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Y
WOLFF
film, the quieter, more thoughtful of the
pair, while Cherise, a wannabe musician
whose mouth runs faster than a traditional
album played at 45 rpm, is the equivalent of
Jack Black’s Barry. But there are also key
details that have been updated. Champion-
ship Vinyl, located in London in the novel
and Chicago in the movie, is now in the
Crown Heights section of Brooklyn. Unlike
Barry, Cherise is a black woman. Unlike
Dick, Simon is gay. And this Rob is a sexu-
ally fluid woman of color. (One of her top-
five exes is a woman.)
The fact that this Rob could be as fixated
on vinyl and possess as much deep musical
knowledge as a white dude shouldn’t be a
radical notion, but 25 years after Hornby’s
novel was first published, it’s still somewhat
revolutionary for pop culture to acknowl-
edge this. Kravitz’s Rob also possesses many
of the same relationship issues as the pro-
tagonist in High Fidelity 1.0. She fears com-
mitment, she’s fixated on the past, and she
can be highly self-involved. The flings she
has—including one with a hot musician, a
meta choice considering that Kravitz’s
mom, Lisa Bonet, was the hot musician
Cusack had a fling with in the movie—also
mirror encounters from the book and film.
But the Hulu series does find new ways to
add tension and expand the scope of the
narrative, all while projecting a slightly
grungy Brooklyn that’s bathed in enough
soft light to make it seem almost magical.
This time, we get a deeper look into thelives
of other characters. There’s a whole episode
that removes Rob from the driver’s seatand
puts Simon in it instead, so he can talk about
his top-five breakups, all of which are cen-
tered on the multiple splits he endured with
his first serious boyfriend after coming out.
High Fidelity is at its best whenit
engages directly with the significance of the
updates that have been made to the story. In
another of the stronger installments, Rob
and one potential boyfriend, Clyde (Jake
Lacy), go to view a record collection being
sold by an Upper East Side artist as an act
of revenge against her husband. (She’s
played by Parker Posey, which is perfect.)
When Rob and Clyde eventually meet that
husband, he directs all of his conversation
about music toward Clyde, assuming that
Rob couldn’t possibly keep up or even be
interested. It’s a scene that could never have
been in the film version, for obvious rea-
sons, and it pushes High Fidelity’s ongoing
exploration of what it looks and feels like to
love music into more interesting, challeng-
ing territory. I wish the series had done
more of that.
Still, even when the show traffics in sce-
narios that echo previous High Fidelitys—
which, for the record, may not be as familiar
to younger audiences or Championship
Vinyl newbies—it’s still enjoyabletohang
out in its universe. Kravitz is a bigreason
why. Like Cusack, she speaks directlytothe
camera, but she’s a much morelow-key
presence. Where Cusack vibratedwiththe
desire to make sure other peopleknew and
agreed with all of his opinions,Kravitzis
eager to explain why she likes whatshelikes
but is less judgmental of others’ tastes.She
is so effortlessly cool that it seemslike she
shouldn’t have any self-doubt,butthat
makes her self-doubt that much morepow-
erful. Everyone feels like a misfittoyora
broken being from time to time, andKravitz
is equipped to telegraph that kindof vulner-
ability and sadness—and she’s just as
equipped to make Rob look likeherheart
light has been turned on full blastassoonas
she sees a rare copy of David Bowie’sThe
Man Who Sold the World.
The soundtrack canvas also broadens in
the series. Some of the tracks from the
movie—“Dry the Rain,” by the Beta Band; “I
Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be For-
ever),” by Stevie Wonder—reappear, but the
constant needle drops represent a much
broader range of artists and genres. There’s
some Bowie, of course, but there’s also Out-
Kast, Nina Simone, El Freaky Colectivo, and
Frank Ocean. A lot of the creative choices
emphasize that, while the main character in
High Fidelity may still be self-centered, she
lives in a world that looks and sounds much
more diverse than the one this story cap-
tured two decades ago. At a party at one ex-
girlfriend’s place, Rob meets a woman who,
upon learning that she has a record store,
says, “It’s so badass for you to not only
occupy, but freaking own, such a historically
masculine space.” She is right. It really is. ■
Negga as Hamlet
at St. Ann’s Warehouse.
whenyouproduceHamlet,youdon’t cast yourleadplayer
tofittheshowsomuchasyoufit theshowaroundyouractor.
It ’s unfairtoplacesomuchononeperformer’sshoulders—particularly
whentheplayitselfhassuchwildflaws(rememberthepart withpirates?
Nooneelsedoeseither)andsuchimmenseculturalweight.Butthat’s
thewayit’s got“tobe,” thefardelyouhavetobear:
SynchronybetweenHamletandHamletis crucial,
sincethemindofoneis themindoftheother.
Thatharmony iswhat’smissinginthetouring
productionnowat St.Ann’s Warehouse,a glamorous
(andalreadysold-out)hitfromDublin’s GateThe-
atre.TheactorRuthNegga’slogicanddirectorYaël
THEATER / HELEN SHAW
Alas
Ruth Negga makes a great Hamlet,
but the show is at war with itself.
HAMLET
ST. ANN’S
WAREHOUSE.
THROUGH
MARCH 8.
