La La Land

Spoilers: I will be talking about the movie and soundtrack with no regard for saving you from spoilers. I highly recommend seeing La La Land if you like sad movies and musicals, and wish there were more musicals with the emotional wallop of Moulin Rouge. 

Not a spoiler: I started writing this morning, dictating to my phone, worked on it during breaks, and finished 1100 words by 4:30! (Plus 18 minutes of formatting work.)

It’s Monday morning and I’m walking to work. I’ve just finished listening to the Beatles’ album, “Let it Be,” and decided to go for something energetic and punchy, so I put on La La Land. As “Another Day of Sun” plays, I sing along loudly enough that people nearby look at me, but not so loudly that everyone on the street bursts into choreography.

But somehow, it is not making me cheerful. I can’t sing more than a few lines without getting choked up. “It’s another day of sun!” Why is that heartbreaking?

“And when they let you down,
you’ll get up off the ground,
‘cause morning comes around
and it’s another day of sun!”

I suddenly realized that La La Land is a musical about the Triumph of The Empire. In this case, The Empire of Entertainment. A machine that grinds up souls to make movies and television and pop stars and people who are referred to as “Talent.”

The phrase “It’s another day of sun!” is the sound of the Empire taking control, telling you that everything is not just okay, it’s great! The musical theme right after it goes up, then down again, a classic, full horn section big band playing their hearts out! The ending is triumphant, “It’s another day of sun!” as though all disappointments and chasing of stars and leaving love behind is a good thing. 

That theme comes back in “Someone in the Crowd,” subtle and quiet this time, whispering, seducing, then building to a melody on the prowl. The lyrics seem to be about people choosing a glamorous life, but it’s no more about a free choice than people in a Coke commercial, sharing a special moment over a bottle of sugar water and chemicals. The Empire is served when you keep your nose to the grindstone and tell yourself that maybe at the next random party you will meet the producer who is holding your future in his hands. The Empire is served when you get up off the ground after you've been knocked down, believing that it's all what you want, that it is worth any sacrifice. Give everything to The Empire and maybe you will be a star .

I don’t think I can unhear this. 

Mia and Sebastian have their own theme, a very human and endearing tune that flows like a fountain. Except that as it progresses, it adds discordant bits. By the end it feels more like falling down a staircase, which might be a foreshadowing of their breakup. As we go through the movie, their theme is revisited, reflecting the ups and downs of their relationship: Planetarium is a fantasy of falling in love. It could fit into a Studio Ghibli movie, visually as well as orchestrally. 

Before that Sebastian sings City of Stars. It is beautifully melancholy, a torch song from Seb to L.A. itself, The Empire. It’s like he knows she is bad for him, but he can’t resist. A love song from the oppressed to the oppressor. "Are you shining just for me?" he begs. Later Seb and Mia share the song. At first glance, it's a love song between the two of them, but it’s actually more like two addicts discussing the sublimities of heroin. It’s a hint that they are both looking for the same thing, and it isn’t each other. They just happen to be in tune at the moment.

“We Can Start a Fire” is an odd song on the soundtrack by the legendary John Legend. He’s an amazing songwriter and performer, and in La La Land he is the Herald of The Empire: he brings temptation to Seb, the promise of money and fame, the opportunity to use his musical talents in an amazing way in front of thousands of people. The only price for Seb is leaving Mia, and setting aside his longtime dream of Seb’s Place. 

Mia sings Audition (The Fools Who Dream), about her aunt who went to Paris: a fool who moves far away, breaks hearts and makes messes. She tumbled into the Seine and got sick, but it was all worth it. Her aunt dreams big and dies an alcoholic. She was an artist who made the world a better place. Surely The Empire has no need of a story like that, right? Mia wouldn’t make a choice like that, right? 

Mia and Seb both choose their dreams over each other, the dreams handed down by The Empire. And because the story is told by The Empire itself, their dreams come true: Seb gets his jazz bar, and Mia gets her career.

But they don’t get each other. Which is startlingly honest for The Empire. It is just subversive enough for me to love it. And frankly speaking, the music is so captivatingly good that I took my wife to see it in the theater based on the videos I linked to in this piece, and probably just two or three of them. The last scene of the movie is “Epilogue,” which is a musical video summary of the whole story the way The Empire would have told it, with a literal Hollywood ending. In other words, it’s the dream version of what is already a dream ending.

La La Land knocked me out the first time I saw it, and it continues to move me. I am almost at 1,000 words here, but the ideas and feelings tied up in this movie and its songs are so rich that I managed to start and finish this post before 5:00 on the day I started writing it. I will admit that I may have been a bit distracted during a couple of my classes, and may have ranted to one or two of them about how they really need to see La La Land. Just as I am about to rant to you.

If you haven’t seen La La Land yet, I highly recommend it. I barely touched on the visuals, and it is gorgeous. I didn’t hit all the songs, and they are all good. The chemistry between Sebastian and Mia feels real, and the humor feels real. And when it starts to fall apart, that feels real, too. You don’t get that kind of authenticity much in movies, and even less so in musicals. 

A Maxine Story

Today I had a one-on-one lesson with a middle school girl who I have been teaching for a couple of years. I have been pushing her to ask questions in general, and at the end of our hour I told her to ask me three questions, any topic.

She asked what I would do after our lesson. (Go home, prepare some dinner for Quinten, as Maxine and Horyon would be out.)

She asked another question, which I cannot remember.

Then she asked if anything special had happened to me. I pointed out that at 53 years old, I have had many, many special experiences, so she added, "recently."

I thought for a moment, then shared this with her:

Maxine's project is this weekend. She has been sleeping only three or four hours a night, staying late at school, and seriously stressing out. This morning, after her mother and brother had left, she came to me and said, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I really wanted to do my project in Korean and English, so that you could understand it. I just can't."

I was very quick to forgive her, and tell her that I hoped she would not worry about it. She promised to tell me all about her project afterwards, we hugged, and I told her I was proud of her.

I told this little story to my student, and as I was telling her, I got choked up. She was horrified that might be crying, told me, "Don't do that!" So I took a few breaths and refocused. Then she asked me why I was crying. I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue and explained to her, "So many feelings at the same time: happy, and sad, and proud. It was too much."

I decided that damage control was in order, which usually means teacher mode. I told her that special moments happen more often than we realize, but we don't notice. When we pay attention, we see that people are amazing, and that your life is better when you look out for them. 

Then I jokingly made her promise not to tell anyone, and was soon on my way home.

I found my own reaction to my story a bit puzzling. It certainly didn't hit me that hard as it was happening, nor immediately afterward. It was only as I was telling it that it had an emotional impact on me. On my way home, I had a few thoughts:

First, Maxine's days of living with us are numbered, almost certainly fewer than she has already spent living with us. I will miss her big time, even though she has spent most of the past year sealed into her room, or out studying with friends, or meeting her (second) boyfriend. She has a delightfully sarcastic sense of humor, as well as a fair streak of ridiculousness: she is the only other person our home who gets some of my jokes. These moments of connection will still happen, I'm sure, but once she has moved out there will be fewer opportunities for them.

Second, it was very touching that she wanted to include me, and felt bad at not being able to. It was like seeing myself in a mirror, hearing her say that she had not planned well enough to include me. I cannot count how many times in my life I have set out with good intentions, only to arrive at Port Disappoint Everyone.* I suppose that every parent sees their own biggest flaws embodied in their children at times. Maxine was counting down the hours until the biggest production of her life,** but she felt bad because it wasn't perfect. Her blend of caring and poor planning and sincerity and love was such a perfect reflection of myself, for such a brief moment, and I didn't even realize it until someone asked.

*I know that I also do some things right, but the times I disappoint others and myself stick out in my mind.

**Which, by the way, she knocked out of the park.

Third, I need to figure out what's going on in my heart that such a simple question can bring on such a flood of emotion. That is most definitely another post for another day. Especially considering that it took me a month to wrap this one up!