A film of glittering pizzazz, supreme cinematography and catchy pop tunes, The Greatest Showman is a spectacle worth indulging in.
Those critics who have lambasted The Greatest Showman as nothing more than a sound and light show for idiots have patently lost the ability to let joy into their lives and should probably seek medical help before self-harm becomes habitual.
A film of gleaming beauty, infectious music, and a heart of gold, it may eschew the bleaker realities of P.T. Barnum’s profiteering in favour of undiluted optimism but I, like many others solely interested in two hours of escapism, wouldn’t have bought the ticket if it had.
Hollywood tries and fails too often at superficial rubbish supposedly primed for the masses but Michael Gracey’s effort is anything but. It boasts wonderfully uplifting pop songs courtesy of the talented songwriting duo Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, cinematography that continually astonishes (in part thanks to the director’s experience as a visual effects maestro), and spirited performances from its principle cast (Hugh Jackman charms, Zac Efron twinkles, and Michelle Williams dazzles with a sort of classic Studio Era radiance).
The Greatest Showman rekindles the curiosity, wonder and thrill of early showmanship and performance for today’s audiences overdosed on vacuous faux celebrity entertainment. Here we’re privileged to a celebration of visual and sonic exuberance that enchantingly comes together with firecracker delight.