[6.1/10] Is fair to criticize a remake for being rote? It seems a little churlish to complain that a retelling of a well-known story comes off as derivative and unoriginal. Obviously 2018’s version of *A Star Is Born* is pulling from its predecessors and plenty of other the other cultural flotsam in how we do movies about musicians in this day and age. But suffice it to say, even if you haven’t seen one of *A Star Is Born*’s many predecessors before, you’ve probably seen this same basic story ten times over.

The film tells the tale of Jackson Maine, a weathered rock-and-roll-with-soul type who’s half Bruce Springsteen and half Eddie Vedder, and Ally the drag show performer he plucks from obscurity and brings into his romantic life and the world of professional music. As you may have guessed from the title, Ally shines and her career takes off at the same time her relationship with Jackson is blooming, but shockingly, jealousy and alcoholism not only cause friction between the two leads but start to drag Jackson down at the same time Ally finds herself on the crest of stardom.

The film is pretty hackneyed from the jump. It hits every cliché from musical biopics and other thinly-veiled showbiz substitutes early and often. Jackson is a mess who’s lost the stuff, but the spark of this random relationship helps to both save him and give his music a shot in the arm. Ally is timid and full of self-doubt, but with encouragement and support and assurances that she’s pretty, finds that confidence and it-factor that lets her talent blossom. And along the way, there’s evil managers, ponderous exchanges about truth in art, and tired tropes about the pitfalls of fame and fortune. There is nothing new in the substance here, just reheated leftovers from the scores of films about performers that came before.

But there’s something to the style of the film which helps distinguish it a little, which is the bare minimum you can ask for from remake number four. There’s a committed attempt at naturalism in places. The film can’t always sustain the energy, but there’s a mumblecore-mixed-with-cheese quality to most of the dialogue that at least gives the viewer the sense that hey, maybe people in the music biz are just that rambling and “I’m 14 and this is deep” when they talk. The movie doesn't always pull it off (and the script does it no favors), but I at least admire the attempt to make the character sound like real people even if they can’t seem like real people.

The film’s also well made from visual standpoint, with alternating scenes of people lit low in the dark of night owl bars and evening concerts, and characters backed with brightness in more natural, sun-kissed settings that represent the pull of the superficial world Ally and Jack occupy and the realer places away from it.

Still, the core of the movie is dull and unconvincing. I’ll concede that watching this film on the same day a number of women have spoken out about Ryan Adams taking an interest in their careers when they were young and tying his support to obsessive and exploitive relationships dampened my enthusiasm for the already suspect romance at the center of the film, which takes the same shape.

But separate from that metatextual issue, it’s hard to be invested in the core relationship that the rest of the film is built on. The premise of the film seems to be that Jackson recognizes some spark in Ally, and that Ally recognizes some wounded humanity in Jackson, and that this mutual recognition allows the pair to connect as artists and human beings. But both qualities are unconvincing for most of the film’s runtime, and however cute or relatable the film strains to make their interactions, they never rise above seeming like a couple who love each other instantly and enduringly mostly because the film needs them too.

It’s particularly difficult because so much of *A Star Is Born* is built on the idea that Jackson has this truth-telling insight, that Ally has this irrepressible stardom within her, and that it comes through in the music they make and the songs they create. The big problem is that those songs -- the showpieces of the film -- are trite nonsense. Lady Gaga obviously has a lovely voice, and Bradley Cooper slurs his way through a back-of-the-throat drawl well enough, but these sterling reflections of their pure and wounded souls come off like shallow navel-gazing without a whit of insight or inspiration. When the things that are supposed to not only signify your characters’ transcendent abilities, but what’s within their hearts, fall flat, there’s not a lot you can do to make up for it, especially when your movie is a kinda sorta musical.

Oddly enough, for all the star wattage in the film, the strongest interludes of the movie come from the supporting characters. Lady Gaga acquits herself well in a role that seems tailor made for her, and Bradley Cooper shows off his chops when he loosens up on the “Tim Riggins with a guitar” vibe. But Sam Elliott quietly steals the show with minimal screen time as Jackson’s brother with whom he has a complicated relationship, and Dave Chapelle of all people (who knows a thing or two about having a complicated relationship with fame and show business) gives a hell of a dramatic performance as Jackson’s advice-giving old friend.

It’s no coincidence that these brighter moments tend to come when the movie slows down. One of the biggest issues with *A Star Is Born* is that it barrels through plot points, with Ally’s rise, Jackson’s fall, and the pair’s meeting and romance all happening so quickly that none of it has any time to breathe or land. Charitably, you could attribute that to trying to create an atmosphere of the whirlwind way success comes and goes, but the effect is that it’s hard to latch onto anything that happens in the film. Only in the film’s last twenty minutes or so, when it dispenses with the up-and-down narrative and faux-profound exposition and focuses on the quieter effects on its characters, does the film start to feel like something more than yet another deep-as-a-thimble quasi-musical biopic.

By then, however, it’s too little too late. At the end of the day, *A Star Is Born* is fine. It’s well-made, often well-acted, and competently hits the expected beats with a few new wrinkles here and there. The problem is that, like its characters, the film seems to be convinced that it is burdened by the heavens with the need to Say Something™, with all the self-seriousness that comes with that would-be grand purpose. And yet, like the supposedly profound and soul-imbued songs its main characters sing, the end result comes off like high-grade, unaffecting hackwork. Fair or not, you’ve heard this tune before, and this rendition plays like it thinks it’s at the Grammys when it’s really just doing karaoke.