Summertime is a wondrous love letter to Los Angeles through poetry

Big cities draw talent from far and wide, they birth it, too. From the cries of youth to the understanding of adulthood. There is a vibrancy that’s captured in the streets and informs the art that shapes culture. Summertime, a spoken word poetry musical directed by Carlos López Estrada, embodies this reality through the lens of Los Angeles and the voices of the 27 poets that wrote and star in the movie that unfolds.

We start in the Pacific Ocean as “La Overture” by Mila Cuda introduces us to the brilliance and grit of the city. It’s not all blinding lights and the promise of dreams fulfilled. There’s a hardness to life in Los Angeles, a fact that doesn’t outshine its beauty but that is a part of it from the stench to the clash of cultures and lives blending into the city’s totality. The unfurling wonder of it all.

It’s a poem that sets the audience up for a story about the give and take of life, and the struggle to navigate it in the busyness and change of an ever-growing metropolis. From “La Overture” we are whisked around the city in fits and starts, bumping against tourism, gentrification, the hustle and bustle of dream making, and the everyday grind of existence.

Poem after poem sings the song of Los Angeles with the bumping backbeat of hip-hop and rap via a plot about the rise of Anewbyss and Rah, a duo we meet on a street corner as they sell their mixtape.

Summertime is a blend of poetry and music that brings LA to life

There’s a beautiful balance of age in Summertime that coalesces through three binding themes. Love of Los Angeles, the self, and home. Mila Cuda returns with “Hey, I’m Gay” to ream out a bigot on a bus, unflinchingly calling out his prejudice and refusing to allow him to mold his words into the truth of herself and the two women he chose to shame.

“To Korea, with Love” by Madyson Park and “Las Canciones De Nuestras Vidas” by Xochitl Morales exult community. The warmth of shared culture, the remembrance of history, and the glow of what brings a people together.

“Home Is…” by Amaya Blankenship and Bene’t Benton captures a similar spirit but with the bittersweetness of an impending departure. Both young poets will be leaving for college soon. Their idea of home is destined to shift and change as they grow away from the soft, safe embrace of family and friends cherished.

Home is more than a place in Summertime. It’s both people and surroundings as highlighted by the swirl of footage throughout the film. A stand-out piece is the extended look at the graffiti art beautifying the city with a diversity of art styles and subject matter. It’s a tale of its own, an interlude. Same as the dance of red dresses that cut into “Red Lipstick” by Paolina Acuña-González as a woman and a troupe of dancers confront a catcaller.

These moments add texture to the movie. Providing a backdrop or a grounded understanding of the people of Los Angeles, the function of their lives and the battles they face day in and day out. From the traffic to the hopelessness bred from failed connections or painful dismissals. No clearer is this made than in Tyris Winter’s “Home Pt. 2.”

In the movie, Amaya and Bene’t are Tyris’ friends. They’re with him during his “Ode to Yelp” as he rips an overpriced restaurant to shreds. He goes from beloved food spot to beloved food spot extolling the changes that are stripping the city of its character.

As he moves through Los Angeles, we’re treated to the use of technology through his phone, the medium through which Tyris exerts control. His narrative is a slow reveal, one that’s a gut punch. An acknowledgment that sometimes home is stripped from you, and you can’t go back. “Home Is…” is a duet, but “Home Pt. 2” is a solo response. A different perspective from a gay teen who’s been disowned, one that reminds the audience that not all homes are safety personified even as their loss is grieved and loved ones are missed desperately.

The scales Summertime balances are immense. And, yet, the movie does so beautifully in its odd way. Embracing the weirdness of thought and existence, how it changes from person to person and situation to situation without a moment’s respite.

There is triumph in “Shallow” by Marquesha Babers who claims her healing, denying the man who rejected her callously and with a heartbreaking amount of gall to dare devastate her soul any more access to her sense of self-worth and self-love.

Finally, there is a surge of inspiration, a call to claim time and do with it what you will in “Clouds” by Raul Herrera, a twentysomething with multiple jobs who is still striving to achieve his own dreams. There’s a wish in his words, a desire to see others fly and reach for their goals, to let nothing hold them back. It’s a gently explosive ending, one fitting for a story partially about dreamers, their hopes, their fears, and their want for more.

Summertime is playing now in theaters in LA and New York. The film will expand to more theaters on Friday, July 16.