Homage to the lack of interest

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is Quentin Tarantino still doing what he's always been doing: spending time imagining how the American film industry could have been different, while offering a paean to what it was, anyway. The only real problem is that he's not doing it as well, anymore.

Tarantino has long been criticized for his use of homage to other films and film styles. Reservoir Dogs, for example, has been cited for a number of similarities to Ringo Lam's City on Fire. Tarantino hasn't shied away from these implied insults, suggesting that what he does is reference the work of other authors while putting his own spin on it. This latest film, though, is what amounts to an homage to a time period and is subsumed in cultural references to that period, using the famed Manson murders as something of a real world backbone to what was happening in the fantasy land known as Hollywood. In fact, both male leads are based on actual people, with Leonardo DiCaprio's Rick Dalton being a pastiche of actors like Tab Hunter and Brad Pitt's Cliff Booth representing long-time Burt Reynolds stunt double, Hal Needham. Margot Robbie, of course, plays the actual Sharon Tate (and, on that note, Mike Moh's Bruce Lee is both well done and fairly amusing.) The period in question was one of transition in Hollywood (and the nation), where tried and true stalwarts like Westerns were giving way to the New Hollywood of more introspective pictures in the hands of names like Scorsese, Coppola, and Altman. Tarantino takes time to emphasize that societal change with Dalton and Booth's constant references to "hippies" and how they're seemingly appearing everywhere, with occasionally bloody consequences, while Dalton lives out the creative change, with his type of performer no longer being in demand.

So there is a story here, of Dalton's career struggle and Booth's faithful assistance. And there is a message here; of transition, of social transformation, and of the continued presence of violence in all of it. But what's missing is anything particularly memorable about the film. Tarantino made his bones with dialogue. Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown, Inglourious Basterds, even his segment in Four Rooms are all memorable for the way their characters communicate. Who can forget the conversation in the diner that veers from a discussion on whether pigs are fit to eat to the seeming nobility of a lifestyle change? Or the tension of a farmhouse in France while an SS colonel expounds on work, duty, and milk? Or the matter-of-fact explanation of a murder? Nothing like that exists in Once Upon a Time. There aren't really any memorable scenes, outside of a violent confrontation near the end and Dalton's occasional rants about himself in a mirror. One of them was dialogue-light and the other was dialogue-neutral. Despite the acting prowess of most of the people in the film, the one or two memorable lines come from child actress (excuse me: "actor") Julia Butters who stuck out as an homage to Kim Darby's role in True Grit. If you go into this expecting a Hans Landa or a Jules Winfield or a Calvin Candle, you're going to be disappointed. Tarantino took some criticism for his previous film, The Hateful Eight, being a wholly predictable and somewhat formulaic Western. Now he's made a film about the (temporary) end of Westerns that is no less predictable.

DiCaprio is his usual intense self, bringing energy and animus to a routine role. Pitt's job on screen is basically to be cool. Pitt is very good at being cool (see: Ocean's Eleven), so he handles it with aplomb. But that's as far as they both go. There's not enough in this script to give them moments that would leave an impact in the minds of the viewer. No one is going to be walking out of the theater reciting Ezekiel 25:17 or giving the plantation owner's opinion on the structure of power in the Old South. Watching a stuntman's personality expressed in his driving style and Sharon Tate's giddiness at her own success onscreen is interesting enough to keep the film moving, but there's frankly nothing that one walks out with and says "That's a Tarantino film!" until we get to the faux commercial during the credits for his long-time fictional Red Apple cigarettes. Again, this is an homage to an era, so we get a lot of looks at signage, architecture, car fenders, and other signs of the real world of that time surrounding the fantasy world and that's all well and good for a decent film. But it doesn't quite reach the level of a great one and, having been a Tarantino fan since the early 90s, that's usually what I'm expecting.

There have been some comparisons of this film to Jackie Brown; generally considered the weakest of his efforts but also the most languid and most personal of the stories that he's told. I think the comparison is apt, as this is a personal story, slowly played out amidst the foibles and contrasting outer lifestyles of the two leads, but whose lives intersect in their careers which, again, are part of the homage. Bit appearances by the usual suspects of Tarantino (Michael Madsen, Kurt Russell, etc.) are fine as inside jokes for those who've followed his films, but they don't add much, either (those seeing this as a meta reference to the former studio stables of actors are likely getting the joke.) I read about a poll the other day that mentioned the higher percentage than normal of attendees seeing the film because of the director and because of the actors involved. That actually says a lot about the film itself and why I can only passably recommend it. It's not bad. It's just not that great, either.