Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

I was a big Quentin Tarantino fan for years. Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown. Loved 'em. Enjoyed and respected what he did with Kill Bill 1&2. I absolutely HATED Death Proof. I also enjoyed his more recent movies, but he's definitely gotten more self-indulgent in his movie-making. 

The other night, Carol and I streamed Tarantino's ninth, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, which is more or less a buddy picture, telling the story of a fading TV Western star (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his stunt double (Brad Pitt). In a parallel story, a young actress, newly married to a famous movie director, wanders around Hollywood in 1969.

I'm not going to do a big review, but just say that while I generally enjoyed the movie, and I thought they did an incredible job recreating the atmosphere of 1969 Hollywood, the film was way too undisciplined. Carol and I both thought the pacing was too slow and scene after scene dragged on for way too long. This includes long driving scenes, long walking scenes, and interminable housekeeping scenes (people making meals, feeding dogs, making drinks). It all comes in with a run time of 2 hours and 41 minutes. Frankly, I would have cut 30 minutes.

After I watched it, I read some online reviews. To my amusement, a lot of movie-savvy folk were saying that this was Tarantino's most personal film in a long time, and one of his most laid-back and funny. While there was some humor, as expected, I didn't think it was at all laid-back. That's mostly because the entire movie was suffused with a dread and tension for me. You see, the actress mentioned above, played by Margot Robbie, was Sharon Tate. As you may know, Sharon Tate was among seven victims of the Manson family in August, 1969.

Knowing that one of the main characters in the movie, and several of her friends, were going to be gruesomely murdered, took away some of the breeziness for me.

(And no, I'm not going to say anything about how the movie ended.)