This review was first published by The Student Pocket Guide
Films never exist in a vacuum. They develop, respond and
mature according to those which came before, and the particular moment in which
they are made. Except for perhaps the very early days of cinema, true
originality in films (from Hollywood or elsewhere) is a myth.
Several films from the last 15 years or so have been praised
for their novelty (largely thanks to advances in technology). Take Avatar, for example, which was hailed as
the beginnings of a take-over for 3D film; in reality, 3D cinema was widespread
in the 1950s. The Artist gathered
much admiration as a silent, black-and-white film in today’s era of colourful
and loud blockbusters, and masterpieces such as The Lord of the Rings pioneered new techniques which redefined how
such films could be made. Although these films were undoubtedly innovative, none
emerged independently of similar films which had gone before.
In the same way, La La
Land could, at first glance, appear to be completely new. But it is far
from the only film in recent years to have invoked the golden age of the
Hollywood musical. The successes of films like Mamma Mia, Sunshine on Leith and
Les Misérables have all appealed to
people’s experiences of the euphoric nature of the film musical. In La La Land, the Hollywood musical is
both acknowledged and updated, creating a film which weaves emotion with
musical hooks and toe-tapping delight.
Written and directed by Damien Chazelle, who directed the
intense drumming film Whiplash, La La Land tells the love story of jazz
pianist Seb (Ryan Gosling) and Mia (Emma Stone), an aspiring actress in Los
Angeles who can’t seem to ever secure a call-back after an audition. To make
ends meet, Mia works in a coffee shop in the Warner Brothers lot, directly
opposite the “Paris” window out of which Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart
famously looked in Casablanca.
Indeed, references to Casablanca are prolific
in the film, and Mia and Seb are given their own love theme on the piano, akin
to “As Time Goes By”.
Theirs is a relationship which is both believable and
endearing. Emma Stone is an emotional powerhouse: funny, sassy, vulnerable,
tenacious and disarming in equal measure. Her many audition scenes are a
particular stand-out, and as an audience, we really feel for her when, as her
mesmeric eyes fill with tears, she is interrupted mid-audition by a PA with a
call for the casting director (“Shall I tell her you’ll call back in two
minutes?”, “No, it’ll be less than that”).
Stone’s performance is pitched perfectly against Ryan
Gosling’s slightly arrogant, but still very likeable, Seb. Gosling is perhaps
reminiscent of the likes of Gene Kelly – not in terms of technical ability
(although his piano playing and dancing, developed through many months of
training before filming began, is very convincing) – but as a star with that glint in his eye and that magnetic screen presence.
Both Mia and Seb have, as so many do in Hollywood, a dream
to make the bigtime in their respective professions. Seb’s burning passion is
jazz and he hopes to open a jazz club to honour what is – in his opinion – the
greatest musical genre to have ever existed. Mia is equally set on becoming
like the actresses who walk into her coffee shop, earn adoring stares from the
staff and are achingly nice in refusing a free coffee before being driven off
to set on a golf buggy.
The pair initially cross paths in a minor case of road rage
in a LA traffic jam – a continuous-take sequence which opens the film and which
culminates in people literally dancing on the roofs of their cars (recalling
the big dance numbers of 1950s musicals). They meet again when Mia sees Seb
being fired by a restaurant manager (J. K. Simmons – recognisable as the intimidating
teacher from Whiplash) for going
off-piste with his musical choices at the piano.
Their relationship develops, persistently underscored by the
classics of both film and jazz. Their first date is a trip to see Rebel Without a Cause and a subsequent
trip to a jazz club results in a rather patronising Seb trying to convince her
of the need for jazz to be preserved for future generations. Without giving too
much away, a crack appears in proceedings, fracturing the undiluted optimism
reflected in the film’s aesthetics, and questioning the price to be paid for
pursuing one’s dreams.
The design of the film is certainly a joy, mixing blocks of
vibrant colour with inventive cinematography, and is reminiscent of the
soundstage sets of classics such as Singing
in the Rain and Gentlemen Prefer
Blondes. Snow appears for a brief moment at an LA pool party, and the
Griffith Observatory, previously the site of James Dean’s troubles and now a
courtship venue for our lovers, plays host to a fantastical, intergalactic
dance number. The film’s final sequences go ever further in mirroring the
dream-like, highly-stylised worlds of old-school musicals. But even amongst the
whirl of musical numbers and bold, extravagant imagery, there is emotional
intimacy and turbulence, leading to an ending which may not appeal to everyone
but one which is, ultimately, hugely satisfying.
The music (composed by Justin Hurwitz) ticks all the boxes,
driving the plot and also revealing characters’ feelings in a way which
equivalent dialogue can sometimes struggle to do. From beginning to end, La La Land is a delight. The
performances, design, music and narrative coalesce into a heart-warming and
exultant celebration, continuing the musical tradition which has never really
left our cinema screens. Perhaps, in 2017, it’s a film we all need.
Clapperboard Rating: * * * * *
