What an over-rated film. The opening sequence on the L.A. freeway was nearly unbearable with its artificial, Politically Correct nonsensical 'this is L.A.' vibe. I'd say the only fun thing to watch in this film was Ryan Gosling. He really does justice to well-fitting clothes, he must have a perfect body. Emma Stone was fish-like to me, her bulbous eyes like a flounder in the beautiful briny deep. The director deserves credit for trying to make romance happen in the digital age, but in general, it's too late: everyone in privileged America is pretty much a soul-less zombie drone driving a Prius and numbly staring into the glow of their iPhone. In a fantasy world where people dance and sing, only Gene Kelly, Stanley Donen and Jacques Demy could do that possibility justice. Don't believe the hype, this movie is flat, dull, wishful thinking for a bygone era. It will sweep awards, no doubt, because, in a soul-less 21st Century, this film is the closest anything released by a mainstream film industry will have resembling 'heart.' A flounder Dead On Arrival, wrapped in pretty yellow paper, in my humble opinion. Two stars for Ryan's well-fitting pants and tight shirts.