La La Land
(2016)
(SPOILERS) La La Land is very likeable, which is surely why it has been
embraced so rapturously, as if it represents the second coming of Gene Kelly. It
isn’t that, but it’s backward-looking take on old-school musicals, with a twist
of sobriety, has made it seem fresh and distinctive in an increasingly
homogenous (mainstream) landscape. It does make me wonder, though, whether
director Damien Chazelle has a one-track mind. He can make a film about
anything. As long as it involves jazz.
And additionally, when positioned alongside
Whiplash, it’s suggestive of an
unsettlingly uncompromising temperament. Whiplash
justified its teacher’s extreme methods in its final reel; wanton cruelty maketh
the purer artist, we are told, despite having seen all we needed hitherto to
convince us that such behaviour is entirely detrimental to the nurturing of
talent. I conceded at the time that maybe this was down to lack of judgement on
its maker’s part, that “Maybe Chazelle intended to leave his
audience with more of an open debate than he does”, but in light of La La Land, I’d lean heavily to there
being no mistake there. In both movies, the ends justify the means, along as
the ends are success. So Mia (Emma Stone) and Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) are not destined
to live happily ever after, not together at any rate, but in forsaking
potential bliss they gain what they have always dreamed of: fame and artistic
fulfilment, respectively.
Working backwards from
that, within the parameters of the generally uncynical genre of the musical,
Chazelle leaves himself some curiously gaping potholes to traverse. Because
he’s left with a love story in which the lovers aren’t really, not wholly, not convincingly,
that into each other, and so there isn’t really any great disappointment in
their eventual not to be-ness. It also means there isn’t any great flight of
fantasy during their musical outpourings, certainly between the opening number
(of which they aren’t a part, and which I had difficulty making out what Another Day of Sun was even about until
the near the end, which isn’t very good form; either that, or speakers in the
cinema weren’t doing the business) and the quite dazzling, “what-might-have-been”
montage that concludes the movie.
Maybe that’s intentional,
though, reflecting Mia and Sebastian’s lack of sincerity? That’s a charitable
take, certainly, and I couldn’t help but notice how the choreography of the
leads, Gosling in particular, is on the stiff side. The Coen brothers delivered
a musical number in Hail, Caesar!
that was no more than a side dish, but displayed, deftness, sleight of hand and
a vibrant wit lacking even in the best of what’s on offer here. Not that La La Land isn’t funny, but I didn’t
find it as spirited or as invested in the genre as, say Woody’s Everybody Says I Love You. The manner in
which, for the main body of the piece, the songs shuffle in and out or linger
on the side-lines, without much fanfare, reluctant to intrude too overtly on
the drama of the relationship, or let things really take off, suggests
something else; a quality of “musical realism” (is that a phrase?), perhaps,
closer to the kind of approach we see in diegetic musicals like The Commitments than a full-blown
fantasy?
It also means that, because
they’re restrained, those numbers feel more rehearsed, less free and expansive
than in your typical musical (admittedly, I’m no aficionado of the genre, so am
happy to stand corrected). The segues too feel a little on the studied side at
times, the lights lowering around the subject(s) at the appropriate moment on
each occasion. But the songs themselves are extremely catchy, and for all that
I’ve noted the choreography being limited, Chazelle is light years ahead of the
go-to-guy for musical adaptations, Rob Marshall, in staging, cinematography and
editing. Indeed, if La La Land wins
the Best Picture Oscar, it will at least do something to displace the stink of
the last musical to win, Marshall’s Chicago.
Gosling and Stone have previous movie form
of course, flourishing in Crazy, Stupid,
Love, less so in Gangster Squad
(but then, no one was done any favours there). A number of reviews have noted
their singing isn’t up to scratch, but as someone who enjoyed the very variable
performances in the aforementioned Everyone
Says, I can’t say their timbres really put me off. Mind you, unless someone
is actually tone deaf, I’d probably come away nodding, “Yeah, they were fine.”
The main thing here is the chemistry, and their natural charisma as
performers.
If there’s a problem, aside from a fizzled
romance that is a fait accompli, it’s one of which Stone is the unfortunate bearer.
Chazelle may be repeating himself with Sebastian’s all-excluding jazz
obsession, but at least it’s a strong through line. He’s a sufficiently proficient
pianist, but his dream isn’t of great fame, it’s of a venue where the form can
be allowed free expression. And through necessary compromise (to find the funds
to achieve that goal) he achieves it. It’s a very specific, heartfelt intent,
the expression of an artistic soul.
In contrast, Stone’s character is rather empty-headed.
There’s almost a sense that Chazelle, having fixed on what he really wanted for
his male character, settled on the most rote, “That’ll do” target for her. So,
she’s an aspiring actress in Hollywood, and she wants to be a writer, so she
just is a writer; presto, she
flourishes a one-woman play in which she acts. And is spotted. And success is
asssured. There’s no path or mountain to climb, and her trajectory is entirely
generic. That Mia doesn’t completely flounder is entirely down to Stone’s charm
and expressive frog eyes. There’s one song (Audition/The Fools Who Dream) arising from Mia
being asked to tell a story at an audition, and all she can come up with is her
aunt getting wet in Paris and wanting to do it again, the theme of following
one’s dream, and I was left thinking, “That,
the most moribund of all Hollywood themes, got you the gig?”
All that said, I was frequently most
impressed and taken by Chazelle’s confident telling of scenes distinct from the
musical life blood; Mia taunting Sebastian as he sacrifices his dignity to an
‘80s cover band is much more surefooted than the subsequent song as they walk
to their cars. And then there’s the standout passage in which he comes home
from touring and admits he has done what he has done because he thinks that’s
what she wants him to do (joining John Legend’s very slightly cheesy, populist
band); it’s one of the high points of the picture.
And, of course, Epilogue is near-sublime. If the rest of the movie had the breath-taking
flourish of that final number, La La Land
would be an instant classic. While, on the one hand, I genuinely appreciated
that the picture’s ending chose not to opt for the conventional route, that it
was more resonant that way, it also led to the nagging feeling that this was a
very calculated conclusion, and that there’s something cumulatively ruthless
about Chazelle’s worldview, something showing through the colourful trappings
and sympathetic protagonists. But I look forward to his next effort, a science
fiction yarn in which Louis Armstrong becomes the first jazz musician to set
foot on the Moon.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.
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