It all was Always Leading to This, wasn't it?

Rating: 9/10 (9 August 2019)

Once Upon A Time... in Hollywood, is the 9th (and presumably penultimate) film from Quentin Tarantino and at this point in his career, you kind of know what you're expecting. A cast filled to the brim with character actors, and modern day movie stars, a 60s LA Rock soundtrack, and more movie references than you can shake a stick at. And while, yes on the one hand, you get exactly what you'd expect, it's delivered in a way that he hasn't even attempted since Jackie Brown.
There is not much story to speak of: Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a former television star now suffering a mid-life/career slump after a failed forays into movies. His only comforts are his best friend and long-time stuntman Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), who in many respects has it worse than Rick due to an incident involving the death of his wife some years before, and the fantasy that his next door neighbors Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) and Roman Polanski will invite him over one night and relaunch his career.
Before the inevitable third act blood-fest, the film is ostensibly a hangout movie, following Rick, Cliff, and Sharon throughout a day in 1969 LA. The scenes are more of a vehicle for Tarantino to get in all his favorite parts about pre-70s LA into one film. KHJ radio, cineramas, and old TV Procedurals.
It feels almost redundant to go through every Name in this movie, but all I can say is, I can only imagine half the budget went to paying their quotes. But I feel the need to call special attention to Al Pacino as Marvin Schwarz, Julia Butters as a child actress on Lancer, and Dakota Fanning as Squeaky, none of whom are in the film for more than ten minutes each, but give some of the most committed performances of the cast. Another standout is Margaret Qualley as Pussycat, who goes from alluring to annoying to downright repulsive by the end of her stint with Brad Pitt.
There are the obvious cameos like Timothy Olyphant's James Stacy, Mike Moh's Bruce Lee, and Nicholas Hammond's Sam Wanamaker (sporting a beautiful white turtle neck) that pop up every now and again. This is coupled with the cameos of Tarantino's favorites from back in the day (play I Spy and try to spot Clu Gulager, Bruce Dern, Ramón Franco, James Remar, and Rebecca Gayheart...to name a few) all come together to round out a spectacular ensemble cast.
But the focus is kept where it should be: on Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt, who are at the top of their game. They are committed, they are here for it, and are so damn fun to watch. The mood is infectious and by the end of it you want to buy a pack of smokes and hit the road with a pal. Brad Pitt specifically plays the most fully realized character, and the anchor of the film. The scene when he finally arrives on Spahn Movie Ranch is Tarantino at his best, amping up the tension every passing second.
This really is Pitt's movie, he's as cool as Steve McQueen, as breezy as John Wayne, and as hard to hit as Bruce Lee. He is comfortable with himself, and where he is in life. He is unburdened by the same delusions of grandeur that his best friend Rick is. All he wants out of life is to maybe get back to working as a stuntman, but if that's impossible, a life spent with his best friend and dog isn't a bad alternative.
There is a moment where Kurt Russel reveals to the audience that Pitt "killed his wife", though it is not confirmed either way what validity that statement has. It's an aside, one of those unsolved Hollywood mysteries like: How did Natalie Wood actually drown? Even with this information, though, you are resolute in liking Cliff Booth.
The film is not without its faults: the most major one being Rick Dalton. Not Leonardo DiCaprio's performance, which most certainly elevates it, but the character as written. He has a lot in common with Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction, is he really cool? Or is the actor playing him cool? That is to say that Dalton's struggle is well established, and DiCaprio is committed to the role, but not as much time is given to him as a person as say Pitt's Cliff Booth.
Sharon Tate serves as more of an egregore, an embodiment of free-living 60s, where you picked up hitch-hikers and watched movies with your shoes off. It's clear what she represents to Tarantino: the living symbols of the Hollywood that is coming to an end. However, many will be put off by her lack of dialogue, even though it doesn't hinder her performance in any way: most audiences are hardwired to associate dialogue with character development.
I also can't help but feel that Jane and John Q. Public will be bored by the film, especially the two hour build-up to the forty minute punchline. Not to mention that with an increase of streaming services and Marvel movies, moving exposition ahead of atmosphere, the long strings of silence will undoubtedly unsettle many viewers.
Finally, let's talk about that punchline: If you don't know anything about Sharon Tate, Charles Manson, Tex Watson, and the Manson Family... I'm afraid this ending might be lost on you.
But all of these are minor nitpicks in the grand scheme. One can hardly complain when a filmmaker like Tarantino works at this level. He is the last filmmaker who makes films like this, and will probably be the last one for a very very long time. I can't imagine a young filmmaker in today's political climate pulling off what Tarantino pulls off.
A film that empowers it's female characters while also fetishizing them. A film that glorifies white macho men while also showing how pathetic they can be. A film which views the system it is presently working in as both meaningless and the only thing that really matters. An ending that is both the most feel good moment of the year, and the most dower ending of the year when reminded of the reality.
It really is the film that sums up Tarantino as a filmmaker the best. Self-indulgent, derivative, and flawed, but you've gotta look past all of it and see the gigantic heart behind it.