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Chris Sawin (602 KP) rated Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019) in Movies
Jul 26, 2019
Leonardo DiCaprio (1 more)
Brad Pitt
It's 2 hours and 41 minutes and feels long. (2 more)
Story elements don't seem to go together.
Charles Manson stuff feels forced.
With Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood being his ninth feature film as writer and director and a career just shy of the three decade mark, you should probably know what to expect from a Quentin Tarantino film. Amongst all of the usual Tarantino trademarks of memorable performances, long strings of dialogue, a questionable amount of dancing, the inclusion of several shots of barefoot women, interior car sequences, and a relentless tidal wave of vulgarity that drowns the audience in a sea of sharp expletives, Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood lacks the one element that truly makes a Tarantino film worthwhile; coherent storytelling.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood should be great based on its cast alone. Leonardo DiCaprio delivers one of his more complex performances as television star turned infrequent movie star Rick Dalton. Dalton made a name for himself in a western TV series called Bounty Law. Rick burned that bridge when he tried to make the jump to movies and failed. Now he only seems to get work as the TV villain. Rick gets an opportunity in Rome to star in Italian spaghetti westerns and reluctantly accepts. Rick is an alcoholic that struggles with a stutter when he speaks. He has low self-esteem and questions every decision he makes. The scene where he flubs his lines followed by his angry outburst in his trailer is extraordinary. He’s also the one person on the planet who seems to hate hippies more than Eric Cartman.
Brad Pitt portrays Rick’s stunt double Cliff Booth. Cliff is a Vietnam War veteran who may or may not have (but probably did) kill his wife without any repercussions. Cliff hardly works as a stunt double anymore and mostly makes his living driving Rick around and doing various odd jobs for him. Cliff is the exact opposite of Rick. Rick lives in the Hollywood Hills in a roomy luxurious house with a pool and an extravagant view. Cliff lives in a trailer by a drive-in theater, eats macaroni and cheese for dinner, and has amazing chemistry with his pitbull Brandy. Cliff seems like a handy and capable guy, but he’s also extremely blunt. His to-the-point demeanor keeps Rick’s wilder antics in check the majority of the time. Cliff doesn’t exactly babysit Rick and allows him to live his own life, but he’s the one to give Rick the “you’re better than that,” kind of pep talk after it’s over.
One of the things mentioned in the film by Kurt Russell (he plays Randy and does the voiceover as the narrator) is that Rick and Cliff share this bond that is practically as deep as a brotherhood yet lacks the commitment of a marriage. Their bond is the backbone of the film and it’s interesting because they both seem like half decent people. Cliff may have killed someone and Rick beats himself up harder than anyone else could, but they’re both hard working individuals who put everything into their work and they have each other’s backs through thick and thin. Their bond is almost wholesome to the minuscule extent Tarantino will allow.
Brad Pitt’s chemistry with Brandy is also quite entertaining. There’s something comical about seeing Cliff rummage through his pantry filled with nothing but cans of dog food only to pull out two specific cans; one rat flavored and one raccoon flavored. He opens the cans with a manual can opener, tips them over in mid-air after removing their lids, and lets gravity guide that slop into whatever is designated as a food bowl that particular evening in a sickening PLOP! And a meaty splash that overflows onto the kitchen floor tiles. Cliff and Brandy seem almost as close as Cliff and Rick. They have this partnership that is easy to detect as soon as they’re on-screen together.
Mike Moh’s Bruce Lee impression isn’t totally flawless, but it is fairly excellent regardless. Moh is Korean and Bruce Lee was Chinese-American, so it’s an intriguing fit that works way better than you expect. The scene Moh has with Pitt as Bruce Lee and Cliff Booth have a physical encounter is an entertaining highlight of the film. The outrageous violence you’ve come to expect in a Tarantino film isn’t present in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood until the final scene and it is a glorious display of dog biting, face pummeling, and flame throwing mayhem. If Cliff Booth hasn’t already established himself as a certified badass through the first two and a half hours, those last ten minutes certainly allow him to obtain that title with ease.
The unfortunate aspect of Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is that everything doesn’t really come together in a satisfying way. You’ve got a washed up actor trying to regain the spotlight, a stunt double struggling to find work and make a living despite his troublesome reputation, and the Charles Manson stuff with Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha) and Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) living next door to Rick and Cliff’s time at the Spahn Movie Ranch with the Manson Family. In 1968, Tate and four others were murdered in the home she shared with Polanski by members of the Manson Family while being eight-and-a-half months pregnant. It’s a horrendous statistic that puts a different perspective on the ending if you didn’t know beforehand. The Manson inclusion mostly feels like an afterthought that isn’t ever taken seriously.
So many recognizable names are a part of the cast and everyone outside of Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio are basically a waste. Margot Robbie has a few moments that mostly reside in her reacting to films starring Sharon Tate in a movie theater. Tate seems to represent this pure and positive light in the film while Rick and Cliff experience the uglier aspects of the Tarantino-skewed late 1960s. Robbie downright glows during that movie theater sequence with a bubbly and contagious attitude, but doesn’t do much else over the course of the film.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood feels longer than its 141-minute duration. It drags so often in between its enjoyable moments and seems to purposely lag during every dialogue heavy sequence that is just talking without any sort of payoff. Tarantino’s attention to the music of whatever era he’s depicting has always been a staple in his films, but it is on the verge of annoyance here. The dancing in the film feels like an excuse to stretch out the story that much longer for no other reason other than to blatantly rub the audience’s nose in the time period.
There are some masterful elements to Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood that shouldn’t be overlooked. Leonardo DiCaprio’s Rick F’ing Dalton sequence is explosively brilliant and Brad Pitt has this abrasive charm as Cliff Booth. It’s difficult to make the argument that Quentin Tarantino has original stories still worth telling at this point in his career though since this suffers from incoherent progression and a reasonable purpose for why we should care about these characters. At one point in the film, Rick tells Cliff with tears streaming down his face and this unhealthy cough full of cancerous phlegm, “It’s official old buddy. I’m a has-been.” Maybe this is how Tarantino feels about himself now that he’s nearing the end of his filmmaking career. That struggle to find meaning and a welcome audience for something he used to care deeply about but may have lost the passion for in recent years. He had a good run, but as it stands Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is overstuffed yet bland despite its two zesty leads.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood should be great based on its cast alone. Leonardo DiCaprio delivers one of his more complex performances as television star turned infrequent movie star Rick Dalton. Dalton made a name for himself in a western TV series called Bounty Law. Rick burned that bridge when he tried to make the jump to movies and failed. Now he only seems to get work as the TV villain. Rick gets an opportunity in Rome to star in Italian spaghetti westerns and reluctantly accepts. Rick is an alcoholic that struggles with a stutter when he speaks. He has low self-esteem and questions every decision he makes. The scene where he flubs his lines followed by his angry outburst in his trailer is extraordinary. He’s also the one person on the planet who seems to hate hippies more than Eric Cartman.
Brad Pitt portrays Rick’s stunt double Cliff Booth. Cliff is a Vietnam War veteran who may or may not have (but probably did) kill his wife without any repercussions. Cliff hardly works as a stunt double anymore and mostly makes his living driving Rick around and doing various odd jobs for him. Cliff is the exact opposite of Rick. Rick lives in the Hollywood Hills in a roomy luxurious house with a pool and an extravagant view. Cliff lives in a trailer by a drive-in theater, eats macaroni and cheese for dinner, and has amazing chemistry with his pitbull Brandy. Cliff seems like a handy and capable guy, but he’s also extremely blunt. His to-the-point demeanor keeps Rick’s wilder antics in check the majority of the time. Cliff doesn’t exactly babysit Rick and allows him to live his own life, but he’s the one to give Rick the “you’re better than that,” kind of pep talk after it’s over.
One of the things mentioned in the film by Kurt Russell (he plays Randy and does the voiceover as the narrator) is that Rick and Cliff share this bond that is practically as deep as a brotherhood yet lacks the commitment of a marriage. Their bond is the backbone of the film and it’s interesting because they both seem like half decent people. Cliff may have killed someone and Rick beats himself up harder than anyone else could, but they’re both hard working individuals who put everything into their work and they have each other’s backs through thick and thin. Their bond is almost wholesome to the minuscule extent Tarantino will allow.
Brad Pitt’s chemistry with Brandy is also quite entertaining. There’s something comical about seeing Cliff rummage through his pantry filled with nothing but cans of dog food only to pull out two specific cans; one rat flavored and one raccoon flavored. He opens the cans with a manual can opener, tips them over in mid-air after removing their lids, and lets gravity guide that slop into whatever is designated as a food bowl that particular evening in a sickening PLOP! And a meaty splash that overflows onto the kitchen floor tiles. Cliff and Brandy seem almost as close as Cliff and Rick. They have this partnership that is easy to detect as soon as they’re on-screen together.
Mike Moh’s Bruce Lee impression isn’t totally flawless, but it is fairly excellent regardless. Moh is Korean and Bruce Lee was Chinese-American, so it’s an intriguing fit that works way better than you expect. The scene Moh has with Pitt as Bruce Lee and Cliff Booth have a physical encounter is an entertaining highlight of the film. The outrageous violence you’ve come to expect in a Tarantino film isn’t present in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood until the final scene and it is a glorious display of dog biting, face pummeling, and flame throwing mayhem. If Cliff Booth hasn’t already established himself as a certified badass through the first two and a half hours, those last ten minutes certainly allow him to obtain that title with ease.
The unfortunate aspect of Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is that everything doesn’t really come together in a satisfying way. You’ve got a washed up actor trying to regain the spotlight, a stunt double struggling to find work and make a living despite his troublesome reputation, and the Charles Manson stuff with Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha) and Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) living next door to Rick and Cliff’s time at the Spahn Movie Ranch with the Manson Family. In 1968, Tate and four others were murdered in the home she shared with Polanski by members of the Manson Family while being eight-and-a-half months pregnant. It’s a horrendous statistic that puts a different perspective on the ending if you didn’t know beforehand. The Manson inclusion mostly feels like an afterthought that isn’t ever taken seriously.
So many recognizable names are a part of the cast and everyone outside of Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio are basically a waste. Margot Robbie has a few moments that mostly reside in her reacting to films starring Sharon Tate in a movie theater. Tate seems to represent this pure and positive light in the film while Rick and Cliff experience the uglier aspects of the Tarantino-skewed late 1960s. Robbie downright glows during that movie theater sequence with a bubbly and contagious attitude, but doesn’t do much else over the course of the film.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood feels longer than its 141-minute duration. It drags so often in between its enjoyable moments and seems to purposely lag during every dialogue heavy sequence that is just talking without any sort of payoff. Tarantino’s attention to the music of whatever era he’s depicting has always been a staple in his films, but it is on the verge of annoyance here. The dancing in the film feels like an excuse to stretch out the story that much longer for no other reason other than to blatantly rub the audience’s nose in the time period.
There are some masterful elements to Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood that shouldn’t be overlooked. Leonardo DiCaprio’s Rick F’ing Dalton sequence is explosively brilliant and Brad Pitt has this abrasive charm as Cliff Booth. It’s difficult to make the argument that Quentin Tarantino has original stories still worth telling at this point in his career though since this suffers from incoherent progression and a reasonable purpose for why we should care about these characters. At one point in the film, Rick tells Cliff with tears streaming down his face and this unhealthy cough full of cancerous phlegm, “It’s official old buddy. I’m a has-been.” Maybe this is how Tarantino feels about himself now that he’s nearing the end of his filmmaking career. That struggle to find meaning and a welcome audience for something he used to care deeply about but may have lost the passion for in recent years. He had a good run, but as it stands Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is overstuffed yet bland despite its two zesty leads.
Kirk Bage (1775 KP) rated The Mandalorian in TV
Jan 22, 2021 (Updated Jan 22, 2021)
Being a child of Star Wars, born in ’73, whose first memory of a cinema was A New Hope in ’77, of course the entire franchise is still close to my heart. I am no superfan, however. I do not need to remember every name of every character, or know the obscure names of planets to enjoy it. I remember that deeply competitive nature back in the playground – how important it was to prove Star Wars was yours by knowing more than any other kid! Fortunately I managed to let that go shortly after The Return of the Jedi. Ok, maybe 1995.
The Mandalorian is definitely for all Star Wars fans, but it is mostly for the kids that never grew up and need those details of “the canonical Star Wars” universe in their lives. And there are plenty of them. It is a geek’s wet dream! With chat rooms and fan sites going wild in debate and argument over the smallest of Easter eggs and hints to connections across the medium. As if this is a lost historical document that sheds light on the truth of many characters and events, that until now were shrouded in darkness and speculation only.
I find that phenomenon weird and a little creepy, but I do appreciate where it comes from. For me, I am merely glad it isn’t crap. It is nice to be in the Star Wars universe without holding your face in your hands for shame of lazy storytelling and moments that shit on the spirit of the original trilogy. The first thing that pleased me about The Mandolorian is how close it is in feel to the old school trilogy. In fact it surprised me, because, despite the very modern effects and full budget of Disney behind it, it feels very old fashioned, like a TV show from around 1986, maybe. And I wonder how they have achieved that every time I watch it. It has an intangible magic about it.
In fact, the feel of the show as a whole is often a little cheap, shockingly – the posters and toys and all associated media is as glossy and crisp as all money can afford, creating an image of the show that isn’t actually what the show is. In reality it is a cross between old spaghetti westerns, with The Mandalorian cast as The Man With No Name, and episodes of The A-Team or Knightrider. I kinda like it; very nostalgic, and a smart move by Jon Favreau and the other show-runners. It appeals to middle aged audiences and new alike, because it is a knowing hybrid of all things cool and nerdy!
Design-wise, the look of The Mandalorian himself is perfect fan bait and very cool. The music goes a long way to drawing you in – Ludwig Göransson, known for his work on Black Panther and Tenet, has hit on a career defining theme that blends Clint Eastwood and Star Wars in perfect harmony. I can’t imagine the show working half as well without that theme music! The spaceships and detail of every alien and weapon and costume is meticulous (if at times a little wobbly or cheap looking), and the wider feel of background and tertiary characters is pretty damn good.
But, let’s face it… The Mandalorian is the success it has been predominantly for one reason. I could give him his real name, but if you haven’t finished it yet that would count as a huge spoiler, so I will refer to him as The Child. The temptation to use the phrase Baby Yoda is hard to resist, and has been a cultural phenomenon that only comes along once or twice in a decade, but on this I agree with the fans: it is inaccurate and misleading. The Child is fine. It’ll do until you learn his true moniker.
In season one, where the build up of story, character and mystery is superb, we see very little of The Child at first. But we cannot take our eyes off him for every second he is on screen. The whole concept is so beyond cute and incredibly strong as a hook for a Star Wars story it is almost impossible not to squeal out loud at everything he does. Who is he? Why is he? What is he capable of? How will he fit in to the longterm idea for the story? So exciting, and total genius to keep everyone watching.
It isn’t all about The Child on his own though. It is about the unlikely symbiotic bond, like father and son, that develops between the tiny, vulnerable and childlike focal point, and the increasingly confident and loyal antihero, who will stop at nothing to protect his ward, as he struggles to find his own place in the universe. After a very short time, we care more about this relationship than 90% of all romances in all of TV history.
Through danger, mayhem and a touch of comedy, we grow to adore the two of them together, and can’t bear to think of them being apart. Some trick when you realise The Child is as much a mini-muppet style prosthetic as it is added CGI for expression and detail. Perhaps another callback to our 80s sensibilities, when we accepted ETs and Gremlins and all of the residents of Mos Eisley’s cantina as real without hesitation. It doesn’t have to look real, is the point, as long as it fits the story, is cool and is fun! Which The Child totally is – for entertainment value they have got the tone of the show so right.
What doesn’t hold up that strongly to critical scrutiny though is quite a lot of the scripts, the repetitive nature of the context of many episodes and missions the duo find themselves on, the mismatch quality of the guest directors abilities, and quite a lot of the dodgy acting by supporting characters. It’s as if at some production meeting at one early point they all said, look it’s Star Wars, we make the aliens and the spaceships and the weapons look good and we can’t fail… plus we have The Child and Boba Fett’s (yes, I know) armour, we can’t fail!
The basic storyline is enough to hook it on, just about, it is the detail that sometimes feels weak and lazy. But don’t worry, any minute something cool to look at and a big fight will happen, so we’re all good! I’m sure Pedro Pascal (the actor under the armour) can’t believe his luck! He is one of the biggest stars in TV all of a sudden, for basically doing a fairly monotone voice-over performance of some seriously dodgy dialogue. That is the magic of Star Wars.
So, I came to season one late, having no access at that time to Disney plus. In fact, I watched all of season one in a day the day before the launch of season two, so the switch to a new episode to look forward to suited me well. It gave me something to look forward to on a Friday between Halloween and Christmas. Trouble was that, although still having fun with the exploits of The Kid, I was starting to weary of the plotlines, and put my viewing on hold after S2E4 in favour of the far superior scripting of His Dark Materials on BBC.
I must have needed the hiatus, because when I came back to mop it up and finish season two a few days ago I realised that I had in fact missed it. It also helped that episode 5 onwards is when the season gets really good again. Rosario Dawson as Ashoka Tano (known well by fans of The Clone Wars) was a truly great addition that the show much needed by that point.
I had no trouble after that in bingeing to the end. You could feel a climax and a revelation coming, and although the character of Moff Gideon (Giancarlo Esposito) crumbled disappointly away into nothing much, the last 15 minutes of the final episode had me slack jawed in fan wonderment. I felt 9 years old again, and I loved it! I had been amazingly lucky not to stumble upon spoilers, I guess. Amazing ending, and all faults forgiven for that unforgettable moment and feel. Wonderful stuff!
To say any more, again, is to spoil. So, let’s just talk about it privately, or, you know, in about a year when season 3 is over and it is old news. Hmmm, season 3…? I wonder where they will take that now…? Actually, properly exciting, in a back in the playground kind of way.
The Mandalorian is definitely for all Star Wars fans, but it is mostly for the kids that never grew up and need those details of “the canonical Star Wars” universe in their lives. And there are plenty of them. It is a geek’s wet dream! With chat rooms and fan sites going wild in debate and argument over the smallest of Easter eggs and hints to connections across the medium. As if this is a lost historical document that sheds light on the truth of many characters and events, that until now were shrouded in darkness and speculation only.
I find that phenomenon weird and a little creepy, but I do appreciate where it comes from. For me, I am merely glad it isn’t crap. It is nice to be in the Star Wars universe without holding your face in your hands for shame of lazy storytelling and moments that shit on the spirit of the original trilogy. The first thing that pleased me about The Mandolorian is how close it is in feel to the old school trilogy. In fact it surprised me, because, despite the very modern effects and full budget of Disney behind it, it feels very old fashioned, like a TV show from around 1986, maybe. And I wonder how they have achieved that every time I watch it. It has an intangible magic about it.
In fact, the feel of the show as a whole is often a little cheap, shockingly – the posters and toys and all associated media is as glossy and crisp as all money can afford, creating an image of the show that isn’t actually what the show is. In reality it is a cross between old spaghetti westerns, with The Mandalorian cast as The Man With No Name, and episodes of The A-Team or Knightrider. I kinda like it; very nostalgic, and a smart move by Jon Favreau and the other show-runners. It appeals to middle aged audiences and new alike, because it is a knowing hybrid of all things cool and nerdy!
Design-wise, the look of The Mandalorian himself is perfect fan bait and very cool. The music goes a long way to drawing you in – Ludwig Göransson, known for his work on Black Panther and Tenet, has hit on a career defining theme that blends Clint Eastwood and Star Wars in perfect harmony. I can’t imagine the show working half as well without that theme music! The spaceships and detail of every alien and weapon and costume is meticulous (if at times a little wobbly or cheap looking), and the wider feel of background and tertiary characters is pretty damn good.
But, let’s face it… The Mandalorian is the success it has been predominantly for one reason. I could give him his real name, but if you haven’t finished it yet that would count as a huge spoiler, so I will refer to him as The Child. The temptation to use the phrase Baby Yoda is hard to resist, and has been a cultural phenomenon that only comes along once or twice in a decade, but on this I agree with the fans: it is inaccurate and misleading. The Child is fine. It’ll do until you learn his true moniker.
In season one, where the build up of story, character and mystery is superb, we see very little of The Child at first. But we cannot take our eyes off him for every second he is on screen. The whole concept is so beyond cute and incredibly strong as a hook for a Star Wars story it is almost impossible not to squeal out loud at everything he does. Who is he? Why is he? What is he capable of? How will he fit in to the longterm idea for the story? So exciting, and total genius to keep everyone watching.
It isn’t all about The Child on his own though. It is about the unlikely symbiotic bond, like father and son, that develops between the tiny, vulnerable and childlike focal point, and the increasingly confident and loyal antihero, who will stop at nothing to protect his ward, as he struggles to find his own place in the universe. After a very short time, we care more about this relationship than 90% of all romances in all of TV history.
Through danger, mayhem and a touch of comedy, we grow to adore the two of them together, and can’t bear to think of them being apart. Some trick when you realise The Child is as much a mini-muppet style prosthetic as it is added CGI for expression and detail. Perhaps another callback to our 80s sensibilities, when we accepted ETs and Gremlins and all of the residents of Mos Eisley’s cantina as real without hesitation. It doesn’t have to look real, is the point, as long as it fits the story, is cool and is fun! Which The Child totally is – for entertainment value they have got the tone of the show so right.
What doesn’t hold up that strongly to critical scrutiny though is quite a lot of the scripts, the repetitive nature of the context of many episodes and missions the duo find themselves on, the mismatch quality of the guest directors abilities, and quite a lot of the dodgy acting by supporting characters. It’s as if at some production meeting at one early point they all said, look it’s Star Wars, we make the aliens and the spaceships and the weapons look good and we can’t fail… plus we have The Child and Boba Fett’s (yes, I know) armour, we can’t fail!
The basic storyline is enough to hook it on, just about, it is the detail that sometimes feels weak and lazy. But don’t worry, any minute something cool to look at and a big fight will happen, so we’re all good! I’m sure Pedro Pascal (the actor under the armour) can’t believe his luck! He is one of the biggest stars in TV all of a sudden, for basically doing a fairly monotone voice-over performance of some seriously dodgy dialogue. That is the magic of Star Wars.
So, I came to season one late, having no access at that time to Disney plus. In fact, I watched all of season one in a day the day before the launch of season two, so the switch to a new episode to look forward to suited me well. It gave me something to look forward to on a Friday between Halloween and Christmas. Trouble was that, although still having fun with the exploits of The Kid, I was starting to weary of the plotlines, and put my viewing on hold after S2E4 in favour of the far superior scripting of His Dark Materials on BBC.
I must have needed the hiatus, because when I came back to mop it up and finish season two a few days ago I realised that I had in fact missed it. It also helped that episode 5 onwards is when the season gets really good again. Rosario Dawson as Ashoka Tano (known well by fans of The Clone Wars) was a truly great addition that the show much needed by that point.
I had no trouble after that in bingeing to the end. You could feel a climax and a revelation coming, and although the character of Moff Gideon (Giancarlo Esposito) crumbled disappointly away into nothing much, the last 15 minutes of the final episode had me slack jawed in fan wonderment. I felt 9 years old again, and I loved it! I had been amazingly lucky not to stumble upon spoilers, I guess. Amazing ending, and all faults forgiven for that unforgettable moment and feel. Wonderful stuff!
To say any more, again, is to spoil. So, let’s just talk about it privately, or, you know, in about a year when season 3 is over and it is old news. Hmmm, season 3…? I wonder where they will take that now…? Actually, properly exciting, in a back in the playground kind of way.