Sunday, August 4, 2019

"Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" - review



A fever dream of overheated nostalgia

I've usually enjoyed Quentin Tarantino's work, even when his later films started to extend their running times beyond the limits of my patience and my bladder.  Writers love to hear themselves talk, and I have always been willing to forgive such self-indulgence if the overall experience was worth it.  This has largely been the case until "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood."  This 9th Tarantino film is far too long for its own good, and I really felt it dragging at multiple points throughout.  Quentin!  Cut it!  Let's MOVE ALONG, pardner!


I also had a problem going in because I'm not enamored with either of the lead actors.  For me, Brad Pitt's dramatic roles are all of a very similar piece.  I feel that they lack dimension and range.  However, when Pitt takes on a comedic role, he channels a childish, manic persona that is as delightful as it is whimsical.  Leonardo DiCaprio gave similarly energized performances as a younger man, but as an adult I find his acting to be theatrically exaggerated.  I feel like I'm watching DiCaprio act instead of being the character, as if he's self-conscious about his performance and winking at the audience for approval.


Perhaps DiCaprio's recent Best Actor Oscar has calmed him down a bit because in "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" he turns in a fine performance as Rick Dalton, a washed-up Western villain trying to resurrect his flagging career.  Brad Pitt plays Cliff Booth, a quiet, veteran stuntman who works solely for Dalton.  Together, their bromance provides an endearing and welcome balance to the usual Tinseltown seediness through which both must navigate.  Dalton's self-doubt and desperation is well-done without feeling pitiable, while Booth's streetwise urban cowboy is funny and witty without seeming like a too-cool quip machine.


Additionally, because both characters are fictional, there is more room for creative invention since the style of Dalton and Booth's story leans heavily into the ample satirical possibilities of an industry pervasive with venality and treachery.  Their symbiotic relationship and fluctuating fortunes provide plenty of dramatic heft and interest to make the entire film feel whole and satisfying.  Unfortunately, this makes the inclusion of the Sharon Tate and Manson family storylines feel largely unnecessary.



While these three stories do overlap at several points throughout the film, the Sharon Tate and Manson family sequences don't mesh nearly as well mainly because they're too long.  The characters are hastily sketched and more crucially, their threads aren't strongly woven around the struggles of Dalton and Booth.  It takes over two hours to get to the last act, and as the vast majority of that time is still spent on Dalton and Booth's misadventures, this overshadows the other two stories such that their intersection at the end feels coincidental rather than fateful.


I believe that this is intentional, but it also has the effect of lessening the sense of importance in the Sharon Tate and Manson family portions of the film, especially since you can't change those stories because they're actually based on fact, right?  Well, I can't say more except that while I was quite grateful for the final "twist" feeling somewhat rewarding despite the slog to get there, it was ultimately too little too late.  I anticipated a horrifically gory and unpleasant ending, and instead was given something slightly different.  It was a nice surprise, but the prolonged unwrapping was enervating to the point of actual boredom.




The production, costume and set design are superlative and detailed without being distracting.  The cinematography is also top-notch and combined with the aforementioned practical effects, the film becomes a sumptuous feast of the color-drenched landscape and intoxicating hippie culture that was still exploding in late sixties Los Angeles.  As usual, Tarantino's musical choices are unconventional but still perfectly align with the moods and themes of the individual scenes.  Quentin just needs an editor who will apply the same brutality to his extended running times as he does to the hyperkinetic violence which he adores.

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