L.A., L.A.

MOVIE REVIEW
La La Land
Directed by Damien Chazelle
By Noel Vera

(Warning: plot and narrative twists discussed in detail!)

DAMIEN CHAZELLE’s La La Land takes a lot of chances evoking old musicals the way he does — on one hand bringing up references to the classics helps adds a nostalgic glow to your picture; on the other audiences might be too distracted by love of those films to look kindly on this one (see Michel Hazanavicius’ The Artist and its use [some would say theft] of Bernard Hermann’s score in Vertigo).

Chazelle does wear his movie love openly on his sleeve and to an extent his passion is hard to resist: this latest effort takes the storyline of Martin Scorsese’s New York, New York (two artists Mia [Emma Stone] and Sebastian [Ryan Gosling] trying to succeed in a major American city), gives it the bright colors and (towards the latter half) bittersweet tone of Umbrellas of Cherbourg, caps the picture with a lengthy stylized dance number reprising the story à la An American in Paris.

Along the way Sebastian treats Mia to a screening of Nicholas Ray’s Rebel Without a Cause, later bringing her to the Griffith Observatory where portions of Ray’s film was shot — smart move on Chazelle’s part. Too much Ray would have made the viewer forget all about the drama actually unfolding; Chazelle keeps Rebel at arm’s length, shooting Mia and Sebastian watching the film on the big screen. The screening is rudely interrupted by the print burning up (not a happy moment for me: seen too many instances of this happening and felt some kind of post-traumatic panic) so Sebastian and Mia drive to the actual observatory, supplanting classic imagery with the real thing. Which works in romantic terms of course; modern cinematography and stereo sound shooting in a well-lit real location will look and sound more impressive than a 1955 film anytime, though I can’t help but wonder at the couple’s blithe unconcern (being old-film lovers in Los Angeles wouldn’t they be at least slightly aware that prints are an increasingly precious resource?).

The movie is basically Chazelle carefully negotiating such pitfalls; that he comes out more or less whole on the other side is actually quite an accomplishment, can’t take that away from him. Still difficult if not impossible to compare his work to what preceded it — partly the comparisons can’t be helped (he’s trying to plead for the glories of traditional arts as opposed to newer more fashionable forms), partly it’s his fault (he does invite comparisons, though carefully).

As the lovers: Gosling is a pretty camera subject with light feet and a barely tolerable voice; Stone’s dancing is equally deft (or adequate) with marginally better voice but those vast liquid eyes and wide smile — far as I’m concerned she carries the production, and it’s a bit of a mystery that she has to struggle so to get noticed (maybe the casting director needs to actually look at her video footage). The two have good chemistry but you can’t help think of a pair of puppies at play, growling puppy-dog growls, crying at puppy-dog problems. Don Lockwood struggled with the transition from silent to sound; Tony Hunter’s career is slipping and he’s hungry for a comeback. The best Chazelle can produce by way of romantic difficulties is scheduling conflicts between the two youngsters; at least Lockwood had the formidable Lina Lamont to grapple with.

Of course we can argue that the clash is internal and Mia and Sebastian are actually their own worse enemies, though one can’t help but remember Jimmy Doyle’s volatile temper in New York, New York — a film that seems far more tough-minded about relationships than Chazelle’s would or could ever hope to be.

Would help if Los Angeles and its inhabitants didn’t look so scrubbed. When Mia goes to a Hollywood party she wears her best good-girl frock, arms bare but not so much that you’ll think she’s “that kind of a girl”; plenty of alcohol flowing but no cocaine — not even tobacco. For a real look at the city’s decadent side I suspect we’re better off watching Nicholas Winding Refn’s The Neon Demon — yes that film’s heroine kept skidding into fantasy and back but the emotions and depiction of drug use are far more persuasive. To the director’s credit he does take a judiciously chosen page or two from his betters: the camera swirls around the dancers respecting the not-too-difficult choreography and at his cleverest Chazelle sets one number on a Los Angeles interstate ramp (the movie’s literally high point) or against a softly bruised Los Angeles sunset. Gosling and Stone aren’t exactly Fred or Ginger much less Fred or Cyd and the number isn’t exactly “Dancing in the Dark” but short of resurrecting all the parties concerned (including Vincente Minnelli, though Stanley Donen is as of this writing still available) we’re probably not going to get anything as good anytime soon.

One of the better American musicals of the year, though to be fair that’s not saying much (the two other notable musicals in 2016 include Trolls which I haven’t bothered watching and Moana which I loathed). Best since Dr. Horrible’s Sing-along Blog? Maybe.

MTRCB Rating: PG