Directed by: Bradley Cooper
Starring: Lady Gaga, Bradley Cooper, Rafi Gavron, Sam Elliott
Rated R, 136 minutes
Outside of superhero movies, Hollywood remakes are rare, yet “A Star Is Born” keeps coming back. Bradley Cooper’s (“Silver Linings Playbook”) directorial debut is the fourth iteration of the film, and like anything repeatedly remade, it has a timelessness to it that suggests this also won’t be the last version. At the same time, Cooper’s version is unquestionably of this specific moment, filled with current pop culture references that would have made no sense in the last remake, in 1976, and which will likely be irrelevant when the next version comes along.
In a way, this approach is appropriate; as a tale of art and celebrity, the film is focused on transience. When the film opens, Jackson Maine (Cooper) is in his prime, a country-rock singer playing to festival crowds that extend as far as the eye can see, while the woman who eventually captures his heart, Ally (singer Lady Gaga), is a waitress performing covers at a drag club. Coincidence brings them together, but a romance soon blossoms between them, fed by their mutual passion for music.
Their happiness is fleeting. Jack’s personal demons—his difficult upbringing, his substance abuse problems—rouse themselves repeatedly and with an increasing intensity that not only threatens his relationship with Ally, but also takes a significant toll on Jack’s own well-being. And while Jack, now getting sidelined for younger acts, finds his fame in decline, Ally’s star is steadily rising, with a slick British manager and Grammy nominations and an “SNL” appearance. When Jack proposes to Ally, it’s an apology for going on a bender and missing her first solo show; he sheepishly fashions the ring out of a guitar string.
The most striking success of “A Star Is Born” is that its portrayal of such a couple isn’t uncomfortable. After all, here in the midst of the #MeToo movement is a film that begins with a celebrity inviting himself into a young woman’s life, who pressures her into situations she’s not ready for, who falls in love with her long before she returns the feeling, who complains when she eventually turns out to be a different artist from the one he envisioned. And the movie expects us to believe that Ally would stay by his side.
This would seem like a craven and gratuitous fantasy of the entitlement of famous men, if not for the movie’s lead performances. Lady Gaga imbues Ally with clear-eyed self-respect, her confidence and ambition and raw talent in every way Jack’s match, even if he’s the one starting out on higher ground. And Cooper’s Jack, despite his various problems, is still conscious and respectful of Ally’s abilities. The two are presented as equals, powerfully pulling and pushing each other toward greatness, while the natural chemistry between Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper is more than enough to keep us close, even after the movie marches well past the two-hour mark.
The movie also benefits from an excellent script, co-written by Cooper with Eric Roth (“Forrest Gump”) and Will Fetters (“Remember Me”). In their hands, larger-than-life characters still live on Earth; they curse, they ramble, they apologize, they forgive. If nothing else, “A Star Is Born” displays an unusual maturity and nuance in its portrayals of relationships, whether it’s the romance at the movie’s core, the families offering support, or the professional relationships that come in and out of Jack and Ally’s lives. Rare is the movie that paints such a prismatic picture of its characters.
As one character says late in the film, all music under the sun is made from the same twelve notes that repeat themselves one octave after another; the only distinction between musicians is how they use those notes. The line shows a comfortable awareness of the film’s place in its own lineage, but it also speaks to how movies entertain and instruct us in general. Because movies are also made up of discrete parts; everything you’ve ever seen on-screen has been placed there on purpose. What distinguishes directors and movies is simply the way those decisions are made. To remind the viewer of this is an ambitious, even cocky, thing to do at the end of his directorial debut, but all credit to Cooper—the sentiment, as with the rest of the film’s impact, is well earned.
Originally published in The Harvard Press on 10/26/18.