LA LA LAND directed by Damien Chazelle (USA, 2016)
Movies don’t exist in vacuums. La La Land is the ideal antidote to the ongoing carnage of Trump.
It presents a cloud cuckoo land where the American dream is alive and skipping with a populace ready to burst into song at the drop of a hat.
Here, a traffic jam on a Los Angeles freeway is an excuse for a spontaneous party.
Here is a glossy world where the chief concerns are the demise of traditional jazz and the difficulty of breaking into Hollywood.
A world in which romance is not dead, racism doesn’t exist and where gender roles are well-defined. For two hours, we can pretend that all is well with the world and can exit the auditorium gushing that they do, after all, still make ’em like they used to.
It’s a movie that forgets it is a musical half way through and remembers just in time to concoct a grande finale but, just to show its post modernist edge, denies us the satisfaction of seeing our hero and heroine dancing off into the stars hand in hand.
In short, the mega-hyped La La Land is plastic, superficial and dumb. The perfect entertainment package served up as opium for the masses. An escapist yarn with the flimsiest of plots that the critics and audiences, desperate for distraction in these desperate times, are gleefully lapping up in their droves.
Not me! I stand with the party poopers.