Is A Star Is Born a good film?

I would describe the superhuman effort of trying to capture just how good A Star Is Born is, as akin to climbing Everest if you're someone who's out of breath walking up a single flights of stairs. In other words, you’re dreaming. Because this film is so good that you can help but talk in hyperbole when praising it. It’s doubtful any person would believe that it is as good as it is without seeing it and let there be no mistake - if there is a single film you go to the cinema to watch this year (or any year, really), it needs (NEEDS) to be this one.

Even I - a die-hard Lady Gaga fan who once identified as a ‘little monster’ first, human second - went into the film dubious that it would actually be able to live up to the incredible hype and glowing reviews. Surely no film is *that* good?

Except it is. It absolutely, wholeheartedly is as good as you have heard it is and nothing I say here can do justice to the story of grizzly alcoholic singer-songwriter rock star Jackson Maine (Bradley Cooper - I’ll get to him) and wide-eyed, wise-beyond-her-years Ally (played by Lady Gaga in what will be remembered as the role that catapulted her from mere superstar singer to Hollywood glamazon and all-time great).

It’s a tale that’s been told three times already. First in the 1930s with Janet Gaynor and Fredric March in the roles as the young unknown and big-time icon respectively, then again in 1954 with Judy Garland James Mason reprising the characters and finally in the 70s, where Barbara Streisand starred in a version that is regarded as, well, not great. 

On the face of it, it seems like an odd story to revisit in 2018: rockstar man meets waitress who oozes talent but has thus far been told she’s not enough to ever be famous for whatever reason (in this version it’s because of her nose; “they tell me ‘You sound great, but you don’t look so great’”). As the two fall in love, she skyrockets to fame while he becomes increasingly irrelevant, to tragic ends. It is, without explicitly being so, about the power of men and how unstable that power is, especially when fame is involved.

Even more surprising than the choice of story is probably the fact that Bradley Cooper is a revelatory director. It’s his debut feature and you can’t watch the film without thinking, ‘wow, Bradley Cooper did that.” He also co-wrote the script with Eric Roth and Will Fetters, as well as had a hand in the music (he’s not half bad singer and learnt how to play guitar for the role). In his hands, the story transforms into one that speaks to our time; celebrity overshadowing art, the question of ‘authenticity’ of art in the first place and how capitalism is at the heart of all these problems. What’s more, he does this without the film ever having to explicitly explain it to the audience; it’s implicit in the pitting of pop against songwriter rock, in Jackson repeating the same sanctimonious refrain that the most important thing is having “something to say” and “saying it so people will want to hear”.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This is really, crucially, about two people who fall in love and how, sometimes (oftentimes), love is not enough.

They first meet in a drag bar that Jackson walks into looking for a drink following on of his concerts. It’s there that we’re introduced to Ally, the Star. While others perform while lip synching, she sings - like, proper sings - Edith Piaf’s La Vie En Rose. She’s amazing, but you already should have guessed that and we are as equally captivated as Jackson.

From there, they spent the night together, not like that, just talking about their lives; Ally works as a waitress while living at home with an alcoholic celebrity chauffeur father and Jackson grew up in Arizona with a drunk father and brother who was more of a parent than his parents ever were. In a supermarket parking lot, she writes a song and then sings it for him. From that moment, you know it’s on.

The following day, he organises for his driver to stalk her until she agrees to be flown to his concert the next night in a different city. It’s the kind of situation you dream about as a teenager when your favourite boyband comes to the country: you have a meet-cute (probably in the grocery store or on a random street, though don’t ask why a celebrity would ever just *be* in either of those places whilst overseas), said celebrity falls in love with you and then insists you join them on tour. She is living the ultimate teen girl dream.

She goes and he hauls her on stage to sing the song she wrote in the carpark, 'Shallow'. It will be nominated for Best Song at every big awards show this season and if it does not win - we will take to the streets. It’s like a hit of adrenaline every listen. I get chills just thinking about it. Their connection is visceral and the first half of the film, which captures them falling in love, is what I imagine every young person dreams love looks like.

Ally goes on tour and performs with Jackson, eventually getting noticed by a talent agent, Riz, who promises her the world and more. She becomes a pop star, and while the previous versions of this film hover over the jealousy that Ally’s stardom evokes in Jackson, here, he becomes increasingly beside himself that the woman he loves is being corrupted by the system he hates. He self-medicates with more alcohol and prescription drugs, culminating in a scene that has appeared in every version of the film and is no less devastating this time round. Ally wins a Grammy and Jackson, mortally drunk, follows her up to the stage as she gives her acceptance speech, and without wanting to ruin it for the uninitiated, you will have your head in your hands by scene’s end.

Things don’t get better, and if you haven’t started crying at this point, give it a couple of minutes or so. When Ally consoles a distraught Jackson, who is now attempting to get clean and distraught at the embarrassment he caused her, by telling him “it’s not your fault, it’s a disease” YOU. Will. BE. RUINED. And this isn’t even the most heart-wrenching moment of this spectacular film.

It’s one you’ll see, and then want to see again and again...and again because it’s a film that reminds us of why we love going to the cinema. You’ll go so that when you’re talking to your grandchildren about the “great films of your time”, you can tell them that you saw one of them - perhaps the best of them all - more than once, and that the feelings it left you with (i.e all of them) were better than you can even remember.

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