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No matter what you think about Lady Gaga (born Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta), it should be a relief to hear that the dynamism of Bradley Cooper A star is born is not Gaga Land. The lady is very down-to-earth and component. Discovered by Jackson Maine (Cooper), a country-and-western star after inadvertently stumbling into a dragons bar in search of more alcohol and watching him turn the "Life into a Rose" In the most sultane ballads, the ally of Gaga accepts his attention with a mixture of infatuation and mistrust.
He's a drunk man, like his father (Andrew Dice Clay!), And also incredibly famous, that his father always pushed him to be despite the agents and managers who told him that his nose was too big. Yes, you read it well. Lady Gaga triumphs as a young woman opposed to artifice and the quest for glory. It's a magical act.
The first half of A star is born could not be more charming. This leaves the previous three versions in the dust in the meet-cute department, largely because Gaga manages to be cooler and more likely than Janet Gaynor, Judy Garland (who seemed to have dissipated) and Barbra Streisand. And Cooper is delicious. Although he is largely hidden behind a beard, long hair and strabismus, his purring bass baritone is to die for. The fact that it's stolen from Sam Elliott makes it even more fun when Elliott introduces himself as Jackson's much older brother and accuses him of stealing his voice. Scenes that should make you groan like gangbusters, including one in which Jackson brings Ally on stage in front of a crowded arena to sing a song of hers that he once heard but that he can reproduce from memory. (The group begins timidly then begins to nod – Hey, that's good – when they see his talent.) Cooper's direction is so close and so intimate – his portable camera, at the height of the characters – that you have to make the sequence work. It would be bad if it was not the case.
Maybe your fondness for the first half will even take you through a much less important second, but the story remains schmaltz, and Cooper and co-writers Eric Roth and Will Fetters have not rethought it since American idol, when a large part of the star making apparatus is dedicated to making celebrities closer to us mortals. There is no satire, nothing now distinguishes the musical celebrity of the 30s, 50s or 70s. Worse still, the ally of Gaga loses all its power. Manipulated by a cynical British manager called Rez (Rafi Gavron), who is probably supposed to evoke Simon Cowell, she settles in a middle groove when you want to see a Gaga-type supernova. Above all, she suffers nicely.
Cooper kills in later scenes as he struggles with sobriety and tinnitus that worsens. It does not jerk your tears – it relieves them until you suddenly realize that you are a mess. But that's A star is born for a time when alcoholism is a "disease" and unless Maine is at least partly a heel – a jealous sonuvabitch – the story has no melodramatic pulse. Most audiences, however, will not be concerned because they will have a glimpse of the soul under the meat dress and will want to see Gaga at the Oscars as much as they want to see Ally at the Grammys.
* A version of this article was published in the October 1, 2018 issue New York Magazine. Subscribe now!
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