‘Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour’ movie review: See what we made her do | ET REALITY


I guess we could talk about everything Taylor Swift has done for the economy, friendship bracelets, seismology, and Travis Kelce. But her greatest non-musical achievement is the innocuous Art that has made the mouth open. On a 50-foot screen, the various openings of his mouth make for a spectacle. There is the “Who? Me?”, the “yes, I said it”, the “oh”, the “ooooo”, the “OMG” and the “Sally Field wins another Oscar”. Theirs is the story of “oh.”

That joy is a reason to be happy with the film that has been made from her live show: “Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour”, which was filmed at the SoFi stadium in Los Angeles, the last stop of the first stage of the tour. “Happy” because it registers how cheerful Agent Swift can be on stage and the resistance summoned to drive that agency for most of the three hours. The film lasts approximately 165 minutes, and she is as exuberant when descending on stage for her farewell as she is in the first few minutes magically materializing on him. The first words she says to the 70,000 people booing her are, “Hello!”, as if SoFi were a shower in which we’d caught her singing.

In June, when Swift landed at MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey, the pushing and shouting (by five high school students) toward my immediate rear stopped about two hours in. I turned to check her ecstatic state and found a pile of fatigue—the human version of that wrinkled face emoji. Her joy had lasted longer than theirs, her enthusiasm had excited them. If nothing else, this film is a monument to that: Swift’s illusion of tranquility. She does not work with as much physical strength or as much ease or hydraulics as her dancers. She’s not a Jackson. And she doesn’t sing as enormously or as exquisitely as Streisand, Carey, Dion or Knowles-Carter. Her show, produced as discrete segments dedicated to nine of Swift’s 10 albums, is also not the cultural gym that Madonna requires. Swift plays to her enhanced strengths: sweet tone, dazzling stature, delightful songwriting, winks, and the very idea of ​​play. Not far away, right around “Cruel Summer,” she announces that we have found “the first bridge of the night.” There’s more to come, because not since Lionel Richie has any major pop star enjoyed the pleasure of the power of her bridge skill so much.

It wasn’t until this movie that Swift’s 10-minute breakup ballad, “All Too Well,” which she performs alone on stage in a sparkly robe and acoustic guitar, struck me as an achievement of genuine theater. Absorbed in a movie theater, I felt the song’s heartbreaking resentment in a new way. Some of that comes from watching Swift’s face register the pain, snap the recrimination. The rest comes from the song stretching into anthem territory. Live, it’s like watching someone woodworking “American Pie” until it looks like “Purple Rain.”

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