One of the final movies of 2016 comes as a push against everything that happened before its release. Damien Chazelle’s La La Land believes in dreamers, in romanticism, and love. It’s a reaction against the cynicism of contemporary blockbusters; a callback to a bygone era of Hollywood. It aligns itself with movies that defined moments of film history, and hopes to be remembered as such. In part, I’d argue it succeeds at capturing an image of our generation, while also showing off the negative consequences of having such grand ambitions.
The story is classic Hollywood; two young artists in L.A. struggle to attain their dreams without selling out, and find love along the way. La La Land relies on the star power of its two leads; Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. The two are at their best, playing Jazz piano as Sebastian and acting as Mia, respectively. Gosling abandoned his usual charm for a more selfish, and realistic character, much like Miles Teller did in Chazelle’s previous film Whiplash. Stone succeeds at making Mia feel alive beyond the confines of the script. Their passion is what drives the movie forward to its brilliant, extraordinary climax.
But Gosling and Stone trip up along the way, most notably during the musical numbers. The music itself is superb; it has been stuck in my head since I saw it. But, although both actors are fine singers and dancers, they lack the brave energy to make any number memorable. The songs grow more quiet and intimate as the movie goes on, and dwindle until there are barely any in the last third of the film. Then, it becomes a much more generic romance―although still brilliantly painted like the rest of the film in bright reds, greens, and blues. The camera makes these colours pop, and moves with such natural grace that it feels alive. At other times, the camera has unnecessary flourishes of movement that it seems like it’s the one dancing, rather than the actors.
La La Land’s preoccupation with its influences is both a delight and a nuisance. Director Damien Chazelle has made what seems to be a love-letter to some of his favourite films; the narrative is modelled after Singin’ in the Rain, and Rebel Without a Cause is used as a motif. But whether or not La La Land wants to return to the past, or only to reference films from it, is a mystery. There’s a small subplot that questions the modernization of jazz, but it ends up being less of a thematic interest and more of a plot point. As much as Gosling’s Sebastian wants to keep jazz pure, Chazelle seems to want to keep movies the same. But there are enough modern flourishes to warrant questioning that sentiment. I don’t think La La Land is too interested in deciding how it feels.
Built between the past and the present, it succeeds because it knows how to focus on its strengths; the romance. The climax of the film is not only relatable, but is the most harrowing and exhausting moments of emotional catharsis I’ve seen all year.
But will it last? It captures something about the movie culture of the present. Yet at the same time, calling one director or film the “voice of a generation” seems to be a step away from what movies might become. La La Land succumbs to trying to be a single voice; it tells a classic story we’ve heard before. In staying firmly rooted in Hollywood tradition, it takes no chances and suggests no alternatives. Rather than a single voice, shouldn’t we have a chorus? Otherwise we’d miss out on The Handmaiden, Edge of Seventeen and Moonlight: all movies from 2016 that deserve to be heard, and seen. For all the romance of old Hollywood, maybe it’s time to move on.
Let’s love La La Land for it’s brilliance, in the present.
