La La Land was a magical, all-encompassing love letter to the Golden Age of Hollywood movies. The break-neck world of auditions and authenticity and romance and dancing. An all-dancing, all-singing, heart-stopping extravaganza; one perfectly wonderful bow to the days of sun-drenched boulevards, soaring, glistening jazz numbers and brightly coloured, twirling dresses and tap shoes.

From the moment I saw the trailer several months ago, I knew this would be a film for me. I adore musicals of any kind, but find that nothing quite beats the beauty of the old-school classics: the likes of Singin’ in the Rain, Funny Girl, Meet Me in Saint Louis and more…

This film truly captures that fondly nostalgic, sparkling spirit and successfully imprints it upon present-day Los Angeles. Across the plum-coloured sunrise, a low-lighted jazz bar and amongst a sprawling, typically LA traffic jam, Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone work their deliberately casual, twinkling magic.

And my, oh my, is it magic. It feels like returning home to something you hadn’t even realised was missing; like watching a movie you realise was just waiting to be made. The nostalgia is almost heartbreaking. There is a subtle, ingrained sadness, even to all the joy. Most reviews I have seen talk of the heart-filling, ecstatic, smile-bringing happiness that encompasses the whole movie, but in actual fact, to me, it wasn’t so uplifting. I loved, loved, loved it. But part of what I loved about it was how it deliberately created a manic, unhappy undercurrent, even within the first scene. There is a repetitiveness, a mania to the dancing and the noise of ‘Another Day of Sun’ that heavily hints at the ruthless ambitiousness of Hollywood: true success comes at a cost to most, especially in La La Land.

All that Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) and Mia (Emma Stone) need is an opportunity. That one opportunity that will thrust them into the spotlight. That will make all the hard days, the rejected auditions, the meaningless jobs worth it. What they find, however, is each other. What starts off as a stunning, quietly magical boy meets girl story, ultimately does not end in happy ever after. The ending of the movie is tinged with extreme bittersweet regret and nostalgia, the likes of which had been building the entire film.

Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling’s performances are what make this story so spectacular. Mia, struggling through every single audition and becoming tired and frustrated at the lack of acknowledgement for her talents, is played so flawlessly by Emma, because Emma really is so good. Her ability to cry on tap, sing in a voice that is throaty, and not brilliant, but brings tears to your eyes and grief to your heart, even in a stone cold audition room – that is talent. The dancing also is not brilliant, but that does not matter. I realised that it is meant to be imperfect, like everything in the movie. There is supposed to be a deliberate casualness, a spontaneity that appears almost natural, genuine, effortless – and it works so well. The use of bright, sorbet-like, primary colours is also genius: the most average of scenes is made to look visually magificent. The whole of LA becomes a gorgeous, cinematic masterpiece similar to the likes of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg.

Once you’ve waltzed and tap-danced through the stars – as Mia and Sebastian very well do in an unabashedly beautiful gravity-defying fantasia – the only way is down.

Everyone in La La Land is wrestling, struggling with ambition. The film somehow manages to create a feeling in the viewer that at once fills your heart, and also makes you feel incredibly sad. In the most outlandish act of the story, the super-extravagant big finish in the brilliant, hat-tipping style of An American in Paris’s dream ballet, the movie merges into something gorgeously dream-like, but euphorically bittersweet. La La Land is a story of conflicts, and contradictions. But whether you believe it to be happy or sad, you will no doubt leave the cinema with a tear-stained face, a song in your heart, and a tap-dancing sparkle in your step.