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La La Land (2016)

La La Lalala Lalala

The thing with reviewing La La Land is to be able to talk about nothing. Because there is nothing to say about such an absurd abuse of musical, with no less less than a vague hommage to Jacques Demy, which hold waters during a De Palma opening which has nothing to do with the rest of the movie, being one Oscar moment in a movie filled with them. It’s either Musicals for Dummies or the Cliff Notes for the same, meaning that it would make any Astaire or Kelly ashamed of their legacy to Hollywood. And do not let one start with Rogers or Charysse. It’s your 6yo attempting at Silk Stockings with only you thinking she has star material. It’s vile, repulsive material, which Hollywood will be too happy to bestow all possible Oscars on, because we are still on denial time, and the clock is not set five to midnight. Yet.

Emma Stone (playing herself to the point of being dangerously diegetic) has no less but four Oscar moments, either stripping her soul bare or belching her heart out on mediocre melodies. She also attempts at a dancing number with Ryan Gosling which is too embarrassing for words. But let’s not even start with Gosling. Emma Stone, see, is very cute. Was she aware that she was starring in a much more succesful remake of Showgirls is a question for the guy in charge of that expensive, ultra-filtrered piece of garbage, without any good supporting cast, by the way, so obsessed it it with its two stars that anyone else is reduced to pixels, including JK Simmons.

So, the problem is not that much Ryan Gosling, specialised as he is in not being there, but much of the productions choices, from colour-coordinated “chorus girls” to various filters. One means, even Baz Lufhann did it better, and this is both setting the bar pretty low and incommensurably higher. What we have here is the most possibly contrived rom-com ever (she loves jazz but she’s doomed to be a star, he plays jazz in a world where everything stopped with Charlie Parker), with half-baked cupcakes all the way.

There is an absurd music montage with actors unable to sing. For some reason it is structured on seasons, like a Buddhist movie, only without gluten. Paris is eternally stuck in the fifties, when everyone liked jazz, now a dead form of music, and please, stop this obscene carnival just now. There is nothing to like in La La Land except if you’re completely illiterate in musicals, nothing to enjoy if you have seen a couple of rom-coms, nothing to say about it except it will get many Oscars because for the time being, we like stupid escapism better than fighting the monster put in the Oval Office. This movie is criminal for saying nothing about the worst situation ever, and la la lalalala.

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