This is the city of dreams, the City of Angels. People here experience personal hell only when their dreams of making big on the screen are crushed and should not be by any other way. This is the city built on hopes and aspirations, more so after 40's when the city became synonymous with the movie and, post 50s, the TV industry. Sunshine all through the year, sunny sides up - faces and attitudes, sea sides, sands, Malibu - with so much brightness around, darkness dare not creep into the city except after hours. Sadism and cruelty do go hand in hand here, of course, but more by the way of oppression, bitching, oppurtunism, sexism and other such human follies and foibles. Angelinos are blessed in every which way - flourishing economy, opportunities galore and celebrity sighting at every turn...And that's how the powers that be at Hollywood hills would want to project their city. Though with abundance of money and power, the other deadly sins aren't far behind. Booze, gambling, racketeering, prostitution, (and once the medicinal benefits and economic potential of poppy crop were discovered down south) blow soon pervaded the place where cash was flush and minds were weak and controlling every aspect of each vice, the underworld. Come on, that's just every major successful city in the world, where crime is in direct proportionality to prosperity. But Los Angeles is special, where more stars walk on ground than are visible in the smog filled night sky. And on such hallowed ground....mass murder? and that too, of its own royalty? Barbaric....of historical proportions....
Enter Tarantino, who is currently walking the earth like David Carradine in the TV show Kung-Fu correcting and rewriting historical injustices of the mankind, even if on celluloid. Nazism, a historical blunder, Slavery, a historical plunder, Racism, historical and topical, and from the looks of it, eternal even ....But Celebrity Murder somewhere in hills of Hollywood, even if it was of an actress who embodied the spirit of LA LA Land - blonde, sunny and cheerful, and what if a wife to a celebrated director who was on a roll with critical and commercial successes....ok, also 9 months pregnant? Tarantino deems, 'Why not!'. If the murder of real royalty could spark a world war, then shouldn't the murder of celebrity royatly deserve at least a movie revisionism? Tarantino feels a moral responsibility and a professional obligation to train his sights on this gruesome murder and give it the proper Quentin treatment of poetic (and prose) justice, in much the same way as he took Nazism, slavery and racism by their horns and wrestled them to the ground. As that deep baritone voice in the erstwhile movie trailers used to say, "....this time it is PERSONAL!"
"Once upon a time in Hollywood" is an ode, a homage, a love letter to the area during the late 60's. From the (incredible) set decoration to transform entire street togethers to look the era of the yore, to the omnipresent soundtrack on the radio playing songs, commercials and public announcements in a never ending loop, from the look behind the curtain of the TV productions on the studio lots, to capturing the fading glory of genre productions (cowboy shows, in this case), "Once...." is at once steeped in nostalgia, as the entire city (through the expert eye of Robert Richardson) is bathed in nothing but soft focus, and the only rough edges seem to be of personal nature, of actors struggling hard to latch on to the last rides of their careers as the train of taste and culture seem to be gaining on them with each passing day. Though it appears as though the seed of the movie started off with the Charlie Manson murders in mind, Tarantino decides that his knight in shining armor, to come to the resuce of the dainty royalty, should literally be the one who is currently riding off into the sunset, the Cowboy (genre). The mere idea of marrying these two diverse and disparate events alone is worth tipping the hat over. "Once...." serves as as good companion piece to P.T. Anderson's "Boogie Nights", in that both movies are elegies to a bygone era, and more particularly to a film industry, the ways and means, standards and practices of it, while producing a particular genre - one Western and the latter, porn.
As Tarantino matures, he is gravitating more towards plot-less (or plot-light) fares with all the effort and the emphasis placed entirely on the craft. The strings of the puppetry are clearly evident, may be by design. His indulgences are becoming stronger and deeper, as he sets out unfolding the game baring all his cards upfront. There is nothing left to imagination here (in just the same way, as each back story in the movie is brought to life) as he lets his (masterful) words spell out each and everything. And that is currently the draw of Tarantino, not the plots, not the twists, not the drama, not the story, but his treatment.... How is he not going to let the hippies cut open his beloved starlet, if it were up to him? How he is not going to let the Nazi bastards get away with all the crimes against the humanity? How is he going to avenge such a subhuman treatment of a fellow human being in the name of race? Tarantino has long moved past the "What", he is now all about the "How". And once that payoff comes up (like in "Once...") it is a hoot, a holler, a full throated cry, a whole-hearted cheer. Like the Critereon Collection treatment for vintage movies, a list of historial absurdities, inequities and incongruities need to handed out to him with the express purpose of providing catharsis to the populace who cannot come to terms with the jarring notes in human history. Tarantino's indulgence is a now a humanitarian mission and "Once upon a time in Hollywood" is no exception.
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