dramatic arc of the falling/
rising actor (though, spoiler
alert, he gets to work with
Sergio Corbucci, on the
advice of an agent played by
Al Pacino). Once Upon a
Time... in Hollywood sets the
scene for historical events to
step in, but the constant
oddly enough becomes
Pitt’s Cliff, once a hothead
trailed by horrible rumors,
and now an affably resigned
guy who shares his home
with a cuddly pitbull he
lingers over feeding chunks
of canned food. With DiCaprio encouraged (or not needing
much encouragement) to stick to the confines of playing the
insecure actor, Pitt as his loyal second is allowed to shine with a
positive sunset glow to match the warm colors of the photogra-
phy (less lurid than its key art). Not seeming to mind his cir-
cumstances, the star, at his best in years and hitting a wondrous
stride, settles so comfortably into the role of a supportive
shadow that you do believe Cliff might prefer it.
It’s Cliff who walks into the lion’s den, the almost too-ready-
for-essayizing Spahn Ranch: the former location for some down-
at-heel shoots, and home to the most lurid B-movie of them all,
that of Charles Manson and his followers. It’s a curdled alternate
world where Cliff discovers owner and past acquaintance George
Spahn (an ornery, apparently immortal Bruce Dern), blind but
living in a state of contentment and denial about his tenants.
Cliff ’s visit is a refraction of the high-profile intersections that
Manson would indeed have with a starry milieu he could notaccess. (The same frustration lights one fuse in Mary Harron’s
Charlie Says: a visit by an unimpressed music agent leaves Manson
unrecognized, and seething.) Cliff has to lay down some law at the
ranch and leave, but the wishful simplicity of the heroism doesn’t
detract from the strength of a film shaped and scaled and paced
with largely unostentatious aplomb (and hopefully not to be
adversely altered by the rumored potential of a pre-release edit). In
its knitting together of Rick/Cliff/Tate and letting Cliff come into
his own as a character, Tarantino works at a high level of pure nar-
rative satisfaction, patient craft over showmanship, recalling the
confident and moving achievement of Jackie Brown.
Where then does that leave the so far unspoiled ending? And is
there a touch of Rick-like anxiety in Tarantino’s public hand-
wringing over fellow movie-lovers ruining his creative mojo? The
injunction turns critics into Tarantino characters, talking around
and around to delay the next twist, and in so doing building it up.
Well, by way of beginning... it’s usually said that history repeats
itself. And certainly in our current so-called reality, it feels that
way, with the country locked in a political time warp replaying the
cynical antagonisms of (newly inaugurated in 1969) Nixon’s
revanchist runs, not to mention the Hobermanian nightmare of
having a bad actor for a president (another one). And frankly, the
more I’ve thought about the world Tarantino creates—and re-cre-
ates—in the first two hours of Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood,
the less significant the knowledge of the film’s ending has felt, even
with its true-to-Tarantino cage match of fact and fiction.
After all, the spirit behind the film is that the spoiler already
happened—out there. And the irony is that the expected Manson
reckoning and how it affects our good buddies on screen neither
ruins the film nor surpasses the warmth that came before. The
inevitable climax has nothing on the wistful feeling that lingers
when the dust clears. And within minutes, it’s just another story
AL to tell the neighbors.
L^ P
HO
TO
S^
BY
A
ND
RE
W
C
O
OP
ER
©
2
01
9
CT
M
G,
IN
C.
July-August 2019| FILMCOMMENT| 29With DiCaprio encour-
aged (or not needing
much encouragement)
to stick to the confines
of playing the insecure
actor, Pitt as his loyal
second is allowed to
shine with a positive
sunset glow to matchthe warm colors (^) of the
photography.