The glorious highs -- and unfortunate lows -- of Damien Chazelle's LA LA LAND

The opening number of LA LA LAND, as you've by now most likely heard, is a five-star wonder. It is almost as if that famous traffic pile-up from Godard's Weekend had suddenly taken flight into the realm of the Hollywood musical. Damien Chazelle's new movie owes much more, however, to the work of Jacques Demy than anyone else I can think of. And if it doesn't manage to come up to Demy's level of marvel (who could?), it remains, at its best, a splendor to behold. At least for those of us who can still appreciate the delights of the not-so-often-seen-these-days movie musical. We're here, all right, but we may not be in large enough numbers to make this critic's darling an all-out box-office blockbuster.

Mr. Chazelle, pictured at left, whose third and best film this is -- after the initial sleep-inducing Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench and the propulsive but utterly over-the-top and unbelievable Whiplash -- has written and directed something that works very well on one level (as a musical) but merely OK on another (as a character-based romance). His characters, as usual, are paper-thin -- they're all motivated by one thing and one thing only -- even if (also as usual), they are played by very good actors -- in this case, Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone, shown above and below. Even the supporting cast is filled with creme-de-la-creme, although they are, to an actor, under-used in the extreme.

But since it is Gosling and Stone who must do all the heavy-lifting, we pretty much disregard the rest of the cast, except to note in passing, "Oh, look: There's Rosemarie DeWitt (below). Or J.K. Simmons (further below) Or John Legend! (shown at bottom)." And yes, there they all are.

The story, too, could hardly be more pedestrian. Boy and girl want a career and each other. But it seems as though these two goals are incompatible. At least in the universe of Mr. Chazelle. So they -- and we -- must settle.

There are compensations -- for both the characters and us viewers. Their careers turn out to be achievable, all right. (This is a Hollywood movie about Hollywood, after all.) And La La Land, for its audience -- depending on how much one can overlook -- is often at least a semi-delight.

The music, including even the much-vaunted City of Stars, is not particularly memorable, although there is that nifty opening number, and Ms Stone gets to sing one wonderful song toward movie's end that is beautifully written and performed.

What drags the movie down is its would-be love story between two people who really don't have much character, other than their often talked-and-sung-about "dreams." These two are walking clichés. They're fine, and then all of a sudden, with some space between them, they're not. And as much specificity as Stone and Gosling attempt to bring to their roles, the pair remains, alas, cardboard. Oh, movie fans and the very young will identify, all right. But the more jaded or simply experienced among us will want more.

The dancing, too, while sometimes lovely and seemingly almost improvised, is also not especially professional. There's no budding Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Cyd Charisse or Leslie Caron on view. So La La Land, for all its outreach and occasional success, must be judged a worthy attempt that provides some pretty good entertainment, and includes some really lovely colors, costumes and production design. We are indeed starved for musicals, however, so this one certainly fills the bill for now.

After opening in the culture capitals a week or so back, the movie -- from Lionsgate and running two hours and eight minutes -- opens across the country this Friday. Here in South Florida you can view it at a number of local theaters. Wherever you are, to find the theater nearest you, simply click here.

Driven drummer comes up against maniacal mentor in Damien Chazelle's WHIPLASH

Another case of inflated expectations (not entirely sinking but) dragging down a serviceable, feel-good (after feeling really bad) movie featuring a few terrific scenes, WHIPLASH is musical melodrama writ very large. One of those "if you'll believe this, you'll believe most anything" compilations of unlikely events growing even more unlikely as they lead to a thrilling, if ridiculous, climax, the film is certainly fun in its over-the-top way. As written and directed by Damien Chazelle (his follow-up to Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench), this second full-lengther also features an all-stops-out performance from an actor, J. K. Simmons, whom people will now claim has suddenly come into his own.

Except that Simmons has been his very capable "own man" for almost three decades now. He's never given anything less than a good performance that I've seen. It's just that here, he finally gets star billing -- along with a one-note role that he rips into and tears to shreds. Simmons plays Professor Fletcher, the much-feared music teacher and orchestra leader of the famed New York-based music school which our hero, Andrew (Miles Teller) attends in the hopes of becoming a bigtime drummer. Neither one-note role offer much in the way of recognizable human nature or nuance. Writer/director Chazelle, shown above, makes Fletcher, below, a mustache-twirling villain, the likes of whom we've not seen since Snidely Whiplash (whom I suddenly realize must have been the inspiration behind this film), pitted against the naive-but-talented, obsessively driven Andrew.

What happens in the course of the movie defies credibility a number of times, but for those who like their melodrama lip-smackingly pungent, this one offers plenty of juice. The ongoing duet of symbolically (and once nearly literally) death-defying stunts keeps upping the ante until, if I'm not mistaken, we're at Carnegie Hall, for Christ's sake.

Performances are quite good, working wonderfully well for melodrama (Joan Crawford would have loved this movie), including the supporting performances from Paul Reiser (lovely and low-keyed as Andrew's dad), Melissa Benoist (below, left, as his unappreciated girlfriend), and Chris Mulkey (as Uncle Frank). The one dinner scene in which Mulkey appears seems to have been written, as has so much else in the movie, with a clear point to make and so comes off as a little unreal, unlike any actual dinner you might have witnessed. Chazelle does not yet have the ability to finesse dialog in the manner that real dialog happens -- unless it's super-confrontational. He's certainly good at that.

Chazelle also keeps trying to give the Fletcher character a saving grace or two, and this grows a bit silly over time, as Simmons is clearly playing the guy as evil, even and especially when he appears to be going for "nice."

The film's final scene, which offers the what-you've-been-waiting-for showdown, also contains some of the worst, back-and-forth, tennis-tournament cinematography I've viewed all year.

While it is indeed great to see Simmons in another leading role (most people missed him in The Music Never Stopped), next time I'll hope for something a little more believable (but probably not nearly as much fun). Mr. Teller, below, who bids fair to become the best actor of his young generation, is fine once again. He does a bang-up job on the drums, too, and will certainly convince you that he can beat the hell out of 'em. But, as called for here, he is either cowed or loud, so this is nowhere near as nuanced a performance as he gives in the current Two Night Stand or has given elsewhere.

Don't get me wrong: Whiplash, eminently watchable, is and a hoot and a half. But people, please: Are you really taking this movie seriously?

The film -- from Sony Pictures Classics and running 106 minutes -- opens theatrically this Friday, October 10, in Los Angeles (at The Landmark, AMC Century City 15 and Hollywood Arclight) and New York City (at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema, Regal Union Square and Cinemas 123) and will expand throughout the country in the weeks following. Click here to see all currently scheduled playdates.

GUY AND MADELINE ON A PARK BENCH hits theaters. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Perhaps one must be a jazz-lover to best appreciate the film finally making its theatrical debut this week, GUY AND MADELINE ON A PARK BENCH -- one of those movies which, for the past year or so, was said to be among the as-yet unreleased films that most deserved the chance to be seen. Well, it's here at last, and we can judge for ourselves. When TrustMovies heard that G&M on a PB was a musical, to boot, he became extremely excited, as visions of something Jacques Demy-ish began to dance in his head. 'Fraid not, folks. To TM's taste, this is one of the biggest yawns of the movie year.

I'll go back to that jazz-lover reference above, which I suspect may have to do with how resistible I find this film.  I've never "cottened" much to jazz in its purer form, maybe because it is too improvisational for my taste, too off-the-cuff, raw, even sloppy. The film's lead character, Guy, played by Jason Palmer, is an up-and-coming jazz musician, and the film's director's (Damien Chazelle, shown at left) must have a huge love for this musical genre, for his entire film has a looseness and improvisational feel that smacks of jazz.

My biggest problem with G&M on a PB is that I didn't care a fig for any of its lead characters. There are three of these: Guy, his early and later girlfriend Madeline (Desiree Garcia), and another girl (Sandha Khin, shown below) who inserts herself into Guy's life for a time. They seem to spend most of the movie on automatic pilot, moving from event to event without much interest and little dedication. This may very well be believable in "real life" but it can be deadly to movies, and it certainly is here, unless you're willing to fill in all the blanks -- performance, dialog, even direction -- yourself.

The music may provide the biggest clue to how the fillm is perceived. I found it ordinary to a fault. But for all I know it may be great "jazz." At the finale, one character plays a song to another. What are we to think of this, my companion and I wondered?  Is it supposed to be good? Bad? Indifferent? And what does this mean?  Does either character involved care? And how are we to tell -- since the actors on view seem to prefer the inexpressive mode?

Throughout, the music seems paltry, and the musical "numbers" tiresome. The one big song-and-dance piece set in a restaurant is near embarrassing in its amateurish look, feel and sound. This sort of thing has been done so much better (Demy, again) that, in the case of this particular song, my non-appreciation for jazz does not even come into play.

Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench is unusual enough, however, that I must suggest you think twice before pasing it up. My predilections may be blinding me to its low-key "brilliance," though I doubt this. I suspect this movie tends to divide audiences rather thoroughly, and in fact, this is what one of its publicists conveyed to me. So unless you find yourself fully agreeing with much that I've said, give it a chance and see what you think. Just don't say I didn't warn you. (There are some lovely visuals -- the photography's in black-and-white -- scattered throughout the film: See one of these, below.)

G&M on a PB&J  -- no, no -- just a PB -- from Variance Films, opens Friday at the Cinema Village in New York City.  And perhaps elsewhere, eventually.

(All photos are from the film itself, except that of Mr. Chazelle, which is by Jennifer Taylor for The Boston Globe)