution this song makes, to the moment and to the film as a whole, and of the permanent showcase thus provided to those lucky enough to be called upon to dance it. ("Cool" is the dance that represents West Side Story in the retrospective film That's Dancing!) From day one "Cool" has been my favorite scene in the film. None of this is to imply that "Gee, Officer Krupke" does not work equally as well for different reasons, nor should the other logical assumption rear its inaccurate head, that "Krupke" works better before the rumble than after. "Krupke" on stage is an unexpected lift from the tragedy just re-enacted in the ballet. Correctly sung and acted, it is less the vaudevillian turn demonstrated in the film than a sardonic, even bitter indictment of the adult society these boys feel they are up against. In this light, the song does not come a moment too soon; lightening the tone, playing the laughs and not the bitterness, was the only way to make it work in the earlier spot, a point in time where some empathy for, even identification with, the gangs is still required. The "Krupke" scene in the film is too early in the scenario for us to witness the cynicism the stage-Jets get to express. The shoot-from-the-hip irreverence makes them come off as savvy and menacing, if flippantly so, and that must not happen too soon. Their fortified autonomy, their "us against the woild" philosophy, is a sentiment the audience can accept only after the grudging attempts of "mixing" and "making nice" have proven futile. While the film Jets are prepared to work around the necessary evils of adult society, an agenda that includes ridicule, the stage Jets have reached a more critical point of learning wherein adult interference is so impotent as to be meaningless. In the play the number is disturbing and funny, in the film it is funny and vapid—the point is made but in the absence of any affronts more serious than the dumping of paint or even the cutting of an ear, the message connects to nothing. The film version of West Side Story would work exactly as well, if not better, with this beloved number omitted, and the same cannot be said of the play. The comic turns serve to make Riff more likable, which is effective, and it demonstrates the talents of at least four more actors, but the story is advanced not an inch.

According to lyricist Stephen Sondheim, the idea of putting "Cool" in this spot was indeed suggested for the original stage production, and was overruled, most likely by the librettist. If the phrase "better late than never" occurred nowhere else in the history of written and spoken English, it certainly belongs here. The sentimental exchange between A-rab and Baby John, much of it new to the film, gives way to the Jets as a whole, including four of the girls, hiding in plain sight on the premises of a garage. The catalyst here is not the sermonizing Doc but an unnamed neighbor of the garage who wants nothing more than some Saturday night peace and quiet. The antsy youthful impatience of the stage "Cool" is now a tragic, bereft and adult reckoning with the futility of the recent event. The message, then, was to take it slow and don't let adults like Doc know they've gotten to you and just enjoy life; now the message is a lesson in saving one's posterior from a night in jail, or many nights. The idea of confronting the law is not so comical any more, and the participants not so cocky. The message is delivered by the stalwart Ice, whose character was literally created to sing this song. While a comparison to the original reveals no appreciable difference in the choreography of this remarkable number, once again the various angles and close-ups, the low ceiling, the dim lighting, the bleak and dingy set, the street clothes, and the general "line-of-tension" atmosphere combine to tell quite a different story than was told before. Advantage: film.

Whichever song is being sung, its end leads to the re-appearance of Anybodys and the latest bulletin from behind enemy lines. On stage, it is Action who hands out the assignments, and on film the now emergent Ice is in charge. In the latter scene, Anybodys cannot be instructed to find the girls since the girls are right there—her exchange with Ice is capped off with a marvelous close-up, a belated acknowledgement of the underused talents of Susan Oakes.

Act Two Scene Three: 11:30 P.M. The Bedroom.

No essential difference exists in the dialogue between the two versions of the bedroom scene, although the camera makes us certain that it was indeed Anybodys who found Tony (knowing where to look) and brought him up to date. The much-praised duet, if that's the word, of Maria and Anita is notably shorter on film, with some of the operatic counterpoint eliminated. On film the close-ups on each girl, the silent plea of Maria to keep the date and the silent acquiescence of Anita, play just short of melodrama, but by now it is hard not to be on their side. Schrank, still no gentleman in either version, is a bit less of a bully in his dealings here and perhaps just a degree more official and competent. In the film he manages to convey a glint of suspicion over Anita's drug store errand, a feat too subtle to be enjoyed by a stage audience across the footlights.

Act Two Scene Four: 11.40 P.M. The Drugstore.

For the taunting of Anita, once again the material in the stage script was transferred to the film script with no noteworthy change in the dialogue, baffling some critics who assess the epithets hurled at the Puerto Rican woman to be far more offensive than other lines and lyrics that were expunged. (OK, it's me who is baffled.) In the film the Taunting is, yet again, enhanced by the expert use of close-ups and angles not afforded to the stage director. The close quarters of the drugstore play to great advantage here, symbolizing the trap Anita has walked into; on stage, the taunting takes place in exactly the same vast space as the dance "Cool." On stage, all of the Jets are participants in the ugly attack; on film, the stolid Ice, who may well have prevented the cruel assault, is absent.

Act Two Scene Five: 11:50 P.M. The Cellar.

Except for the lighting, and a clear demonstration (in the film) that the cellar is on a lower level, this scene and the scene following come to the screen virtually intact.

Act Two Scene Six: Midnight. The Street.

This difficult scene, which plays identically in both versions, has the odd distinction of bringing the play to a complete if tragic end, while leaving movie audiences to wonder whence had evaporated the thorough and soaring expertise of the previous two and a half hours, leaving an ending so baldly unsatisfying as to be ludicrous. The melodramatic ingredients of the fallen hero, the vengeful heroine about to wreak havoc with the weapon one lover used to kill another, the disagreeable patch of a capella singing, the mute, powerless supporting players lined up in hollow silence, all blend to form a scene that is patently more digestible on stage (be in musical theater or, even more so, in opera and operetta) than in the realistic film in which it sits without adaptation. The movie audience has no opportunity to appreciate the dramatic connection between this mournful scene and its joyful opposite in the dream ballet. The music and especially the sorrowful procession behind the body recall for the stage audience an identical movement to the identical music, in a much more hopeful and light-hearted motif. And when the dream turned into a nightmare and Maria was thrown to the floor, she was hurled to the exact spot where Tony now lies in her arms. The futility of the lovers' quest is all the more pronounced with this comparison—a futility that does not exist in the film because no such comparison exists. Without a complete re-write, the tragic ending is just the inevitable last scene, linking back to nothing more memorable than the unremarkable duet hastily sung in the bedroom after the rumble. What is undeniably the signature song of the play is, in the film, one of the least effective components of the story-telling. The persons responsible for the stretch of music under the film's inspired closing credits had some sense of the song's relevance to posterity, bridging it to the film proper with the continuation of the procession theme, and, as the credits end, bringing the entire opus to a close literally on the same note.

Finale.

So what ever did happen to the hats the stage Jets so jauntily wore? And their jackets, for that matter, as well as those of the Sharks? Why does Schrank swipe cigarettes in the play and merely a piece of candy in the film? Why do Velma and Graziella switch boyfriends from one version to the other? This examination of the differences between these two splendid works is strictly academic—no abstract determination of the "better" version was attempted or even considered herein. One would hope that a discriminating audience would find merit in both, even with a preference. The success of one work does not depend on its favorable comparison to its opposite. What has been called the perfect musical was skillfully and respectfully made into a superb motion picture that clearly will be seen and loved by many generations to come. Nor is there any doubt that the schools and community and stock companies will continue the legacy of the stage version into the distant future, where it will be as enthusiastically received as it was at its premiere performance.

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