The Emperor has no clothes

Rating: 4/10 (2 June 2020)

Once upon a time in Hollywood, there was a famed Director-Emperor who mainly based his movies on violence. Sometimes he combined it with a pinch of humour ("Pulp Fiction", "Django Unchained"). He carefully selected his soundtracks; maybe he should have become a D.J... As for substance, there was none.
Rhythm and editing looked masterly, yet chiefly relied on violence. Nonlinear plots were praised, even though they were no innovation by far. Spirit seemed offbeat, whilst actually violence had become mainstream since long (Peckinpah, De Palma, Scorsese, John Woo, spaghetti westerns, etc.). Depiction of violence was deemed entertaining, however it was complacent and morally dubious. Style looked cool, but resembled video-clips'. Overall, if his movies were no better or worse than many Hollywood action pictures, they rapidly became cult, demonstrating that haemoglobin and flashy style always are easy pleasers.
Despite his box-office hits, our Director was sometimes melancholic. He longed to prove he was an accomplished director not limited to a genre; he wanted to do something different, a movie without much bloodshed: yes, a real opus with content and not just form. He could do it! So he directed "Jackie Brown" in 1997, and fans realised the Emperor had no clothes: without violence, it had nothing to show. Hence he afterwards reverted to the same good old gorish style.
The vision of content still lingered in his mind, though. Time was getting short: he had promised he would only direct ten movies in his career. According to his own account, he directed eight before 2019 (more by other accounts, but we would not want to be deprived of additional masterpieces, would we?). Hence the next one, his ninth, had to be the good one! (He could afterwards crown his career with what he could do best, an apotheosis of unrestrained brutality.) He had a plan; he would not make the same mistake as for "Jackie Brown", where setting was contemporary: he would direct a period movie, depicting the past and actual persons to miraculously generate content. So he directed "Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood". And the Emperor was naked again.

There is no rhythm, since there is practically no violence to support it. The movie drags on and on and on for 2h40. Scenes are uselessly long: Sharon watches the film she plays in; Cliff goes to Spahn Ranch; Rick plays in "Lancer" series. The latter does not show anything about directing; it is not interesting; it is barely parodic; it is not funny. Even some short scenes make no sense, for instance Rick and his wife unboarding the plane: what is the point of the slow motion? If the movie were cut down by a full hour, it would not be radically different. By contrast, the most memorable part is the carnage at the end, reviving Tarantino's good old style with energy and macabre farce. Spot on.

There is no consistent story, rather a succession of scenes. It would be fine if there were some substance, but there is none, as opposed to good pictures about Hollywood as we will see.

There is no insight about Hollywood, as opposed to Sunset Blvd. (1950) or The Player (1992) or Trumbo (2015). Location and era are just a background, a pretext to make a period movie. Granted, there are references to Hollywood pictures, including Tarantino's, but without much purpose.

There is no historical accuracy since the so-called "Manson family" is depicted as a bunch of pathetic amateurs failing their mission, instead of dangerous killers. What is the point of a ludicrous ending instead of showing compassion for five actual victims (of which an eight-month pregnant woman)? Actually, Tarantino is not interested by history, as show "Inglourious Basterds" and "Django Unchained" which deform grave events (WWII, slavery): at best, they would be uchronias. Some call it artistic licence, I call it lack of respect.

There is no character depth, as opposed to The Bad and the Beautiful (1952) or The Big Knife (1955) or The Last Tycoon (1976). Rick feels his career is behind him and... well, that's it. We don't know anything else about him, nor do we about all other characters. Many are based on actual persons, but we learn very little about their life.

There is little humour, as opposed to The Artist (2011) or Hail, Caesar! (2016). Some dialogues are funny, but spread over such a long time, they represent an average of one every half hour.

There is a stretched racist scene whereby a stupid arrogant Asian (Bruce Lee) makes a fool out of himself and then is ridiculed by a smart strong white man (Cliff). It is aggravated by the fact Mike Moh is the only non-white actor of the plethoric cast, which already says something about the movie (for info: there were ethnic minorities in 1969 USA). Tarantino is not racist, but the scene, intentionally or not, certainly is; anyone who does not believe so is probably not Asian. A typical mistake from a director who does not really think about the potential impact of his work. As a side note, if Cliff is just a stuntman, he does not stand the slightest chance against Bruce Lee; he might be a martial arts expert, but since we don't know anything about him, we cannot tell.

So "Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood" slowly flows by. It is not terrible, just mediocre: without violence, nothing stands out. Interestingly, it not only exposes its own downsides, but by contrast Tarantino's other movies' main deficiency: over-reliance on easy violence as a fig leaf for lack of substance.
I don't have an issue with action pictures, as long as they are technically and ethically decent (which to be fair Tarantino's partly are), and are not taken for more than what they stand for: entertainment. But I have trouble understanding why Tarantino should be praised more than other directors of the genre. And I do have an issue with unnecessary, complacent and dubious depiction of brutality. Fortunately "Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood" is Tarantino's ninth movie: one more and he will be relieved from his promise. As will we.
PS: Apologies to Tarantino fans for this firm review, even though I refrained from expanding upon Tarantino's decades-long passivity in the Weinstein affair.