Photo Credit: Warner Bros. Pictures
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Broadway musicals do not always translate well to the movie screen. Screen versions of musicals directed by Clint Eastwood stand even less of a chance of translating well to the screen. Some work, some don’t: Moulin Rouge was amazing; the Footloose reboot pretty awful; I thought (and still think) Rob Marshall’s Chicago was hopelessly overrated. The best musicals, frankly, come from animation studios or Bollywood. Not the house that Dirty Harry built.
His vision of Jersey Boys sings and dances – but only just so. Eastwood is more concerned with the human drama behind the songs . . . which (and this is no fault of his) is remarkably superficial, even for a song-n-dance extravaganza staged for the express purpose of utilizing 60s juke box hits. There just isn’t much ‘there’ there.
It’s the standard Behind the Music expose, showing whose ego or love story got in the way of the band’s success, and who really deserves the blame for extinguishing the success that could have been. Eastwood doesn’t seem very interested in telling the real tale – which is why creative types let noncreative impulses destroy them. It’s also much too long at 134 minutes – the same problem Eastwood had with his ill-fated J. Edgar.
Watchable, but instantly forgettable.
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