Let’s LA LA LAND Again
This blog will have a plot spoiler, so if you intend to watch La La Land and haven’t, you may want to skip it. We recently went to see La La Land at Marshall 6, and for a small town, showing a movie without something blowing up is refreshing. But, in many ways, the movie did blow up at the end.
Many of you know, it is a musical homage to old-time movies, jazz music, love stories, and Hollywood life. It all worked for me until the ending, but here’s why it blew up by fizzling. As a writer, I expect characters to be consistent even if I don’t expect them to all live happily-ever-after. I’ve even killed off a few of my popular ones, because the plot and the thematic development demanded their death.
All that said, I feel Mia at the end was changed too much off-camera during a five-year hiatus of which we learn nothing. She changed inconsistently with the character that developed throughout 95% of the movie. She lacked an objective correlative, as T. S. Eliot might say, a solid reason for her complete change.
In the end, Sebastian didn’t win her, but movies can end with a broken heart. I can live with that. But, at least he is consistent if unloved at the end. He had his life, a life of jazz at his own club, but Mia was sucked into the worst of “La La Land.” She became a success, but one existing in as hollow a life off-screen as any shell of a character on-screen. Her so-called life at the end was with a husband she clearly didn’t love, a child she shunted off to a nanny, and all the vapid pizzazz and glam that encapsulates the falseness of a lifestyle without substance. She has it all but actually has nothing.
Even in Casablanca, reasons exist why Ilsa has to end up with Victor Laszlo. But all three characters in the love-triangle—Rick, Ilsa, and Victor—are well-developed. Nothing new is added to smooth over the choices that Ilsa and Rick have to make. Even the bromance of Rick and Captain Renault seems plausible. Rick makes his choices, he’s welcomed back to the fight, and the hill of beans is settled. All the pieces fit. And the pieces make sense. No so in La La Land.
Mia’s daydream when she meets Sebastian five years later tells a better story than her real life. And their wistful looks as they part, without speaking, only reinforces that everyone viewing the film knew that this ending was unsatisfying. His smirk and playing a jazz tune doesn’t replace love. Her turning to walk out with Mr. Cardboard doesn’t seem like a walk with a man she loves. The whole ending seems stuck on, not developed. We meet a new Mia, and she is hollow. Empty. Not particularly likeable. Not the fresh kid we grew to love earlier. And we ask, why? Tell us why and how this happened.
If Mia really loved Sebastian, if he really loved her—damn it, as the movie leads us to believe—they would have worked it out. Good writers, sensitive writers, would have had the guts to write the movie that way. That love and happiness can come together, even in a “Hollywood couple.” That careers don’t have to be a stumbling block to love. That love is the key source of satisfaction in life, not success. I wanted to scream at the screenwriters, that spineless gaggle aiming to produce a product that fills theaters rather than producing art, “Hey, rat bastards, sit your arses down and re-watch The Princess Bride. ‘Love, true love…’”
Here’s how I would have ended it. She has her Paris audition. They don’t know what will happen. She says, “I will always love you.” Cut, segue, three months later: Paris, the Eiffel Tower, Mia being filmed, a crowd gathered off-camera to watch. When there’s a break in filming, Sebastian is standing in the crowd. She greets him tentatively. He says, “Paris has lots of jazz clubs.” She answers, “We’ll always have Paris.” Kiss. Ending credits.
Vague, but hopeful. Vague, but full of possibility for those ceaselessly romantic who wants to believe our couple will work it out. The cynical can always have it end, mentally, like a lead stone on a pond at Versailles. But, think of this, it cuts out the cardboard and alleged husband, the stiff in the suit. It also cuts out the unloved child who will go from pediatric meds to anti-depressants to street drugs to rehab and/or suicide. (Book deal later.)
As my faithful readers know, I was royally ticked off at Downton Abbey when Matthew Crawley was killed in that car accident at the end of Season Three. I realize the scene and his demise were needed because the actor wanted to move on to new waters professionally. But, part of what bothered me most is that culturally our movies, our ubiquitous mini-series seasons, have such a limited and dim view of marriage and relationships.
Maybe in a comedy, maybe in a light kids’ movie, we find a rare, longstanding relationship. But our modern culture seems to thrive on the broken, the hurting, the hungering. I don’t mind that. Art, fiction, should be truthful. But on the other hand, let’s face it, it is also true that people can love each other—deeply, passionately, endlessly—and not tear each other apart, drive their kids to drugs or to suicide. Couples can do more than just sit there together, hating each other but being afraid to separate.
Dammit, celebrate love. The struggle to find love, develop love, is the point. To grow and mature in that love. And in the long run, we thrive as humans based on the quality of whom and what we love. I guess I really am an old-fashioned romantic that way, but love conquers all. Much more so than a limo and a glitzy career.
On Valentine’s Day I hope you’re celebrating with someone you love. And if so inclined, I hope you watch a great movie: Groundhog’s Day, Pride and Prejudice, Miss Potter, Calendar Girls, Brooklyn, Love Actually. And especially Casablanca.
All I am saying is, give love a chance. So, in my mind, Mia got her film career, Sebastian got his jazz club, yet they manage to juggle being together. Struggling. Arguing. Making up. Laughing. Crying. And shuffling off all the outside pressures that kill relationships. They end up, not shallow and plastic, but real.
This blog will have a plot spoiler, so if you intend to watch La La Land and haven’t, you may want to skip it. We recently went to see La La Land at Marshall 6, and for a small town, showing a movie without something blowing up is refreshing. But, in many ways, the movie did blow up at the end.
Many of you know, it is a musical homage to old-time movies, jazz music, love stories, and Hollywood life. It all worked for me until the ending, but here’s why it blew up by fizzling. As a writer, I expect characters to be consistent even if I don’t expect them to all live happily-ever-after. I’ve even killed off a few of my popular ones, because the plot and the thematic development demanded their death.
All that said, I feel Mia at the end was changed too much off-camera during a five-year hiatus of which we learn nothing. She changed inconsistently with the character that developed throughout 95% of the movie. She lacked an objective correlative, as T. S. Eliot might say, a solid reason for her complete change.
In the end, Sebastian didn’t win her, but movies can end with a broken heart. I can live with that. But, at least he is consistent if unloved at the end. He had his life, a life of jazz at his own club, but Mia was sucked into the worst of “La La Land.” She became a success, but one existing in as hollow a life off-screen as any shell of a character on-screen. Her so-called life at the end was with a husband she clearly didn’t love, a child she shunted off to a nanny, and all the vapid pizzazz and glam that encapsulates the falseness of a lifestyle without substance. She has it all but actually has nothing.
Even in Casablanca, reasons exist why Ilsa has to end up with Victor Laszlo. But all three characters in the love-triangle—Rick, Ilsa, and Victor—are well-developed. Nothing new is added to smooth over the choices that Ilsa and Rick have to make. Even the bromance of Rick and Captain Renault seems plausible. Rick makes his choices, he’s welcomed back to the fight, and the hill of beans is settled. All the pieces fit. And the pieces make sense. No so in La La Land.
Mia’s daydream when she meets Sebastian five years later tells a better story than her real life. And their wistful looks as they part, without speaking, only reinforces that everyone viewing the film knew that this ending was unsatisfying. His smirk and playing a jazz tune doesn’t replace love. Her turning to walk out with Mr. Cardboard doesn’t seem like a walk with a man she loves. The whole ending seems stuck on, not developed. We meet a new Mia, and she is hollow. Empty. Not particularly likeable. Not the fresh kid we grew to love earlier. And we ask, why? Tell us why and how this happened.
If Mia really loved Sebastian, if he really loved her—damn it, as the movie leads us to believe—they would have worked it out. Good writers, sensitive writers, would have had the guts to write the movie that way. That love and happiness can come together, even in a “Hollywood couple.” That careers don’t have to be a stumbling block to love. That love is the key source of satisfaction in life, not success. I wanted to scream at the screenwriters, that spineless gaggle aiming to produce a product that fills theaters rather than producing art, “Hey, rat bastards, sit your arses down and re-watch The Princess Bride. ‘Love, true love…’”
Here’s how I would have ended it. She has her Paris audition. They don’t know what will happen. She says, “I will always love you.” Cut, segue, three months later: Paris, the Eiffel Tower, Mia being filmed, a crowd gathered off-camera to watch. When there’s a break in filming, Sebastian is standing in the crowd. She greets him tentatively. He says, “Paris has lots of jazz clubs.” She answers, “We’ll always have Paris.” Kiss. Ending credits.
Vague, but hopeful. Vague, but full of possibility for those ceaselessly romantic who wants to believe our couple will work it out. The cynical can always have it end, mentally, like a lead stone on a pond at Versailles. But, think of this, it cuts out the cardboard and alleged husband, the stiff in the suit. It also cuts out the unloved child who will go from pediatric meds to anti-depressants to street drugs to rehab and/or suicide. (Book deal later.)
As my faithful readers know, I was royally ticked off at Downton Abbey when Matthew Crawley was killed in that car accident at the end of Season Three. I realize the scene and his demise were needed because the actor wanted to move on to new waters professionally. But, part of what bothered me most is that culturally our movies, our ubiquitous mini-series seasons, have such a limited and dim view of marriage and relationships.
Maybe in a comedy, maybe in a light kids’ movie, we find a rare, longstanding relationship. But our modern culture seems to thrive on the broken, the hurting, the hungering. I don’t mind that. Art, fiction, should be truthful. But on the other hand, let’s face it, it is also true that people can love each other—deeply, passionately, endlessly—and not tear each other apart, drive their kids to drugs or to suicide. Couples can do more than just sit there together, hating each other but being afraid to separate.
Dammit, celebrate love. The struggle to find love, develop love, is the point. To grow and mature in that love. And in the long run, we thrive as humans based on the quality of whom and what we love. I guess I really am an old-fashioned romantic that way, but love conquers all. Much more so than a limo and a glitzy career.
On Valentine’s Day I hope you’re celebrating with someone you love. And if so inclined, I hope you watch a great movie: Groundhog’s Day, Pride and Prejudice, Miss Potter, Calendar Girls, Brooklyn, Love Actually. And especially Casablanca.
All I am saying is, give love a chance. So, in my mind, Mia got her film career, Sebastian got his jazz club, yet they manage to juggle being together. Struggling. Arguing. Making up. Laughing. Crying. And shuffling off all the outside pressures that kill relationships. They end up, not shallow and plastic, but real.
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