When I was in High School, I was a Tarantino worshipper. Between Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Pulp Fiction (1994), I thought cinema had reached its peak – that there wasn’t anywhere else it could possibly go. Of course, I was dead wrong, but I was only in ninth grade when Reservoir Dogs was released so I think a bit of slack might be considered. Looking back on Tarantino’s eclectic filmography all these years later, my clear favorite stands out as 1997’s Jackie Brown – an opinion, I suspect, shared by few.
Tarantino’s ninth feature, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood, combines a measured approach like that of Jackie Brown but with a heavy dose of the historical revisionism found in Inglourious Basterds (2009) thrown in for good measure. It’s an enjoyable if at times tedious look at Hollywood culture at the end of the 1960s and all the corruption, exploitation, and self-delusion that comes with it. Once Upon a Time is a love letter to a specific place and time that often loses sight of its own story in favor of impressive set decoration, but it’s also a hell of an entertaining yarn, with an ending so wild it damned near destroys any shortcomings.
At nearly three hours, Once Upon a Time takes a long time getting us where it wants us to go, but once there, it’s impossible to turn away. Two of its three main characters – Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) – are actors who lack confidence in their abilities, while the third, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), is just about the most self-assured stunt double the industry has ever seen. The lives of these three are intertwined by fate and employment but it’s the contrast between the first two and the third that make things interesting. They suffer, he does not. That is of course until one fateful night in August 1969.
It’s fairly obvious what famous Hollywood incident Once Upon a Time dances around if you have even the vaguest notion of who Sharon Tate is. But, just as the real-life incident effectively killed what innocence was left of late-’60s counterculture, so too does Tarantino’s alternate reality version, albeit in a more heroic, if equally grim manner. The death of peace and love is perhaps best summed up by a contender for my favorite exchange in any movie this year:
Jay Sebring: Is everyone ok?
Rick Dalton: Well, the f*cking hippies aren’t. That’s for goddamn sure.
If that doesn’t put the ‘60s to bed, I don’t know what will.
There’s no denying Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood is a beautiful film to look at but I’m not sure its beauty is what we should be focused on. Tarantino wants us to take notice of how much time, money, and effort he’s put into recreating the Hollywood he so idolizes – and it’s impossible not to – but that can’t be a pass for the sometimes lackluster plot advancement. This is where the focus should be, not the window dressing. Is the long build-up to the final bonkers and highly entertaining confrontation worth the effort? I believe it is but wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking otherwise.
That ending though. Sock it to me.
James is a writer, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.