La La Land

I get why they called it La La Land. I’ve been reading about this land since my teens… when Gore Vidal, Jackie Collins and Joan Collins were some of the various authors whose works I devoured. I have read Joyce Carol Oates, Huxley and Fitzgerald in my college years. I have been a fan of movies since I could walk. I have been raised in Mumbai, a city that has the similar prestige of fulfilling dreams of fame. I have seen Abhimaan, the theme of which was applicable to La La Land, but in a more rustic way… though the music of the former completely outshines the latter – in my opinion.

But then I could talk about the countless other musicals that I think overshadowed La La Land. Singing in the Rain, The Wizard of Oz, The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady! Or if you must remove ourselves from the times when musicals were fantastic then I shall mention Grease, Moulin Rouge, Mamma Mia and Chicago!

I agree that the dynamics here are slightly different – we want grittier stuff, we want a sad ending, we want (do we?) a series of fade ins and outs, we want more reality, we want more angst – but don’t we also want good dancing, good lyrics, good – er, singing? I must say, I expected more. I expected good songs, dammit. It did divert from other musicals when the predominant focus of the movie was just these two characters, the only other character I remember other than the main leads, is the hero’s sister. So that in itself sets the tone apart from almost all other musicals.

I will point out the good stuff. Emma Stone couldn’t sing – but man, that woman can act! She is dynamic and her face is fluid with emotion. She stole my breath away in quite a few scenes, all of them when she is rife with struggle. She needs an accolade, she did but then so did Ryan Gosling. That brings me to him: He played the piano damn well, in fact, he learned how to make love to the black and white keys in a few months, commendable indeed! But acting? His face is pretty and wooden. So then I keep looking to his eyes then for some glimpse of emotion, but not only is his face stone but his eyes are blank. They had to light up his eyes in the end to get some life in them… He is just dispassionate – and he got an award?

The title track: the lyrics are flat, but the melody is breathtaking. It sits with you. You look forward to hearing it even in the background score. The song that I like (lyrics and music – not the singing, mind) is Audition (The Fools Who Dream). The lyrics are beautiful, it has the quality of I Dreamed a Dream, and Anne Hathaway’s is not the best rendition, yet still so moving… ah well. Audition rests as my favoured song from the movie.

But I would really like to ask, why make it into a musical? If you have a sterling actress and a reasonable plot why transform the genre? She is an actress and he is a pianist. We see episodes of her screen tests (magnificent) and we see episodes of him playing the piano. So shouldn’t that have been enough to lay foundation to character and plot?

Maybe it is a musical because of the last few minutes of the movie, when the narrative spins into a Ginger Rogers – Fred Astaire take on how the movie could have been, and when it actually catapaults you into the space where the movie breathes into a musical personality. It’s cut short however. Maybe then they should have just forgotten about making it into a musical – if it is about music, then it should have worked with predominant jazz, that called to Mia in the first place. Make it about his music and not make it into a musical! But then it’s not just about his music – so frankly, let me push the buck and say making it a musical seems misogynistic.

I admit that life has its idiosyncrasies, how people drift, how love and careers seldom make good bedfellows, but all of this could have been done better. Hell, it has been done better. The movie actually makes a little more sense when I see it from a different angle, it’s never about these two characters and their love for each other, it is about these two characters and their love for their careers and how these two enable that to happen in the course of their few months together. The best scene in the movie (no! it wasn’t them dancing in the “stars”) was the argument that they have at the dinner table, when they both tell each other that their dreams are what makes them tick, and the fact that they shouldn’t be given up for love is left hanging like a guillotine.

So the movie makes us understand that the Real and the Romantic do not mix, which is the truth. In reality, we are all really lousy singers. Passion lasts for about a year. You have to go through heartbreak to be successful. Dreams can be found, if dancing among the stars is forsaken, and there you have the paradox of the movie. No dancing together in the city of figurative, twinkling stars but performing in the city of worldly, rich stars

Also, if you note, she has a boyfriend whom she leaves for Seb, after she essentially hears him play the first time – I mean, who doesn’t have a thing for a talented, tortured musician? Okay, that’s a whole different argument. But coming back to my point, she hears him play when she is married in the end, so chances are she may just go back to him later – hopefully, there isn’t a sequel then. And if there is, please don’t let it be a musical!

(And I still didn’t understand why they didn’t get better lyricists for the movie?)

Collateral Beauty

It’s been a while since a movie moved me to tears. I remember it happening when Meryl Streep sang The Winner Takes It All. Today, it happened – not so intensely, but it would have if I wasn’t sitting with a stranger to my left – because I was so deeply moved by the movie. I guess I realise why a movie is called a movie, and I know I speak figuratively, because otherwise it does derive itself literally from moving pictures.

The story was well-written. I loved the personifications of Love, Death and Time. They were surreal and brilliant. Kiera was effervescent as Love, Helen was fantastic as Death, and there was a new boy who played Time, I don’t quite remember his name.

Before the movie, something happened to put me in a melancholy mood. I had come out from a bath and so had Anand and all I asked him to do was lie down beside me and cuddle. Well, it so happened that it was just me cuddling. He couldn’t even bother to put his arms around me. You know, how they say life flashes before you, moments before you die? Well, love flashed before my eyes, and I realised that he truly doesn’t want me anymore.

It’s a bitter thing to swallow. He may need me for various reasons, but I think we are both pulling this through because we are just so used to each other now, we don’t seem to see a world where the other doesn’t feature – and ever since we opened the relationship any semblance of intimacy we had is truly dead. At least on his behalf. I keep trying to touch him, but then again, that’s just me. For him, he couldn’t even be bothered to try.

It’s not a sexual thing, love never was with me… And I have only just realised that – I always would equate making love with love and that is not true. There is a saying that Helen Mirren, as Death, mentions to a parent at the loss of their child, “Just make sure you notice the collateral beauty.”

That is what I have been doing… every time something little dies in me, I try and think of why I am carrying on. What pulls me to another day. What gets me to work at night. What makes me think of another Christmas. Writing this I feel I may just burst into tears, but all I am doing is think about the collateral beauty of it all. I just keep gathering it, and gathering it and gathering…

A Jaded Journalist

It has taken me a long time to get back to writing in a journal. I am this self-proclaimed journalist. Never realised that the word ‘journalist’ could be used for someone who is intent on writing memoirs of one’s own days as they pass on by, heedlessly even, or maybe, if I am in a forgiving mood, lambently.

I have nothing really to contribute except a vast plethora of thoughts as they sweep over my consciousness way faster than I can type them all down. This is like a stream of consciousness zone which is more a tidal wave of thought than a stream.

What prompted me to write in were two things. I reminisced about journals and diaries and what they used to mean to me so very long ago. How did this come about? Well, I was watching Zindagi Gulzar Hai, a Pakistani soap opera, and both the protagonists seem to have a penchant for writing journals. And secondly, I have this brilliant new iMac and I keep wanting to see how fast my fingers can fly over this silver-white keyboard.

I am not very obliged to write down everything that comes to mind, but I will write down how I feel after so long a time has passed since I have done that in confessional prose as opposed to confessional poetry.

The days have been passing one by one. There has been a steady stream of men who come into my life, make me happy for a few hours and then leave. The man who I chose to spend my existence with seems oblivious to my emotional state – not that he ever was attuned to the inner workings of my mind or heart – and the not so surprising part is that I have grown used to his oblivion. The art of compromise has reached post graduation level and I don’t really see the point in fussing over something that he has no control over. It’s almost like when he cheated on me. It wasn’t the sex that hurt because I know it wasn’t an urge that could be controlled but the fact that he had lied about it all.

But I always digress. I picked up the iMac day before, on a Tuesday, and I am quite happy that I am working on it. It seems all that I had hoped for. And so in my 41st year, I have achieved a 1.5 lakh worth computer. So what if it has been paid for by the one who employs me – in order that I do more of his work. But I must say – having it here makes me want to work more.

Nothing much to report except the fact that I have swung back to old habits of sleeping beyond way six in the morning and waking up around three in the afternoon. I must revert back to sleeping at six so I can at least wake up with softer bags under my eyes at a decent time of one.

My favourite month has begun today. And I welcome it.