Director Report Card: Quentin Tarantino (2019)

9. Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood

In the year 2019, Quentin Tarantino was still, somehow, a controversial filmmaker. Of course, the reasons for why have shifted along with our general cultural woes. The violence in his movies is shrug worthy and the use of racial epitaphs is begrudgingly accepted. Instead, the fallout of Harvey Weinstein's #MeToo moment wouldn't leave Tarantino totally unaffected. Mostly, it's was news that his latest movie, “Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood,” was going to grapple with the historical death of Sharon Tate by the infamous Manson Family that caused concern. The film was even originally intended to be released on the 50th anniversary of the killings. There was plenty of worry that the famously acerbic filmmaker might not handle this real life tragedy with the amount of sensitivity it deserves. While these controversies, among others, have continued to follow the film to some degree, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” has largely been enthusiastically received by most critics, fans, and filmgoers.

Rick Dalton once had a hit TV show, starring on popular western “Bounty Law.” But now it's 1969 and the only thing he has to look forward to is a revolving door of guest spots on shows starring younger, hotter, more upwardly mobile actors. His ego takes its greatest hit when his agent suggest he star in Italian films, which Rick thinks of as hitting rock bottom. Mostly, Rick spends his days drinking too much, hanging out with his best buddy and former stuntman Cliff, and preparing for the next guest spot... And lusting after the life of glamour and success his new next door neighbors, Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate, experience. Unbeknownst to Rick and Cliff, a sinister family has plans of their own for the Polanski household, history the two men will be wrapped up in.

From the fairy tale-evoking title on down, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is a film awash in memories and fantasies. The film takes us inside its protagonists' heads on more than one occasion. We see Cliff's recollection of the events leading up to his wife's death or how a fight with Bruce Lee got him fired from a stunt gig... And these memories clearly favor his side of things, in the way memories tend to. There are flashbacks within flashbacks. When it's mentioned to Rick Dalton that he nearly got the Steve McQueen part in “The Great Escape,” we are treated to a fantasy sequence depicting him in that role, created by seamlessly inserting Leonardo DiCaprio into the classic film. Tarantino then directly draws a line between these mental imaginings with movies – both the ones that actually exist and the ones that were created for this film – by shooting them in a similar style. Because movies reflect our dreams and aspirations too, making “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” the latest in Tarnatino's lines of films about the power of films.

This dream-like, nostalgic approach extends to the way the movie is shot. Tarantino often shoots from a heavenly angle, looking down on his characters in the distance. During a lengthy visit to the Playboy Mansion, we often assume the perspective of an outsider (who just happens to be Steve McQueen) looking in at these young, beautiful people living it up. Rick himself is sometimes that outsider too, admiring the Polanski/Tate household from afar. This is even evident in the voyeuristic moments of Cliff admiring the comely hippy chicks from his car seat. Or the Manson Family spying on people from afar. The visual language of “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is that of a memory, something recalled but not actually happening right now. It becomes especially dream-like in the final moments, when Rick finally receives the acceptance he's been longing for and ascends up into Hollywood heaven. What could be more fitting for a nostalgic love letter to a bygone era?

Tarantino comes in close on his performers often, of course. Most importantly, he fills the screen with his actors' faces and bodies (And, of course, their feet. Because “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is a film hopelessly defined by its director's fetishes.) when they are in an important act: Watching movies and television. A key sequence involves Sharon Tate going to see herself in the Dean Martin/Matt Helm flick, “The Wrecking Crew.” We see the joy on her face as she experiences the dream of seeing herself up on that big, glowing screen. She watches the audience as much as she watches herself, getting high on the joy she feels from their joy at enjoying her. Later, we see Rick and Cliff enact a smaller screen version of this, as they watch Rick on “The F.B.I.” at home. They ideally chit-chat as they watch, the audience becoming privy to their casual thoughts. If these movies and TV shows are dreams, projected big or small, there's nothing more surreal or fulfilling than watching them come to life.

And, sometimes, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” lets us live that dream too. The film often takes us inside the cinematic world. We see the grindhouse war flick Rick stars in, with its shaky camera work and crash-zooms. The brief glimpses we get at “Bounty Law,” in clean black-and-white with sanitary angles, is a perfect recreation of shows like “The Rifleman” or “Wanted: Dead or Alive.” During his guest role as a villain-of-the-week on a new western, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” adopts its most cinematic feeling. Honestly, the intimate angles, atmospheric lighting, and slowly prowling camera movements seem uncharacteristic for late sixties television.   Clearly, this is how Rick is experiencing this challenging shoot: As an elaborate and intense event.

As much as “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is a story of fame and the magic of movies, it is also a self-reflective commentary on the modern world. Rick and Cliff are two toxic men struggling with their upcoming obsolescence. Cliff probably killed his ex-wife, the kind of Hollywood gossip you imagine a fanboy like Tarantino lives for. Rick, meanwhile, heaps scorn on hippies. The world is changing and both men can feel it in their bones. They know they'll have no place in the reorganizing universe. This anxiety is mirrored in the story, where the legendary bro-mance Rick and Cliff share is soon coming-to-an-end as well. It's the end of the sixties too, the impending Manson murders representing a national shift-of-perspective too. Ultimately, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is a last hurrah for this kind of outdated perspective, giving the tough guys – endearing but screwed-up – one last chance to be heroes before the world changes forever. The future belongs to little Trudi Fraser, with her method acting, not to burned-out dudes like Rick Dalton.

But, more than any of that, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is an intentionally shaggy hang-out movie. Long stretches of the film are devoted to just watching Rick and Cliff go about their days. There are long scenes of Cliff driving his car, weaving in and out of traffic. We watch him go about his business in his trailer home, stirring up some mac-n-cheese and feeding his dog. (A delightful dog, a beautiful pitbull named Brandy that is a very good girl indeed.) We see Rick mix up drinks and hang out in his pool. We are privy to their light-hearted conversation as they hang out and drink too much. And, ya know what? It's totally engrossing. Tarantino's movies have always luxuriated in spending time with his characters, always enjoyed their company. Now, he's made a movie largely devoted to just that. And, being a master of dialogue and crafting finely detailed worlds, it's absolutely captivating.

That detail is important. The world of “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is just as invented as the samurai movie/comic book playground of “Kill Bill” or the blaxploitation-influenced western universe of “Django Unchained.” Only this time, Tarantino is building an entire world on the pop culture ephemera of the late sixties. The director's specifically chosen soundtrack this time ushers largely from the radios and record players the characters listen to throughout their day. And it's not just music either, as we hear radio spots and advertisements over the airwaves too. Movie posters, real and invented, pepper the background. Magazine covers, commercial artwork, TV episodes and intros, and architectures of movie theaters and fast food restaurants fill the film. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” builds an entire universe around the most forgotten pieces of the past. This creation even extends into the end credits, when we see Rick Dalton cut a promo for Tarantino's fictional Red Apple cigarette brand or hear real radio spots from back in the day over the credits.

It's not just a world of idyll pleasures. There's a quiet sense of tension rumbling under the surface all throughout “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.” As soon as the Manson Family is introduced, the audience feels ill at ease. We, as outside observers well aware of history, know exactly what their presence means. The camera work becomes askew as we see them dumpster-diving. Later, this tension boils up to the surface as Cliff visits the infamous Spahn Ranch. In a drawn out sequence, we feel the sense of danger grow and grow as Cliff roams through the isolated area, surrounded by people we know are capable of harming him... Which he proceeds to make more nervous, more agitated. At that point, the tension becomes almost unbearable. The filmmaker knowingly uses our knowledge of history against us, ramping up the tension to create a splintering mini-thriller in the middle of his Hollywood hang-out movie.

Of course, the swerve is coming. Tarantino is, after all, the director that killed Hitler at the end of his World War II epic. We can assume that some twist, some sting in the scorpion's tail, is coming concerning the infamous Manson Family murders. Yet the sheer irrelevant ferocity with which “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” attacks the facts is delightfully startling. In its last third, the film shifts into an act of alternative history, Tex, Sadie, and Katie deciding to target Rick Dalton instead. From there, the film explodes into a hysterical shock comedy, deploying increasingly violent – outrageous, gory, cartoonish – retribution against the real life murderers. The camera spins in frenzied ways, the soundtrack swells, and the audience is encouraged to hoot and cheer as the good guys, who really aren't all that good, rain glorious, holy hellfire down on the historical villains. It's amazing.

Tarantino's frenzied fictional payback on real life killers has a deeper purpose, other than providing a giddily joyful conclusion to his movie. Having Cliff Booth and Rick Dalton pay evil onto evil with the Manson Family isn't just an amusingly childish act of fictionalized wish fulfillment. Tarantino is re-writing history and giving us the better version of reality. When a still tripping balls Cliff recounts events to the police, he mangles Tex Watson's infamous “I am the Devil” line. Thus, in the world of the film, nobody remembers the Manson Family (attempted) murderers. The killers are denied their infamy, their cultural legacy. The power is taken away from them. If movies are dreams, and this movie is a dream too, then we get to experience the happy ending that reality denied us. (This approach is also evident in the way Tarantino gives Manson himself only a minor role, the cult leader appearing in one brief scene. The film is not interested in adding to the pop culture cult of Charles Manson.)

After “Django Unchained,” Leonardo DiCaprio is now an established part of Tarantino's troupe of actors, which he even refers to as “The Gang” in the end credits. (That Leo is a genuine star that can get movies greenlit probably doesn't hurt.) If Calvin Candy was a childish fraud hiding behind a carefully cultivated image of power, Rick Dalton's true persona is not so easily hidden. He shows a clear stutter during every day conversation. He meticulously memorizes his lines in order to cover up the condition while filming. During his daily life, his insecurities are more evident. He's a neurotic mess, drinking way too much and always puffing cigarettes in an attempt to dull the pain he feels every day. This doesn't do much to keep his discomfort with his own imperfections from boiling over, such as in the volatile meltdown in his trailer after forgetting his lines on-set. Dalton spends the whole movie looking for acceptance, for that fleeting feeling of satisfaction. DiCaprio brilliantly inhabits every twitch and squint, sacrificing all his movie star glamour in the part of an almost has-been struggling to maintain his self-imposed dignity.

As electric as DiCaprio is, the film's most impressive performance is from Brad Pitt as Cliff Booth. Cliff is not a good man, his macho bravado and casual attitude towards murder clearly painting him as the worst of what the film's heroes represent. (That Cliff killed his wife and then delivers extreme violence against women in the movie's climax is pretty clearly QT deliberately fucking with our moral compass.) He's also kind of a loser, a tough guy reduced to his more famous friend's errand boy. Despite, or maybe because of that, Brad Pitt is called in to deliver all his charm. And, boy, does he succeed. Looking like a sun-baked god, Pitt works all his movie star charm to create a character you truly want to hang out with. Cliff might be a good ol' boy scumbag but you also bet he's a lot of fun. Pitt's laconic, smooth appeal is directly responsible for that.

The two lead an extraordinary cast, of course. Margot Robbie's lack of dialogue as Sharon Tate was much contested at the time of release, though ultimately a silly issue. Robbie is the film's source of light, playing Tate as an effervescent angel that makes every room she walks into brighter. No wonder several of the film's characters are in varying shades of love with her. Margaret Qualley is enticing in a whole different way as Pussycat, the Masonite that nearly seduces Cliff. A ball of manic, sexual, and ultimately unhinged energy, she is probably the film's best discovery. Al Pacino gets a colorful bit part as the enthusiastic agent attempting to rescue Dalton's career. The film is peppered with icons of the time, with Mike Moh's pitch perfect impersonation of Bruce Lee being the most notable. When not doing that, Tarantino peppers the cast with his favorite performers and cult icons, filling the margins with Kurt Russell, Luke Perry, Zoe Bell, Michael Madsen, James Remar, Martin Kove, Bruce Dern and Danielle Harris. (And, in an oddball in-joke either about the film's themes of a new generation replacing the old or its atmosphere of Hollywood legacy, a number of children of famous performers are present. Rumer Willis, Maya Hawke, and Harley Quinn Smith all have bit parts.)

In other words, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” is a triumph. It is not Tarantino's most energetic, touching, powerful, or exhilarating film. However, it is surely among the director's most likable. Another love letter to cinema from that great lover of cinema, the film is a richly constructed story full of lovable characters that the audience can't wait to spend more time with. Though it would weather its own controversy – the accuracy of the depiction of Bruce Lee seemed to be the main one, which largely ignored the self-serving fantasy structure of that sequence anyway – I was happy to see Tarantino continue to make his own special brand of art. Yeah, it's self-indulgent. But, whatever. The filmmaker and his characters would certainly never apologize for what they like. I don't intend to either. [Grade: A]