La La Land

Heartbeats in harmonized constructs and contrasts, patience, impertinence, concessions, gall, twirling unfurling enduring expressionless fancies and flights intertwined with supine toyed devotion, blinding cataracts effervescent turbulence trusted and truly exonerating impressions jocose and dear starstruck fearless appearances awe inspired odysseys, caféd candlelit assuréd indiscretions, caught up in each others arms, candied (torn) in La La Land.

The stubborn and the starboard expressly romanticizing multigeneric medleys, relational urgencies bejewel tranced sashays.

That's me being romantic.

A life, of solitude.

Fluttering jittery animated embraces, what seems eternally inclined must professionally brace itself for itinerant scheduling, Mia (Emma Stone [outstanding]) and Sebastian's (Ryan Gosling) relationship fond of its festive familiarity yet troubled by tangents, sand duned by success.

But there's a classic Hollywood ending that anyone who's ever loved and lost may find sorrowfully endearing, the music and the magic and the mirth meteorically meshing with cosmic interplay.

An excellent beginning too, either I've lived long enough to start liking musicals or Damien Chazelle's La La Land is a notable exception, the film thoughtfully mixing different catchy styles to metaphorically synergize loveable forays, ones which last for a while anyways, the mundane micromovements, passionate parlays, intimate insights, and unique syntheses generated through sustained commitment viscerally subsumed.

The film's full of troubles and tearjerks and hugs, celebrating resiliency as it's dismally challenged, the authority a couple creates enigmatically as their own.

For themselves.

Pour La Strada.

Incrementally partitioned with existentially aligned spice, it swirls as it seasons, dips as it sways.

*Couples can be existential.

Yes they can.