Brave. Seriously unflinching - neither the film people make it out to be, nor the film people seem to be expecting, La La Land is a film infatuated with layers of falsehood - fairytales, filmmaking, Hollywood, classical romances - primarily, of course, the most false layer of all: the Musical Number. It's phenomenally accomplished, then, that every musical number in La La Land is essentially a variation on one of two songs: the film plays out in two halves, about two people, in two aesthetic modes, with two key musical queues.

Massive props to Chazelle, of course, for allowing the final moments to play out with as much brutality as they do; yet masked by sweet energy, smiling faces and a whirlpool of production devices -- in these moments, it feels like Stone & Gosling are performing for their lives. It's both a traditional film about progression, and a progressive film about tradition.

This isn't even starting on the immaculate achievement in cinematography and direction - what other musical allows each musical number to have a distinctly different aesthetic momentum (the opening one-take, the big CGI-based middle-number, the pure insanity of the final dance)? Not only does each image further the rhythm of the film (and rhythm is something Chazelle excels at - both compulsively (as in Whiplash) and subtly (here)), but each aspect of each composition furthers the expressionist presentations of how these characters perceive the present - the present is, of course, a box that they force each other into - they're constantly telling each other that "this is what you want," never considering what they went for themselves. Ultimately, what's left are selfless actions leaving selfish people to wallow in their bad choices. Not only is this a more accomplished film than Whiplash; it's also the same film: young up-and-comers have nothing to lose so they chase their dreams, their dream comes true. finally, they realize that dream is a nightmare.

Of course, once they each find themselves living their dream/nightmare for real, they construct new fantasies (new families, new ideas, falling back on old (unfulfilled) dreams and letting those consume time and energy).

Note that words mean almost nothing here, there are so many broken vows and misunderstood implications (unspoken promises that were never followed up on). Communication has broken down, but dance is universal. Alongside this, it's not just a musical - it's a drama about music: the power of lies to dazzle the individual, the power of the image to convey but then distort a could-have-been truth (I should have known something was up when the film reel burned up on their first date). Not only is reality a constructed version of itself in this movie, but everything we see is deliberately folded into and under and outside itself; for these reasons I think it's a far more intellectual film than many are expecting (or have given it credit for). It's hard to get to the core of what makes this film great without spoiling the ending, but it's a great one, so I'll let you find out for yourself. Jazz is alive. Musicals are alive. Film is alive.

Demy would be proud. Brecht would be proud. Chazelle deserves it all.