Tarantino is back – / Movie

It's harder than usual to talk about Quentin Tarantino's latest film, Once upon a time … in Hollywood, without spoiling much the power of the film. It is a work that draws much of its power from surprise and the way it is willing to stand out from the historical archives so that some may find bold and others unsettling. After all, Manson's murders were real, the events took place and no movie, as wide or as maniacal as this one, can in any way erase that fact. Yet in three glorious hours, Tarantino imagines something very different from the events of 1969.

Without delving into the differences, it is essential to recognize what the film does and does brilliantly, it refers to what the murders of Manson and the period in which they occurred. This is not a superficial overview of a group of rabid hippies. and the violence they have committed, but rather is rather the story of the wild and creeping societal changes that the late 1960s represent.

The film focuses mainly on Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio), a cowboy actor who has seen his prospects dwindle as his star shatters. Stuck playing the bad guy to other beginners, a position that speaks metaphorically and literally to the old stars of the Hollywood system, the Western genre, and a multitude of other thematic elements that directly echo what Dalton's journey represents. His pilot / stuntman is Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), whose past is even more complicated. Yet he seems to survive with effervescent and intoxicating confidence.

The two friends are protesting against some of the changing customs that are unfolding. Booth seems open to this world, but the scars, both literal and metaphorical, recall a past that can not be forgotten. For Dalton, his skills are not enough for him to be the center of attention unless he goes to other shores, a sad sign that taste and fashion mean more than skill.

In simple terms, this association is simply beautiful. They are two of the best actors of this generation or any other generation, and given this fleshy dialogue, these stunning character beats and the decor braggart, they are at the top of the game. Neither of them has been better, and you are witnessing really special performances captured for our enjoyment. Pitt's terse air and DiCaprio's swagger maniac combine to form an immediately iconic couple.

The rest of the cast is superb, up to the smaller roles, including Damian Lewis in a shining moment like Steve McQueen, Al Pacino as an impertinent agent, Emile Hirsch in Jay Sebring, a brilliant piece between Kurt Russell and Zoe Bell, and even Luke Perry in what is probably his last role. Tim Olyphant is doing his Deadwood best member of Dalton's cast, and Bruce Dern also plays an important but tough role in a particularly sinister part of the film.

Sharon Tate by Margot Robbie is visually perfect, and although she is not the center of the story, there are absolutely electrifying moments, letting the luminance of the actor shine through with his own insecurities. Dakota Fanning's "Squeaky" Fromme's attitude is particularly haunting, and "Tex" Watson of Austin Butler, another member of the Manson family, plays this "tough guy" role.

Mike Moh plays Bruce Lee, which is one of the highlights of this film. The link with Tate is obvious (he choreographed for The crew in demolition, film that plays a major role in Tarantino's screenplay), but it's his fight with Cliff that gives the film one of its most glorious stupid beats.

Fred Raskin's editing is exceptional, letting all these myriads flow with only a minimum of (amusing) narration provided by Russell. The development of each element has time to breathe, which is particularly difficult considering the number of moods presented.

Full sections of the film are dedicated to the recreation of different genres as we watch Rick and his career. Even the tonal changes of the West are experienced, highlighting not only an aesthetic but also the performative scale that the epoch represents.

The design of the production is breathtaking and Robert Richardson's photographs, projected onto Tarantino's favorite 35 mm film, have a fuzzy and softened look, with shades of color. There is a balance between a documentary-like precision and a sudden abandonment of adherence to the facts of the past, which governs much of the film's power, aspects (as with Django Unchained, or especially Basterds without glory) that will delight and disgust the public to the same extent.

The essential thing is to give up expectations based on a historical past while arousing the interest and power of the horror of these events. It's a delicate dance, and some can be pushed back. But given the attention to presentation, the great motives for exploration and the way the most reckless reinvention seems to be well-deserved, there are many things to admire.

The soundtrack is the trademark of Tarantino – there are fewer deep cuts here, but with a soundscape of the late 1960s and a large production budget, great songs are selected. Of particular note is the inclusion of a piece written by Charles Manson. For some, it will be appalling, but it is this connection even with the music industry (through, among others, Dennis Wilson) and the film industry (through the abandoned ranch in which the family went installed) that illustrates the fundamental metaphor that Manson and his followers have long represented.

Manson and his team laid bare the chaos of the hippie movement for a kind of conservative America. However, look at Tate's feet when she takes off her boots, and the soles are also covered with the same mud, they are soiled even while climbing over them. For those who fetish freedom, there is another dark horror, where the very violence that must be perpetrated can be reflected.

Of course, the film dribbles with nostalgia, even compared to Tarantino's previous films – look at a LAX shot that echoes Jackie Brown openly and there is a cry for yet another character called Vega. Yet, in many ways, it's the most modern and accomplished of his films, the culmination of all pastiches to form a love letter to the past and a speculative fiction of what could have been.

Time will tell if the general public believes that the film commemorates or exploits the horrors of 1969 and its victims, but when the film is at its best, it is fueled by these two impulses. It's a damn myth industry as much as it's a love letter to Tate and his friends. The film describes her with such delicacy and sensitivity that it's hard not to feel the sense of her loss.

Once upon a time … in Hollywood is a beautiful, frisky rumination about the filth and beauty that Hollywood represents and the real effects of its fabrication of the myth. The film is a dirty achievement sensually realized with many sensualized foot plans (you guessed it). Time will tell if this is Tarantino's greatest work, but it incorporates so many things that have made this brave filmmaker provocative, awesome, obnoxious and brilliant that it's hard not to get overwhelmed. Detractors will choose it as indulgent and infuriating, and even fans may feel overwhelmed. The humanity that reigns here is profound, with respect to the scenario of an aging actor, an aging industry, and an aging director, all of which end in a ridiculous, deep, silly, and sublime modern myth.

/ Movie Rating: 9.5 out of 10

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