I've never been one of those people who disliked Quentin Tarantino on some sort of contrarian principle. The guy has obvious talent, and though people like to counterpoint about the length of his films, his whole sale taking from exploitation films and hardly remembered Hollywood fodder from the 70s, and his inability to not write a movie not involving copious amounts of murder or without a bounty hunter character at some point somewhere, I generally dig what Tarantino is trying to do. His films feel like movies shuffled around together, tied off with his specific pulp style to make it into something grander, more epic (both in the literal sense and the filmic sense) than the low budget films that inspired him. Arguments against his originality miss the point: it isn't the stories and characters themselves that make Tarantino shine, it is how he uses them. All that is to say that I like the guy, so that when I say "Once Upon A Time In Hollywood is the most indulgent Tarantino film, bar none", you know I really fucking mean it.
Now, Tarantino does have a point to make with Hollywood, something hard to believe if you stopped the film anywhere in its first two hours. Tarantino veers away from his usual plots involving murder, war, or revenge, and this does something really strange to his story. It takes some of the oomph out of it. Credit where credit is due, Tarantino is trying something different here. Hollywood follows Rick Dalton, an in-the-process-of-being washed up TV actor who passed his opportunity to step up into the movies, and his stunt double and best-friend-in-the-world Cliff Booth, simply hanging on for dear life as all other prospects have dried up. Most of the film follows these two, as Dalton plays a guest appearance as a TV show villain, contemplating flying out to Italy to star in one of those western films out there, and Booth crosses path with the Manson family. These two round the drain while Sharon Tate lives life simply and joyfully, seeming not to have a care in the world. Tarantino at the very least knows he needs some sort of pull for his story, and where that is usually relegated to some form of revenge, here it is around the anticipation of Tate's inevitable murder. It's the kind of idea that makes sense on paper, but when you start to iron it out, you realize that instead of driving the plot of the movie - being a source of anticipation that the rest of the story feels as though it is building towards - it distracts from the disparate parts. Booth and Dalton hardly have anything to do with the Tate murder, outside of Dalton being Tate's next door neighbor. The obvious knowledge of the Tate murder, one of the most infamous murders of all time, drags down the film as you work overtime trying to figure out exactly how all of this is supposed to tie together.
Surprisingly, it does tie together in the end, but not until the last 40 min. For those of you keeping score at home, that is 2 hours into the film. The first two hours can be summed up rather well, showing Booth to be a poor mingler in the Hollywood inner circle, and generally listless, while Dalton tries his best at his current acting gig before being inspired to try out the Italian film market. Everything else is indulgent filler, comical send ups to the 60s (and late 50s) Hollywood culture, and a love letter to the films Tarantino grew up on. There is a tad bit of meta commentary as well, where Tarantino has a massive all-star cast, a slice of modern Hollywood, to tell a story about another era of Hollywood, but it matters less to the story or its effectiveness as it is an intentional quirk: again, indulgence. Tarantino could have cut an hour of this film easily (there is a lengthy flashback that acts as pretty much a joke and lasts nearly 20 min, where its primary content would have amounted to a minute or so in a different, more modern director).
For the first 2 hours of this film, Tarantino seems to cram every idea he ever had about 60s Hollywood into near-vignettes. They are so diluted that they eventually and tangentially tie in with the overarching narrative he wants to tell like a collage with a thin concept. That narrative, when all is said and done, is essentially just a joke. In some ways, Once Upon a Time In Hollywood is something like Tarantino directing a Cohen Brother's film, albeit with heavy rewrites from the legendary auteur. There is a quirky punch line at the end of the film - the kind you may notice as the climax starts to head its way to you, headlights flaring on the road ahead - and, for what it is worth, the punch line is pretty good. But it certainly wasn't worth 2 hours of meandering to get to. The idea that Tarantino coded this film his "Magnum Opus" while trying to get it made makes sense, but only from a completely delusional standpoint. I would not doubt Tarantino thought his love letter to 60s Hollywood was his best film, crammed to the piss-threatening gills with references and asides until you frustratingly give in and let the film do whatever the fuck it wants, story or no. It is downright masturbatory at times, but it is never boring. Tarantino has not made a particularly great film here, but it is entertaining.
Spoilers below.
Tarantino's big joke, the one he builds toward the whole movie, is essentially a revisionist version of the Manson murders. It was probably predictable from the first mention to Sharon Tate Tarantino ever made when promoting this movie ahead of release, but the Manson murders are heavily rewritten. Rewriting history is something of a motif with Tarantino, most expertly done in is last truly outstanding film, Inglorious Basterds, and here he does it again. At the last minute, after being yelled at by a drunk, hippie-hating Rick Dalton, the Manson family members decide it would better serve the world to kill this has-been TV star. "Kill the people who taught us to murder!" one of them screams, referencing the fact that they grew watching TV, which was predominantly about death. The Manson family, unfortunately, aren't truly expecting Booth to be tripping on acid, or for his trained pitbull to be standing by. The Manson family didn't stand a chance, and thus the joke has been sprung: those that killed classic Hollywood and the 60s have been killed by a has-been TV actor and his stunt double. It is Hollywood taking revenge on its loss of innocence (or something to that effect, anyway, since Hollywood has never been anything close to innocent). It is, at last, a revenge film, the kind that Tarantino thrives on, but incognito. The ending is rather funny, watching it all transpire well after you know it is going to, and you're left with an odd taste in your mouth. It was a funny end to a bizarre movie, one where you can see why he structured it this way, and what he was trying to develop in most every scene, but you can't help but think how overwrought a lot of it is. So much time is spent watching things we don't need to watch, seeing whole scenes of fictional TV shows progress just so we can see Rick Dalton's feelings about it. Likewise with Booth, who spends a lengthy amount of time with the Manson family mostly to tease the unknowing threat around him, but it all eventually doesn't amount to anything (that said, this was probably my favorite scene in the whole movie, so perhaps I can give this one a pass). Tarantino is simply out of things to prove, narratively. He has used it all up, playing to what he likes without any more charm or interesting perspective to bring. He's still quite talented, but I just think he likes playing with his toys.
7.0
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