La La Land Review (2016)

Damien Chazelle’s musical “La La Land” is a delightful, energetic motion picture experience. For those who thought Chazelle’s last film “Whiplash” was too intense will be soothed and seduced by this film’s easygoing, vivacious charm. From the very first frame—a retro version of the Summit Entertainment logo,  “La La Land” descends into a magical, heavily nostalgic romp. A love letter to old school Hollywood musicals and studio films in general. A love letter to the art of pure jazz, which is not relaxing background fair but a music genre rife with conflict and spontaneous ingenuity.

Los Angeles is transformed into a glamorous, sparkling dreamscape where there are still independent movie theaters that play nothing but old films and cozy coffee shops with live Jazz performances. The cinematography by Linus Sandegren is fluid and dynamic—the way the camera constantly swoops, glides through and spins around the film’s environment is dizzying and electrifying. The film’s color palette glossy and vibrant—the nighttime scenes have a beautiful, slightly mysterious blue tint to them, while the streetlights emit a warmly romantic glow. Chazelle has a knack for making films that leave you feeling buzzed.

And then there’s the magnificent onscreen duo of Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. Gosling plays Sebastian an arrogant Jazz pianist who wants to open his own Jazz club, while Stone is the wide-eyed aspiring actress Mia containing the usual Emma Stone spunkiness that provides the perfect foil for Gosling’s bumbling, self absorbed persona. The two struggling artists get entangled in an old school romantic comedy, they can’t stand each other at first but before long that tension gives way to affectionate ribbing, before their collective struggle in pursuing their dreams solidifies their romantic relationship (and also comes to threaten it).

Gosling and Stone have such effortless chemistry, their interactions containing an infectious screwball rhythm. Watching them walk and talk down an artificial street on a studio back lot (a self conscious ode to the mingling of Alvy Singer and Annie Hall in “Annie Hall” or Jesse and Celine in the “Before” trilogy, among other famous romantic film duos), share a warm embrace via piano duet fills you with utter joy.

Though perhaps the most surprising and emotionally resonating thing about “La La Land” is the focus on the agony of pursuing a full time gig in an artistic field. Constant rejection and rotten luck (going all the way to a film audition only to be rejected within thirty seconds), the gut-wrenching feeling of going nowhere, those moments of private anxiety when you ask yourself: am I any good at this? Why do I even bother? And then the moment afterwards when you lift yourself out of that foul mood and continue on, fighting to do the thing you love. It’s an exciting, unstable, terrifying life of maddening persistence that (a life I currently find myself in) that Chazelle is clearly sympathetic towards.

That being said, Chazelle acknowledges the stubbornness and ego that can hold young aspiring artists back—being so committed to your dream, the exact vision of said dream that you’re resistant to change or adaption, and are therefore continually stuck in a rut. This is exhibited most clearly in Sebastian’s character, who loves pure Jazz and wants to play nothing but pure Jazz, who then complains about how Jazz is dying because he can’t open the pure Jazz club of his dreams. Chazelle takes opportunities to mock Sebastian’s snobbiness (and Gosling’s performance is self aware), by making him play in a tacky band that covers eighties new wave snythpop as a scut job, for example.

Ultimately you may have to modify your dreams as you grow up in order to make progress. At one point, one of Sebastian’s old school friends Keith (John Legend), tells him to stop talking about the “death of Jazz” and concentrate on the “future of Jazz” saying, “how can you be a revolutionary if you’re a traditionalist?” Being stuck in the past, being stuck in your fantasy, continually sulking about being unsuccessful, isn’t always productive. You may have to adapt your mindset, adjust your plan, allow yourself to go down other paths to follow your passion.

Chazelle is supportive and admiring of his dreamer characters as they pursue their wild visions (one of the songs is all about “those fools who dream”) but this other more critical/cautious view of aspiring artists is strongly felt

You may love “La La Land” for totally different reasons—it’s utter charm, the colorful music numbers, Gosling and Stone, the sweet and sourness of its romantic story etc. While I liked all these things, the picture’s focus on the rocky path of pursuing a creative endeavor (and the ego of the young artist) resonated with me on a deeply personal level; an angle I wasn’t expecting to find in this lavish, nostalgia fueled musical.

A-

Irrational Man Review (2015)

In “Irrational Man” Woody Allen turns Fyodor Dostoevsky’s dense philosophical novel “Crime and Punishment” into a light modern-day mystery/romance. The film addresses a number of interesting philosophical ideas-- mainly existential choice (the freedom to choose) as well as randomness and chance and how those ideas interact with each other in real life. Unfortunately, Allen’s script doesn’t explore these concepts in any great depth—the movie often feels like a bland philosophy lecture. On top of that I just couldn’t buy the central relationship between its two protagonists.

Joaquin Phoenix plays Abe, a philosophy professor who takes up a summer teaching job at a small town college. He’s painfully misanthropic, disillusioned and seemingly on the verge of suicide. Why? Because the world is unfair and he feels he can’t make any meaningful impact. Things change when he befriends one of his students, Jill (Emma Stone) and when they’re out one day, he happens to randomly eavesdrop on a conversation concerning a judge that’s abusing his powers  Hearing this, Abe has an a-ha moment and decides to commit a rather drastic act, a decision that gives him a new lease on life.

This almost one hundred and eighty degree turnaround in Abe’s attitude is the first problem “Irrational Man” runs into. Abe decides to commit this act primarily for selfish reasons; he’s not going to sit back and accept the unfairness of this situation, he’s going to take action. In his mind he’s exercising his freedom to choose and feels doing this act will make the world a better place. While this philosophical reasoning is interesting Abe’s change comes too abruptly. He becomes a different man, happy and relaxed. He’s so sure in his decision that there’s no convincing him otherwise, a change in demeanor I just simply couldn’t believe.

Additionally, after his a-ha moment Abe becomes a rather stale, one-sided character. Like Abe, part of Ralskolnikov (the protagonist of “Crime and Punishment”) does believe his existential act is just and beneficial but there’s another part of him that’s racked with guilt and paranoia. He even becomes physically sick. That other side of Ralskolnikov (the side that makes him multilayered) is missing from Abe. You’d think that as a professional thinker, Abe would consider the repercussions of his actions and have that moral debate in his mind but he doesn’t. He practically shuts his brain off. There’s not much more character development after his turning point and Abe ceases to be a compelling character.

Another problem with “Irrational Man” is it deals with its philosophical ideas, themes and almost everything else in such a heavy-handed, surface level way. For starters, the fact that Abe is indeed a philosophy professor dealing with this big existential crisis feels too on the nose, too obvious. On top of that, between the hindsight voiceover testimonials from Abe and Jill, scenes depicting Abe giving lectures on concepts acted out in the movie and the various philosophical discussions between characters throughout, the film doesn’t leave much for the viewers to dissect afterwards. Everything is left out in the open. To hammer home the “Crime and Punishment” angle further we get a scene where Jill finds Abe’s personal copy of the novel with the judge’s name written in it.

In a scene early on during a lecture, Abe discusses the difference between philosophy in class and applying philosophical ideas to real world situations. In classrooms, you’re dealing with highly theoretical situations that may not fully apply to real life. It’s ironic then, that the picture itself takes such a textbook, didactic approach to its “real life” situations. The only thing missing would be to have Allen himself, standing off to the side of each scene, with a Philosophy 101 textbook open, breaking the fourth wall and instructing us on how a particular philosophical concept applies to the scene at hand.

Finally, the most frustrating aspect of “Irrational Man” is the relationship between Abe and Jill. From the get go Jill is infatuated with Abe; he even rejects her advances at first. She says she’s “in love” with him multiple times. Why is she so in love with him? At the beginning, Abe is a miserable, alcoholic, uncaring schlub and yet she can’t get him out of her mind. We’re told by others that he can be “charismatic--” not once is he charismatic. Jill says he has lots of problems but he’s “brilliant.” We don’t see this brilliance because he goes from being miserable to upbeat and one note. And anyway, not all brilliant people are necessarily sexy. In other words, I didn't buy their romantic relationship for a second and I found it particularly maddening that Jill is the one who lusts so hard after Abe. It sort of feels like an old cynical writer’s fantasy: cute, smart, funny, young Emma Stone lusting after the extreme misanthrope!

"Irrational Man" flat lines and fails to make good use of its meaty concepts. The ending is too quick, wrapping things up too neatly and again, not giving the audience anything to chew on. All in all, the picture is mostly a skin deep, heavy-handed philosophy lecture.

D+