La La Land kind of Sundays

La-la-land is the kind of place that defines me as a person; I live there, 24/7. I plug my earphones and transfer myself to better days, crazy party nights, passionate kisses that might or might not have happened yet. I take myself for a trip down memory lane and a drive down the future avenue – a treelined one, please – and it is what fuels me, keeps me from passing out on a congested tube carriage.

So, naturally, watching La La Land was an obvious choice. I had my doubts – the reviews I’ve read, official or newsfeed ones, had raised really high expectations that even Christopher Nolan’s movies could not live up to – and granted, I was slightly let down. But it’s normal. The bar was set too high. It was set up to fail. But i’m fine with it, because I still enjoyed it, thoroughly.

If you’re expecting a full movie review, you’ll be disappointed; this is not a movie review kind of blog, and quite frankly I suck at reviewing things. I never seem to find the right adjective to describe something I passionately love or mind-numbingly hate, and the end result is always too underwhelming for my fiery Mediterranean temperament. I’m here to show you a Lala land afternoon.

A morning spent in bed, with no concept of time, no curfews, no need to drink or eat. A morning spent in bed with a special someone, who makes you forget that you need to eat. It is all too romantic, and then hunger hits you, and you have to crawl out of bed and be a human being – how trite. Well, except it’s not, because you embark on an adventure with this special someone, to find the perfect place, and then the perfect movie to top off an excellent lunch/dinner (linner?).

He likes jazz, and I am the la-la-land girl, so the movie seemed like an obvious choice. But I realised, what made this Sunday afternoon so special wasn’t the movie per se (which I thoroughly enjoyed) but the fact that la-la-land and love go well together, they’re the perfect mix. He identified with the struggles of a budding musician, who wants to keep playing jazz and feels the pressure of a regular income as prerequisite for a successful future with a girl constantly. I identified with being the musician’s girl, the girl that has to wait, has to put up with non-traditional working hours and conflicting schedules and random, last-minute gigs that cannot be turned down, because they keep the money coming in and help build rapport with important people. I identified with the struggle of an artist, any artist to make a living out of their art, and of trying to convince people that this art has an objective value, like Mia when she directs and performs her own one-woman comedy show.

Neither of us talked about the ending, because we knew it could be us; things might not work out. But isn’t this true for everyone? Well, it is. But it is even more true for us, because we’re in a long distance relationship, and the possibility of our lives taking different directions is always on the table, and we’re just closing our eyes and taking ourselves to LaLaLand, with its beautiful songs and its belief that dreams can work miracles, and that magic is still there.

Sundays seem like good days to take a small trip to Lalaland. Before Monday and the tube or the train or the traffic suck you in, take yourself to the nearest cinema, splash out your savings and hum along with the lyrics of ‘City of Stars’. And don’t forget to look up the sky; unless you live in London, you might actually be able to see these stars.

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