Film Review: 'Once Upon A Time...In Hollywood'

Quentin Tarantino is a singular director. There are many components which set his films, or events, apart from the heaps of throwback auteurs, many of whom have fallen out of relevance nowadays (Woody Allen, Michael Mann): the signature barb-wired, back-and-forth banter delivered by prime-of-their-careers household names; plentiful content for foot-fetishes; sweeping shots of characters pressed against tinted, slickly lit scenery; history-alternating narratives and stories no other director would dare tell, no less tackle with Tarantino's confidence and god-be-damned attitude.

'Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood' is a craftsman's craft: as the audience is watching the film, we're also watching the mastermind behind the camera make the film. Tarantino's infusion of style and personality gives the film an electrifying pulse, as if we're taking an inside, perverse look at Hollywood's inner-makings and its fickle 15 minutes of stardom. The various vertical crane shots throughout the film, alongside its multi-protagonist narrative threads, establish one theme: Tarantino is the watchful god of this universe, of the alternate "Hollywood" kingdom, where 90 million dollars has helped Tarantino realized the kingdom's most expensive in-joke. If it's not clear yet, I will gladly spell it out:

The fairy-tale goes, "Once upon a time..."-"...and they live happily ever after"

But the Tarantino juice is both a blessing and a curse. The most Tarantino-esque movie ever, 'Once Upon A Time...In Hollywood' leaves little to the imagination, yet trusts its audience to piece the story for themselves, sometimes damning the film's own good. Anyone without prior knowledge of the events surrounding the film's time slate would leave Hollywood with a dull, borderline meandering impression of a director far too indulgent in his love letter; on the other hand, anyone with prior knowledge, either in-depth encyclopedic recollections or brief overview of said events, would find an enjoyable film, yet one still marred by a director far too indulgent in his love letter. And for Tarantino fans, it's a Tarantino film, one which is subversive enough for a recommend, but not surprising enough to warrant a rewatch.

Tarantino is both the film's biggest strength, and its biggest flaw. And I absolutely love it.

The Story

*SOME SPOILERS AHEAD*

Hollywood tells the story of Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio), a dazed actor who had made a name for himself starring in hit cowboy TV series Bounty Law, but is suffering from a career slump, in which the industry views him as a has-been, typecast heavy. Along for the *literal* ride is Dalton's stunt double, the uber-cool, mac-and-cheese eating, pitbull-loving Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), who also moonlights as Dalton's chauffeur and best buddy. Rick is neighbor to two very popular names: Director Roman Polanski, and actress Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie).

Now, if you know the story and the significance of the Manson murder, odds are you would enjoy the movie to a much better extent. Make no mistake, at no point in the entire movie does Rick and Cliff's narrative intertwine with Tate's, so even without said knowledge, you'd still be able to enjoy parts of the movie, making for an amusing, yet disjointed, film whose ending is more a "huh?" then a "wow!". Charles Manson is barely even mentioned in the film anyway!

Tarantino has always thrived in his meta-conversation with pop culture and history: he was the one who brought prominence to the Double Royale and the word 'motherfucker'; he was the one who dictated his own ending to World War II; he was the one brought "Django" back to fad. It's impossible to enjoy a Tarantino film without some knowledge of pop culture.

But to many, specifically millennials living outside of the U.S., the Manson Murder is a blind spot, pop culture-wise. No movie should require prior research to be enjoyed, but in this case, Tarantino didn't seem to mind: a friend of mine knew absolutely nothing about the event, and she still enjoyed the film on the whole.

The glaring issue here is with Sharon Tate.

Not knowing about her involvement in the Manson Murder would significantly make the film worse. Much of the runtime is devoted to Tate and her polygamous relationship with Roman Polanski and Jay Sebring, and through no fault of Margot Robbie (who turns in a reliably great performance), Tate's story is a misfire when compared to Cliff's L.A. adventures and Rick's mid-life crisis. There was no setup, her involvement in the film is purely a diversion, and the payoff, while satisfying, had no direct involvement to Tate and hardly warranted for such lengthened screen time.

Aside from that, it's hard to pick faults with the story or the screenplay. This is very much Tarantino's most epic film: his greatest hits are on glorious display during the beefy 161 minute runtime, from quick-witted banter to landscape porn, and it certainly creates a laid back vibe to the movie: characters are in no rush to evolve their stories, but rather to sit in the stew that is Tarantino's slow burn approach to personal breakdowns and mini crises. It's rather inspiring that a director could perform such a distinct vision with such style and confidence, and Tarantino certainly deserves the praise: his sentiment towards fairy tales and nostalgic is troubling and violent, but evokes a sweet respect for filmmaking's history. Tarantino created a world where characters live freely without the horrific outcomes of real life, a sentimental ideal especially when compared to his rather ideologically-violent works in Death Proof or Inglorious Basterds.

There are scenes throughout the movie that would make the audience go awe at how utterly marvelous it is, both screenplay-wise and setting-wise. I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, but the way Tarantino views filmmaking is an utterly mesmerizing practice, going full-meta at certain points to service the story, rather than to amuse his liking.

And the third act, mon cheri! You have to see it to believe it.

All said and done, it's destined for cult status, and I'll put a small reference board of quotable lines right here for those who need, well, quotable lines.

My personal favorite was "I'm as real as a motherfucking donut". You're welcome.

The Performances

It goes without saying, but man, can these three act.

The ensemble is having an absolute blast. Brad Pitt shines in the role of his lifetime as stuntman Cliff Booth, evoking the same chilled-out, swaggering cool vibe that he has capitalized into his career. Eerily resembling a young Robert Redford, Pitt does more when he does less: he lets the quiet, irresistible charisma of Booth do the lion's share of the heavy lifting, while chewing Tarantino's dialogue like it's his Kraft mac-and-cheese. Pitt has gone his whole career without an acting Academy Award to his name. It's high time that changed.

The polar opposite of Pitt, Leonardo DiCaprio gets to grind his teeth on the meatiest role he has ever been given, as has-been, cigarette downing, insecure Rick Dalton. DiCaprio makes it look easy: he's an actor, playing an actor, playing multiple characters. Every scene DiCaprio is in, he mesmerizes the audience with a magnetic charm: DiCaprio's decision to have Rick stutter in real-life conversations, as opposed to his swift line-readings on camera, makes the audience relate to the character's insecurities. It's a very physical role as well: there are certain scenes which required DiCaprio to blend physical comedy with mental breakdowns, which he sells with the earnestness of an actor on top of his game. Rick Dalton is less showy than DiCaprio's Jordan Belfort or Hugh Glass, but much more brilliant in hindsight.

Margot Robbie might have had the hardest task of the three: how do you play a Hollywood-ized version of a slain real-life figure without disrespecting her legacy and incur the wrath of 1 million Twitter accounts?

The answer is simple: You don't.

Robbie didn't try to invoke Sharon Tate's warm, fuzzy screen presence, nor did she oversell Tate's real-life tendencies. Instead, Robbie brought her own arsenal of sweetness, with her round, wide eyes and confident demeanor, one that warrants awareness from others but never intentionally. It's hard not to sympathize with Robbie's Tate when she got on her oversized glasses to see the audience's reaction to her on-screen performance, making for a relatable, and ultimately sympathetic, character.

Aside from the big 3, a staple of a Tarantino film is also stunt casting: when he's not casting himself as an Australian cowboy, Tarantino often inserts his frequent collaborators in bit roles, and with Hollywood, Tarantino has reached his apex of casting flex, with names ranging from moderately recognizable to de facto superstars. Al Pacino showed up and was Al Pacino ("Schwarz, not Schwartz"); Dakota Fanning was unrecognizable with her low vocal register and sharp insults; Austin Butler injected some much-needed levity to a walking resentment of a human being; Margaret Qualley was a surprising scene-stealer, despite sharing most of her scenes with Brad Pitt, and Bruce Dern turned in a literal half-dead performance. There's a ton more cameos to be found, and it would be an excellent game of "Who's Who" upon further rewatch.

The Controversies

Now this is where I would like to play a little game called "Was It Offensive?", a frequent game of mine during Tarantino films. "Was It Offensive?" constitutes of scenes where Tarantino walks the fine line between casual racism, sexism and any other isms that exist in the realm of moviemaking, and funny inclusions meant to involve the audience in the stories rather than provoke them. If you think it's (noun)cist, you turn off the film and re-evaluate your moral compass. If you think it's funny, you revel in your own horrible personality.

Past offenders include:

- Frequently using the N word because he has Samuel L.Jackson's blessing

- *spoilers* Kill Hitler

- Have American Brad Pitt play Tarantino's version of an Italian

- Inserting sexual and assault offenders in real life to play sexual and assault offenders in his film

- Inserting normal actors to play real life sexual and assault offenders in his film.

Examples in this film include:

- Bruce Lee (Mike Moh) being portrayed as a cocky, flabbergasting Asian caricature who claimed that he would handily beat Cassius Clay, before getting his ass handed to him by Booth. Tarantino defended himself by saying Bruce Lee's wife said that he did say those things, which didn't fly with Bruce Lee's daughter

- Casting Emile Hirsch as Jay Sebring after Hirsch literally choked a female executive, even though the role could have been played by anyone else.

- Portraying Roman Polanski as a fun-loving artist.

- Using Sharon Tate as a shock plot device rather than a fully-fledged character

- Frequently filming Margaret Qualley and Margot Robbie's feet.

Alright, the last one was actually funny, but the film is problematic nonetheless: Tarantino either deliberately did all those things in the name of his "craft" (shock value being a key characteristic), or he just didn't care.

Whether or not these "controversies" bother you, that's for you to decide.

Overall: A-

There's no denying Tarantino's love for films: his "hangout movie" is better than the sum of its parts, and there are no outright bad scenes or performances in the film.

This is very much a "You either love it or hate it movie". Taken for its value, it's worth the trip to the cinema, if not for the chance to see Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio together in their prime. But to recommend it to anyone outside the film circles or the Tarantino enthusiasts would be a damning task: how do you convince a non-believer to sit through 161 minutes of a thinly plotted, resolution-less, LSD-induced love letter by a very problematic, yet very talented auteur?

The answer is simple: You don't. There will never be a movie like this, and it should be commended for the fact that it got made at all, flaws-be-damned.