La La Land.
As this film progressed I steadily became angry, a fantasy film of candy floss nostalgia, a utopia written by Hollywood for Hollywood, with all the self-referencing and self-reverence that might suggest. But the treatment of Jazz in particular, the appropriation of visual and musical elements associated with Jazz - as a marker of 'cool' or 'alternative' (including the use of vinyl and cassette tape) - whilst still featuring a dialogue by John Legend (Mr Jazz himself, right?) arguing for Jazz to be revolutionary and not die - was sickening. And this is a film in which Jazz remains largely absent - and for that matter - so are black people.
A vacuous shit heap of a film.