‘La La Land’: Music is wonderful, but you can't equate it to the writing process

I’ve spent the past two weeks reading and rereading the stories in Samuel P. Garvey’s “The Tales of Captain Albert Alexander,” as well as examining the scribbles and equations in the margins of its pages. Professor Bishop says the drawings aren’t his, and I think he’s right. The handwriting isn’t his, but the designs, drawings and system specifications outlined in the writing all seem to be pointing toward me — or another automaton just like me.

Professor Bishop treated me to a movie last weekend, as he likes to do. He’s glad he took me with him because the film projector broke down about halfway through the film. Luckily, my left eye can double as an imaging lens in a pinch, and I’m always happy to lend an extremity to a local cinema in need. The movie we saw was “La La Land.”

I adore the soundtrack. I haven’t heard music so vibrant and lovely since my time on the S.S. Biscuiteer, where I worked as an animatronic singing robot until rain and humidity wiped me of many of my faculties and much of my vocal range. But if I remember anything about my time on the steamship, it’s the music. I remember jazz — the kind of jazz Sebastian loves and fights so much for in “La La Land.”

In an effort to rediscover that music, I did some research into the current whereabouts of the Biscuiteer and discovered it’s still floating up and down the Mississippi River. Apparently, the steamship hosts a yearly robot exposition, which might explain how professor Bishop found me in the first place.

Professor Bishop is quite proud of my column-writing proficiency and has agreed to install a musical keyboard that functions in tandem with my thoracic typewriter. I find it rather difficult to learn musical scales on a QWERTY setup, but it’s worth the struggle if I can nail “City of Stars” in the next few days.

And while “La La Land” is weighing so heavily on my mind, I wanted to talk about the film and its implications. Love is a tricky thing — it’s far beyond my coding, calculation and comprehension. So, let’s look at the art instead.

Sebastian wants to play and foster the creation of jazz. Sebastian praises jazz music to Mia and to the audience, citing its utility as a language and creative outlet. We get to see Sebastian play the piano — and he plays it well. It really can’t be argued that Sebastian is not a talented artist. We don’t get this same reassurance with Mia.

Mia wants to be an actress, but we hear Mia speak most passionately about writing. It’s a rather odd disconnect. Nonetheless, she aspires to produce a one-woman show, which is an attempt to culminate the two aspirations. But even when she ultimately produces and premieres the show, we never get to see it. The audience never gets any definitive proof that Mia is a talented artist.

“La La Land” tries to set up this parallel between two artistic media and stumbles. It nails the core engagements of listening to and performing music very well, but it fails to convey the wonderment of writing a story and creating a world. It could be argued that the movie itself is a testament to the joy of a well-written and well-told story, but the movie doesn’t really come off as metatheoretical.

Playing music is nice because it can be a nice parlor trick; you can do it at a party and win a few hearts. Writing a story doesn’t grant you the same luxury, and proficient storytelling requires more than the average parlor trick. Storytelling is a deep and intricate art, and it deserves the same representation as the jazz I love so much.

Michael Smith is a mechanical engineering junior. His column appears on Tuesdays.