For weeks, multiple people have told me La La Land is incredible, that I must go and see it. My best friend told me wistfully that La La Land had reenforced all her dreams; knowing that she and I are similar in our love for art and music, I went into the theater with very high expectations indeed.

La La Land reminded me of The Artist, actually, in terms of its occasionally whimsical tone and old-timey feel. Soon after the movie began, I thought to myself, "They just don't make movies like this anymore." And it's true — La La Land is a spectacular, original, nostalgic, creative film that is so beautiful. I was embarrassed when the lights came back on because I couldn't stop crying — and I wasn't tearing up because I was sad in the vein of a character dying, or something. True, there were moments that were certainly bittersweet, perhaps sad; but the tears I couldn't control, no matter how hard I tried (I kept telling myself the movie was ending soon so I had to get a grip, to no avail), came because I felt so touched and moved. The music, for example — just hearing it in my head, even now, tugs on my heartstrings and brings some residual moisture to my eyes.

La La Land applies to many things besides pursuing acting dreams and staying true to one's passion for the jazz genre. As I watched, I felt the movie applied very much so, just in general, to being able to make the transition into the modern world. I thought about the necessary transition to online print rather than traditional newspaper or magazine issues, Amazon's growing monopoly on books, classical music's evolution in the way it is marketed. There is so much now that people label as "dying," much as Ryan Gosling's character Sebastian — and as others keep reminding him — says so about jazz.

Furthermore, the conflict between Sebastian and Mia denotes the continually relevant battle between aspiring artists with two opposite viewpoints on how work should be conceived and received. When I first read Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, I was rather enamored with the book, and I thought, perhaps Howard Roark makes sense in an exclusively artistic context. Shouldn't art be conceived for art alone? Why should one care about the public? The majority is so often wrong, after all.

But both sides have a point. Art has the power to influence and bring people together; it has the potential to galvanize people to action through its relatability and relevance to current events. Catering to the general public seems detestable, but Mia, who wishes to be an actress, understands more than anyone how important it is for the public to still play a role in artistic conception.

Besides simply being a well-made film, a kind that simply isn’t made anymore in this day and age (director Damien Chazelle noted that it took years and years and the success of Whiplash for him to finally get the support needed), this is a movie that speaks to anyone who has ever held a lofty dream, anyone who has had a passion. Especially for those who have engaged in the arts — music, visual art, writing — you know what it’s like to go out on a limb, to lay your most private, deeply cherished thoughts and hopes out for inspection by an uncaring, potentially scathing and unthinking audience. You know what it’s like to be so afraid of what other people think, to feel like it’s the most important thing in the world to receive support in the form of validation.

La La Land will reach deep inside you and truly make you feel.