It’s 1969, and Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a fading, Western actor, struggling to maintain relevance in a rapidly changing Hollywood. His only friend is his driver, and longtime stunt man, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), a Vietnam vet whom it is heavily implied murdered his wife. The two spend their days driving around LA, getting drunk, watching Rick’s various TV appearances, and debating about whether or not the latter should take an offer to make Spaghetti Westerns in Europe. Meanwhile, Hollywood director Roman Polanski and his wife, Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie), have just moved into the house beside Dalton. Dalton sees in Polanski a chance to become legitimate again, and eagerly tries to get in their good graces. Something that could throw a wrench in his plans, however, is a small, delusional band of Hippies living out in a place called Spawn Ranch, who may or may not be hatching a murder scheme.
Quentin Tarantino, like Wes Anderson, is a director whom it’s very hard to speak about objectively. He has an incredibly loyal fanbase, who will defend any and every thing he does, regardless of how controversial or insensitive it might be. Gratuitously use racial slurs? He’s just being “authentic.” Choke Fergie on the set of Planet Terror, and break Uma Thurman’s leg by forcing her to drive a car into a wall? He’s just trying to get the best performances possible, man. It also doesn’t help that Tarantino is something of an internet troll, regularly mocking people who get offended by his bombastic, lurid style. So anyone who doesn’t like his films could just be written off as an overly sensitive crybaby who “can’t take the truth, ya’ll.” Now, if you’ve read my blog, particularly my reviews of Hateful Eight and Inglorious Bastards, you know I’m not a big fan of his work. His pension for writing reprehensible characters who murder each other in sadistically brutal fashion makes it very hard to enjoy his movies. That said, I’ll happily admit he has talent. He’s got a good ear for dialogue, works well with actors, has a vast knowledge of film and filmmakers, and definitely knows how to create unique cinematic visions. That’s why, whenever he makes a new movie, I’m always both hopeful and nervous. Will he simply make another ultra-violent, juvenile pastiche? Or will he use his considerable talent to create something mature and interesting?
Those were the questions I asked myself when I sat down to watch Once Upon A Time In Hollywood. And now, having seen it, I can say this. With Once Upon A time In Hollywood, Quentin Tarantino has probably made his most mature, most restrained movie yet. It’s also one of his least interesting. Now, let’s start off with the positives. The dialogue and acting are good, as you’d expect. The 60s costumes and set design are colorful and eye popping. And unlike a lot of his other movies, such as Hateful Eight and Inglorious Bastards, I actually liked the characters in this film. They all seemed like pretty decent people. Rick Dalton is lovably pathetic. There’s a great scene where he and his eight-year-old co-star get into a long, philosophical debate about acting, and it was really sweet. Cliff Booth is mostly nice. The film never definitively states whether or not he killed his wife, and there is a scene where he mocks Bruce Lee for his accent and stature. Still, he’s shown to be incredibly loyal to his friends, and to possess a certain moral compass when he refuses to sleep with an underaged hitchhiker. And the film doesn’t have nearly as much violence or profanity as Tarantino’s other flicks.
That said, the movie is incredibly long (161 minutes), and doesn’t really have a plot. Most of it consists of Dalton and Booth driving around, hanging out, and just, well, living. There’s an incredibly lengthy sequence where we see Dalton shoot a TV pilot, and we watch him get into costume, do several takes, and speak with the director. It reminded me of Hail, Caesar, where half the runtime was just elaborate recreations of older movies. The only thing I’d say that makes this movie slightly better than that is the fact that, unlike Hail, Caesar, where there was no danger, and no stakes, people do get hurt and killed in this flick. So there’s some degree of tension. But, honestly, that tension almost arrives too late, as it’s not until after the second hour that the Manson family shows up. Speaking of which, there was some concern over how Sharon Tate and the Manson family murders would be portrayed when this film was first introduced. If you’re worried, don’t be. You never actually see Sharon Tate get killed, since the film, shall we say, takes liberties with history. That said, Sharon Tate herself is basically a non-character. This is her role in the movie. She dances at a party. She dances to some music in her house. She sneaks into the premiere of her own movie. And, finally, she has dinner with her friends. That’s it. She barely speaks. Hell, Bruce Lee, who has a one scene cameo in this flick, has more lines of dialogue. So, yeah. It’s easy to not offend someone when the person in question is barely a factor. What I do find kind of ironic, though, is how no one was concerned with how Bruce Lee was portrayed. In the movie, he’s shown as an arrogant hothead, who isn’t that good at fighting, since Booth is able to kick his ass, and the filmmakers didn’t even consult with his surviving relatives. I know this for a fact, since I met Bruce’s daughter, Shannon, and she confirmed that Tarantino never reached out to her. Weird that people got so upset with the portrayal of one person who died prematurely (Tate) and not with the portrayal of another (Lee). Something else that I noticed watching this movie is how guilty Tarantino’s films are of employing the male gaze. People have joked about how he likes to shoot feet, which is true. What they don’t talk about as much, though, and what I noticed in this film, is how much he loves to shoot women’s backsides. There are several scenes in this movie where women are talking, and the camera is angled in such a way that their butts take up most of the frame. And it’s not just this film. If you go back and look at his other flicks, particularly Death Proof and Kill Bill, he loves to shoot female behinds almost as much as Michael Bay and Brett Ratner. It’s not as obvious as when those other directors do it, but, still. I couldn’t help but notice it.
Guys, all I have to say about the movie is this: it’s Tarantino’s most restrained work. It doesn’t have as much violence, profanity or racial slurs. And the characters are much less morally abhorrent than those in some of his other flicks. At the same time, though, it’s way too long, has next to no plot, and is kind of boring and indulgent. If you like it, good on you. I’m glad you got your money’s worth. As for me, I have no desire to ever see it again. Make of this what you will.
liusviews 