‘La La Land’ Review: An Homage to the Fools Who Dream

La La Land Directed by Damien Chazelle | Drama, Romance | PG-13 | 2h 8m

By John Liu

Dec 7, 2018

The opening shot of La La Land is one for the ages: a larger-than-life musical number that lays the foundation for the rest of the film. From the first five minutes alone, it becomes clear that we are in the hands of a filmmaker who has considerable passion and skill for his craft. It also becomes clear that this is perhaps a more difficult—and more rewarding—film experience than some people are expecting, or will be interested in seeing. The way the film disintegrates from the technicolor to the quotidian, from a romance about movies to a movie about romance—it’s a bold move, executed to near perfection.

Damien Chazelle’s third directorial venture follows Mia (Emma Stone), who dreams of supporting herself as a full-fledged actor in Hollywood, and Sebastian (Ryan Gosling), who wants to share his love for traditional jazz with a city passing him by. The two hopeless romantics meet and meet again by chance, eventually bonding over their mutual heartache and love for the arts. As they make strides in their careers, however, their dreams threaten to tear them apart.

Mia’s first audition shows her chops for acting, justifying her hopes and dreams with her on-screen talent. Similarly, Sebastian proves his talent on the piano early in the film. For both our protagonists, we understand that their desires are not only pipe dreams. But to appreciate the story for what it is, we must understand the playfulness of Mia and Sebastian’s early romance and revel in that joy with them, and then accept along the way that this is not a character study and that’s okay.

To understand the sacrifices they make for each other and the complexity of the decisions that threaten to tear them apart, we must afford the film some suspension of disbelief. Though people in real life generally don’t break into choreographed musical numbers, Mia and Sebastian’s hopes, dreams, and fears are presented in ballads and duets—and we have to accept that. After all, as with any musical, there needs to be some level of whimsicality and surrealism.

Yet, for a musical, La La Land is not afraid to leave room for quiet moments, where character dynamics unfold through understated glances across the room and seemingly mundane strings of dialogue that hit with the force of a speeding train. The conversations are always grounded in reality; even the witty banter and heavy conversations feel as real as they can afford to be. As such, the film walks the uneasy bridge between romance and reality with grace, masterfully balancing the grandeur of a soaring musical with the emotional quietude of a character-driven drama.

Where Chazelle never seems to hold back or perform a balancing act is with the film’s visuals: every frame is a pulsating work of art, and the film is all the better because of that. While the same “magic hour” shots would feel highly stylized to a fault for a different film, La La Land’s kaleidoscopic color palette provides the film with the dreamlike, timeless aesthetic that Chazelle intended. Linus Sandgren’s cinematography allows the film’s homages to classic musicals like Singin' in the Rain and The Umbrellas of Cherbourg to be greater than empty idolism. Rather than excluding viewers for not being in the know, the film’s striking visuals bring influences together in the service of a brand new style to appreciate.

The most noticeable area where the film is a bit lacking is in some of its jazz-inspired tracks—jazz-inspired in the sense that they can sound less like the jazz that Sebastian adores and more like the background music he deplores. In the scene where he describes jazz as “conflict” and “compromise” and “very, very exciting,” he talks over the performance in the same way that he scorns—and the irony there does not feel intentional.

However, the rest of Justin Hurwitz’s breathtaking score is not used simply as punctuation for the story; it’s a separate character altogether, narrating the film as its ideas mature and as its central relationship blossoms. Hurwitz artfully weaves “Mia & Sebastian’s Theme” into major plot points, having it take on variations depending on tonal highs and lows. As with all the other musical motifs, it lingers with us long after the closing credits.

The story also dips in pacing during part of its second act, following the introduction of John Legend’s character. But even the viewers the film loses will be roped back in with the final act, marked by the film's climactic expression of catharsis and an effectively heart-stopping finale. With a seamless blend of the entire score, the final sequence is a breathtaking ode to nostalgia—for what could have been, not necessarily in a tragic sense, but in a celebration of lives lived together in past and in present.

Most of the hate for La La Land comes from it supposedly feeling self-indulgent, like Hollywood telling a story about itself. But just how fair is this criticism? For both positive and negative reasons, critics have called the film a love letter to Los Angeles, but I would argue otherwise. At every twist and turn it pokes fun at the pretenses of L.A. In fact, there’s an omitted scene in its screenplay that boldly mocks “every cliché” of Hollywood parties, in which “a fat old producer dances with a twenty-something.”

Instead, in ways that make us forget we are watching a film, Chazelle has crafted a beautiful homage—a letter of consolation—to anyone with a dream. It’s not the first to explore this theme, nor will it be the last. But this film will go down in history as one of the most ambitious and most well-executed celebrations of dreamers. La La Land is a heartfelt letter to the fools who dream, from those who have dreamt and have felt that ache but wouldn’t have it any other way.