The remarkable opening act of A STAR IS BORN is a breathtaking depiction of the rush and the privilege and the miracle and the wonder of being a rock star, as seen through the eyes of two very different people experiencing the rush and the privilege and the miracle and the wonder of falling in love. That opening, writes the MUSE's RICH JUZWIAK, "feels as immersive of an experience as any rock musical has since THE ROSE." It takes place during a whirlwind 24 hours in which the action moves from stage to limo to drag bar (the only one in America where a 40something country-rock star would be immediately recognized by everyone inside) to convenience store to crowded suburban house to private plane and back to stage, by which time you may well be swooning. LADY GAGA is great, the song that turns her character into a star is damn good, and BRADLEY COOPER is the best hirsute, alcoholic, aging singer-songwriter Hollywood has put on the big screen since JEFF BRIDGES in CRAZY HEART. And then the movie continues for another two hours, and you needn't have seen any of the previous versions of the movie to know where it's headed. We soon meet a slimy, manipulative manager, played by RAFI GAVRON, whose job is to move the plot along while also trying to convince you that pop music, unlike rock and country, is an innately unfit medium for expressing one's truth, and will, absent the intervention of an authentic, truth-telling rock and roller, probably destroy you. It's an argument that misunderstands both what pop music can be (Lady Gaga, who's been using pop to express herself wonderfully for a decade, knows something about this) and what pop music is ("SHALLOW," the allegedly-not-pop song that sets the movie's plot in motion, sounds like it could be a current pop hit and is in the process of actually becoming one). Performing with orange hair, dancers and electronic beats, in the movie's world, means you don't have anything to say, no matter how much effort you put into it, while performing with your natural hair, an electric guitar and a denim shirt means you do, no matter how much alcohol you put into it. Also: Singing about butts is bad and not singing about butts is good. Which is one million percent provably wrong. It's possible, if you want to be optimistic about a sad, pessimistic movie, to read the ending as Cooper's character—and perhaps Cooper himself—coming to horrible grips with the idea that he's been wrong all along. Unlikely but possible. It's a good movie, by the way, though probably not a great one. And you should go for the popcorn, not the pop... TAYLOR SWIFT—wow—makes a political endorsement. Two in fact... Musicians really, really, really aren't into Brexit... GREEN DAY is really into October... T.I. says he once saved SCOTT STAPP's life... RIP HAMIET BLUIETT, MONTSERRAT CABALLÉ, JOHN WICKS and MICHAEL PANICO.