Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

S P O I L E R S

Quentin Tarantino is one of the few directors left whose new films inspire a Christmas morning type of anticipation for me.  An excitement knowing that I am likely going to witness something extraordinary, maybe even historic.  The kind of heat I had for Stanley Kubrick's latest.  QT's output is a bit more prolific, but this summer's ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD is only his tenth film in twenty-seven years.  Yes, I know the tagline says "9th."  Apparently, he counts KILL BILL VOL. 1 & 2 as one feature.  He also ignores DEATH PROOF,  which was originally one half of the ambitious GRINDHOUSE feature he made in 2007 with buddy Robert Rodriguez.

When this project was announced, I, and am sure many others, felt a bit of dread.  How would Tarantino handle a movie about Charles Manson, the notorious ringleader of a group of murderous hippies?  Knowing the director's rather elaborate and liberal use of violence, I conjured unwatchable visions of the horrible deaths of actress Sharon Tate and her friends.  A crime for which the overused expression "I have no words" is apt.  Would Quentin create some sick, depraved recount? I almost believed it for a time.  But then I remembered INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS.  Namely, its historical revisionism.  A wish fulfillment fantasy where history was rewritten with the sort of justice that doesn't always come to pass.  This paragraph could possibly serve as a spoiler to ONCE UPON A TIME....You may take some comfort in that if you have concerns about this movie.

The film has been described as a love letter to Hollywood.  To the men, women, and children who created magic on theater and television screens.  I agree, but this is also a lament.  An acknowledgement of a dying dream.  Of reality brutally shaking down the dream factory.  That's what truly happened in August of 1969, when Manson's cultists killed a pregnant Tate, who was married to director Roman Polanski and beginning to get some notice for her film roles.

For the most part, anyway.  Tate (Margot Robbie, perfectly cast) wanders into a matinee for the Matt Helm adventure THE WRECKING CREW and watches herself with abandon, drunk also on the favorable response of the audience.  An antidote of sorts to the box office girl and theater manager who couldn't quite place her at first.  This scene really gets to the heart of Quentin's movie.

But the movie also follows Rick Dalton (Leo DiCaprio), a once celebrated hero of T.V. Westerns, now reduced to guest starring as the heavy on other shows.  One can only dine out on the past for so long.  Good thing he still has his stunt double Cliff (Brad Pitt) by his side as colleague and friend.  Dalton is tormented by his fading celebrity, his increasing feeling of irrelevance.  Cliff is a satisfied man with few ambitions, happy to live in a trailer (near a drive-in theater, of course) with his faithful dog Mandy, who was very impressive in this movie.

So are DiCaprio and Pitt.  Some of their best work, in my opinion. They really are like Newman and Redford.  Their relationship is treated realistically and tenderly, and those are valid descriptions of Quentin's film.  It is his most personal and heartfelt to date.  Yes, for the love of pop culture, but also the souls who create it.  The director may be feeling out of touch himself in a Hollywood dominated by superhero franchises and the like, but it happens to everyone eventually, he argues.  Having those creepy Manson girls hovering like hungry zombies is an effective metaphor.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD is long, generally somber, and deliberately paced.  If you are not fascinated by the time period, Los Angeles, and the Industry you may get antsy.  I adored the film.  The very lengthy sequence during which Rick acts on a show with James Stacy (Timothy Olyphant) will seem protracted and pointless to many viewers.  I think it gives as good a character analysis of Rick Dalton as is humanly possible.  I was mesmerized.

Quentin went all out to recreate the 1969 setting.  It's quite stunning.  He uses the all the right props: the music, the one sheets, the radio programs and commercials, to evoke it all.  Bruce Lee and Steve McQueen (Mike Moh and Damian Lewis, respectively) have bits.  Tarantino's recreations of what T.V. shows and their promos looked like is also impressive.  But his melancholy observations, ultimately quite hopeful, are what makes this pretty great for me.  The film shares more with the tone and flow (and maturity) of JACKIE BROWN than INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS and many of the others.   Except for the revisionism I spoke of.  Be aware that the climax here is another show stopping barrage of incredible carnage, but if you're complaining about it intrinsically (or charging it with misogyny) you've totally missed the point.  I thought it was perfect in so many ways.  Maybe you just need to avert your eyes for a minute.   An artist is making things right, for the love of art, in his own art.  Even if real life did otherwise.

That very last scene is wonderful.  If this truly is QT's screen bow, I can't think of a better send off.  This picture may be the least cynical of his cannon.  Bravo.