Think about your favourite Quentin Tarantino film and then focus on a single moment from it. Do you imagine “Pulp Fiction” and Samuel L. Jackson’s evocative “Ezekiel 25:17” speech? Or, perhaps you have a profound love for Christoph Waltz’s Colonel Hans Landa of “Inglourious Basterds”, bringing tides of doom over a glass of fresh milk.
Whatever moment you choose, it is likely to have been one preceded or followed by scenes of intense, graphic and often gratuitous violence. Tarantino has always been controversial, his films both revered and reviled, delivering relentless scenes of chaos and humour unto our screens that, if nothing else, have left their mark on our memories.
If this is the Tarantino you seek, it would be wise to go and scour through his eight-film back catalogue, because “Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood” is an entirely different creation altogether.
Set against a vibrant and immersive 1969 California, with Hollywood’s supposed golden age coming to a close and the cult of Charles Manson looming on the horizon, Tarantino foregoes major plot points in order to instead explore the daily endeavours of almost-washed-up actor Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his effortlessly cool stunt double/best friend Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). Dalton wallows in what remains of his waning TV and film career, while Booth, long-since deemed unnecessary and unwanted by the studios, is kept on his personal payroll as a driver, handyman and, perhaps most pertinently, emotional support provider. Belonging to a time steeped in colour, hippies and social division, the pair don’t know their standing, meandering through lives neither glamorous enough to be truly elite, nor bleak enough to warrant real sympathy.
If one were to clumsily categorise this rather abstract film, its most fitting description would be a light-hearted buddy comedy. DiCaprio and Pitt, two of the most celebrated stars of their era, are perfectly cast, instilling warmth and “believability” into characters stumbling to find purpose in a changing world. This film has been lazily described as a love letter to Hollywood, but within may lie an element of truth. Either Tarantino is showing that, in the age of Marvel and Marvel-lite, original works starring A-list actors can still be successful – or, contrarily, he is proffering his bittersweet ode and farewell to the films of yesteryear.
Though tame by the standards one would expect of a Tarantino flick, this film is a conversation starter that will change upon every re-watch, offering a window into how Hollywood used to be. There are, of course, moments of tension and violence, but they are few and far between. This film wants to take you for an easy-going tour through L.A.’s sun-drenched boulevards, but there’s no need to buckle up: kick your shoes off, sit back and enjoy the ride.
(P.S. Tarantino once again discards historical accuracy to deliver a “what if…?” ending that will only make sense to those familiar with the story of the Manson Family and Sharon Tate, so brush up on that knowledge before you go.)
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