Regie:
Quentin TarantinoDrehbuch:
Quentin TarantinoKamera:
Robert RichardsonBesetzung:
Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, Margot Robbie, Emile Hirsch, Margaret Qualley, Timothy Olyphant, Julia Butters, Austin Butler, Dakota Fanning, Bruce Dern (mehr)Streaming (6)
Inhalte(1)
Los Angeles, 1969. Hollywood befindet sich im Umbruch. Der einst gefeierte Westernserien-Star Rick Dalton kann nur noch kleine Rollen ergattern. Seinem treuen Film-Double, dem Stunt-Man Cliff Booth, droht somit ebenso das Ende seiner Karriere. Dalton wird geraten, sein Glück bei Italo-Western-Produktionen in Europa zu versuchen, während die jungen, erfolgreichen Shooting-Stars Regisseur Roman Polanski und Schauspielerin Sharon Tate in seine Nachbarschaft ziehen. (ORF)
(mehr)Kritiken (21)
Man sollte sich wirklich vor Trolls in Acht nehmen – es ist ein netter und unterhaltsamer Film, bei dem man auf das ausgezeichnete Finale wartet, über welches man vorher nichts wissen möchte. Das Duo von Zuschauerlieblingen, das delikat jede Szene und jede Geste genießt (Brad hat letztendlich eine bessere Rolle als Leo), ist unterhaltsam. Nett ist auch die Darstellung des Filmemacher-Milieus und der bunten, positiven und sorglosen 60er Jahre in LA. Margot als Sharon Tate ist ein ultimativer blonder Engel, ein ausgewogener Kontrast zu ausgewählten Hippies aus Mansons Gang. Diese sind hingegen als das schlimmste Gesindel dargestellt und so geht man mit ihnen auch um (bravo Quentin – ein mutiger, frischer Wind der Inkorrektheit in dieser fucked up #MeeToo Zeit). Bei den Dialogen und bei der Bedeutung der einzelnen Szenen aus den Western von Rick Dalton (Leos Figur) im Kontext zum Film wirkt aber Tarantinos Kreativität ein bisschen müde. Ungefähr so wie der Cameoauftritt von Franco Nero in Django Unchained – die Anwesenheit ist angenehm, aber was die Dialoge betrifft, war es die schwächste Stelle im Film. Man könnte sogar sagen, dass sie gar keine Pointe hatte. Für Tarantinos Meisterwerk aus der letzten Zeit halten die meisten Inglourious Basterds oder Django Unchained (mein Fall). So eine Meisterleistung sollte man bei Once Upon A Time In Hollywood nicht erwarten. Aus qualitativer Sicht ist es eher wie The Hateful 8 in einer umgekehrten, göttlich entspannten Laune. Und mit einem TOLLEN Finale. [Cannes]
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Es ist, als würden wir feinschmeckerisch den Rauch einer filterlosen Zigarette inhallieren und ebenso lange dessen Ausatmen genießen. Man kommt dadurch nicht ins Husten, er wird einen nicht im Halse kratzen. Und gerade das ist eigentlich das einzige Problem, welches ich mit diesem "kalifornischen Traum" habe. Kenner von Tarantinos Werken werden bald erahnen, dass die Geschichte mal wieder umgeschrieben wird, wobei es diesmal alles andere als ein subversiver Spaß wie bei Inglorious Basterds ist. Die dreischichtige Erzählung (Schauspieler-Stuntman-Sharon Tate) zeugt nicht unbedingt von einer exakten Struktur wie bei The Hateful 8, sondern es handelt sich um eine episodische Sammlung an Geschichten von Drehplätzen sowie verzauberten Erinnerungen an ausgestorbene Neonlichter. Es ist nunmal so, dass Once Upon a Time in Hollywood nicht gerade Tarantinos Top-Film ist, was allerdings nicht bedeutet, dass ich nach der Beendigung des Films nicht verrückt nach dem schiefen Lächeln von Cliff Booth sein und die 162 Minuten durch drei teilen würde, denn gerade so schnell verläuft die Geschichte. Zeitgleich werden Sie der Verlockung, diesen Film nochmals zu sehen, nicht lange widerstehen obwohl Sie die Pointe bereits kennen werden...
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Ich bin kein typischer Tarantino-Zuschauer, ich mag aus seinem Portfolio eigentlich nur Sin City. Ich bin nicht scharf auf verstärkte Spaßgewalt, aber ich bin auch nicht scharf auf endlose Dialoge mit fiktiven Verweisen auf die Popkultur. Once Upon A Time In Hollywood ist ein ideales Märchen . Und gerade deshalb ideal, weil er sich von den bisherigen Posen-Filmen unterscheidet. Es gibt kein unnötiges Gerede, die amüsante Gewalt dauert nur einen Moment und ergibt sogar Sinn, was fast unglaublich ist. Das Verhältnis zwischen der dargestellten Epoche und ihrer Darstellung ist ideal. Es handelt sich nicht um eine leere Parodie des amerikanischen Fernsehens der 1950er Jahre und des Endes einer Hollywood-Ära (der Weggang nach Europa ist typisch für die langen Nachkriegsjahre). Es vermischt auf magische Weise die Realität mit neuen Akzenten, alles auf der Grundlage einer bewussten Hommage an ein Phänomen, das vielleicht keine so ernsthafte Interpretation verdient. Alles ist an seinem Platz, sogar Walt Disney wird erwähnt. Leonardo und Brad gehen auf Nummer sicher und jede Geste, jedes Lächeln wirkt. Es ist eine Freude, Zeit mit ihnen zu verbringen. Verschiedene Gaststars, wie der verstorbene Luke Perry und Stunt-Veteranin Zoë Bell, dienen als Augenweide. Und natürlich ist das große Thema Margot Robbie als Sharon Tate Polanski (die gerade Hardys "Tess" zu Ende gelesen hat), einer der vielen vergesslichen Stars, die durch die Dummheit von Mansons Bande von Idioten unvergesslich wurden. Ihr Fall ist heute etwas ganz anderes und hat viele andere Filme und Bücher inspiriert, denn der Schock über ihr Martyrium hat in diesen 50 Jahren wirklich nachgewirkt. Kürzlich wurde das gesamte Thema unter anderem in der 7. Staffel von American Horror Story: Cult behandelt. Tarantinos Umgang mit dem Thema ist berührend schön. So etwas hätte ich nie von ihm erwartet.
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Super Figuren, eine super Stimmung und ein wirklich extrem – sagen wir mal – gerechtes Finale. Es ist wahrscheinlich Tarantinos erster Film, der mich zum Nachdenken bewogen hat und der mich wirklich gerührt hat. Er rechnet aber damit, dass das Publikum wenigstens etwas über Sharon Tate und Mansons Gang weiß. Sonst kann ich mir nicht vorstellen, dass mich Once Upon A Time In Hollywood so beeindruckt hätte. Ich freue mich wirklich sehr darauf, den Film noch einmal zu sehen. Dann werde ich mich bei manchen schwer beschreibbaren Szenen amüsieren.
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Ich bin kein eingefleischter Tarantino-Fan, aber wegen des Themas und der hervorragenden Besetzung wollte ich mir Once upon a Time In... Hollywood im Kino nicht entgehen lassen. Tarantinos neunter Spielfilm ist ein großer Film über das Kino, der uns auf seine ganz eigene Art und Weise in die 1960er Jahre zurückführt, über die sieben Berge und sieben Flüsse hinaus, direkt zur Wiege des Kinos - ins berühmte Hollywood. Mir gefiel das unkonventionelle Konzept, mit Schauspielern zu arbeiten, und die Funktion des Erzählers, der die Handlung kommentierte - vor allem am Ende des Films, wohin das Ganze führte. Das Ende selbst hat mich ziemlich mitgenommen - man weiß ja, was im August 1969 passiert ist, und ich muss zugeben, dass Tarantino es auf überraschende Weise verarbeitet hat, wofür er von mir definitiv einen Daumen hoch bekommt. Obwohl das Tempo des Films recht langsam ist, habe ich mich trotzdem nicht gelangweilt - am meisten haben mich die Szenen von den Dreharbeiten im Salon, die Konfrontation mit Bruce Lee, der Besuch der Familie und natürlich das Ende interessiert. Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt und Margot Robbie haben großartige Leistungen erbracht und jeder von ihnen hat seine Rolle sehr überzeugend gespielt. Darüber hinaus muss ich die kleine, aber sehr wichtige Rolle von Brandy erwähnen. Ich glaube, wenn ich ein perfektes Wissen über die Filmgeschichte der 60er Jahre in HW gehabt hätte, hätte ich mich sicher in all den Anspielungen gesuhlt, aber ich habe es trotzdem genossen ... Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind, dann leben sie noch heute dort!
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By far this is the best movie by the video store freak since Jackie Brown, not least because it doesn't resemble a classic Tarantino film, and because the great Quentin kind of surpassed all his bloodthirsty movies. Those who expected the typical gory carnage, got mature filmmaking, where Tarantino works sparingly with the pace, doesn't rush anywhere, caresses every scene, every line (the scenes with Sharon Tate in the cinema, or the wise little girl are the best). In the very end, however, Quentin unfortunately breaks free from his chain and in the (literally) explosive finale he shows us all that the good old morbid man is behind the camera after all, just so we don't forget. Pomo here says the finale was wonderful, for me it was the weakest link in an otherwise great film. Finally, a quick note: it would be good to have at least some awareness of who Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate are (were), and their influence on late 60s pop culture. Not like the cow in the cinema next to me who at the end said: “What was that blond girl doing there? She was pointless!” PS: Those beautiful Rick Dalton posters had the exact same graphic feel as the posters for the spaghetti westerns available on Wrong Side of the Art. Yeah, and it's too bad I'm straight, otherwise I'd hang a poster of Brad Pitt from this movie on my bedroom wall :o)
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As Tarantino stated in an interview with Time magazine, “I thought, we don’t need a story. They're the story.” It does not matter at all that Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is less spectacular that Tarantino’s previous films (with the exception of Jackie Brown, with which it shares a slow pace, melancholic mood and greater focus on the characters). More than on perfectly timed jokes, memorable one-liners, unexpected twists and building tension in long sequences, the film relies on the characters’ emotions (or what – like Sharon Tate – they symbolise), construction of a fictional world, the period atmosphere and the actors’ charisma. At the same time, it has an inventive three-act structure that serves well both as an evocation of the late 1960s in Los Angeles and another of Tarantino’s discussions over film/real violence and cinema as a means of living multiple lives in parallel and bringing that which has perished back to life. SPOILERS FOLLOW! From great details to greatness as a whole. From a poster-boy hero to a hero who saves actual lives. From Nazisploitation to exploitation inspired by the Manson Family. A recollection of an era when American films became more artsy (The Graduate, Easy Rider) under the influence of European cinema and more violent under the influence of the Vietnam War and turmoil on the streets (Bonnie and Clyde, The Wild Bunch). Tarantino’s use of those techniques (for example, jump cuts and long, hopeless drives as in films of the French New Wave) recalls the given period not only through music, set design and costumes, but also in formal terms. Conversely, classic Hollywood is represented by two burnt-out cowboys who, like the long-serving bosses of the major studios, do not understand young “fucking hippies” and, in the narrative that is newly taking shape, are condemned to play the roles of villains, with which they have no intention of reconciling themselves. However, the end of their era is inevitable. The protagonist of the cowboy movie that Rick reads is taken out of action roughly halfway through the story due to a hip injury. Cliff is likewise injured at the end of the film. Thus, at the end of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, it seems that we are only halfway through Cliff and Rick’s story. Their fate is already sealed and though the conclusion of the film, while rectifying one tragedy, may seem to be a happy ending, we know that the heroes do not come out of it well (the fact that Trudi Fraser/Jodie Foster reads a biography of the, for her, brilliant Walt Disney, whose racism and anti-Semitism will begin to be addressed many years later, has a similar maliciousness). In my opinion, the key to the cohesiveness of the narrative and understanding of the story lies in the blending together or, more appositely, doubling of the individual planes of this fictional world and their relationship to actual historical events that play a significant role in shaping our expectations and emotional response. We see Sharon Tate as she was depicted in period promotional videos and photographs (the fact that someone is looking at her, amplifying her unreachability, is accentuated throughout the film, though particularly during the Playboy party, when McQueen comments on her from afar). In the only scene where Sharon herself is watching, we actually watch Margot Robbie, admiring her murdered acting colleague on the screen. Cliff, peculiarly behind the movie screen (of a drive-in cinema), represents a truer version of Rick, as he endures actual blows for Rick and does the work that makes it possible for him to exist in the world of film and television (if he hadn’t repaired the television antenna, they would not be able to watch Rick’s cameo at the FBI). The heroes exist through stories in which they also play stories told about them, which – this is essential for Tarantino’s narrative concept – we do not always know whether they are true (did Cliff kill his wife or not?). Lines delivered in the context of a role have an impact on what happens in the characters’ lives (Rick as DeCoteau tells Luke Perry’s character that he will send his man to his ranch – we subsequently see Cliff coming to Spahn Ranch). The climax of breaking down the boundaries between the real and the possible is Cliff’s encounter with a trio of murderers, whose genuineness he doubts under the influence of LSD. His dog, which is basically the only one that does not play any role, but just simply is (a dog), has no doubts and will do the lion’s share of the work in eliminating the intruders. The relationship between film and reality, the actor and his role, and violence and its representation in the media has always fascinated Tarantino, at least as much as women’s feet. This time, he plays with the transitions between one and the other perhaps even more ingeniously than ever before, and even after two viewings, I still do not feel (not by a long shot) that I would be able to grasp and uncover everything that the film has to offer. 90%
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(weniger)
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Hmm! Watching Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is a bit like when the proud parent of a newborn shows you an album full of pictures of their baby, gushing over it and expecting you’d gush too. But even though the photos are really nice, after a couple of pages it stops being fun, and you end up not giving a toss about the brat. Similarly, in his new film Tarantino gushes over the Hollywood of the 1960s, playing entire, often incredibly long scenes of old, mostly fictitious films that have nothing to do with anything that could be called a “plot”. And yeah, it’s nice, cute, atmospheric.. but, for someone who doesn’t care much about old Hollywood, it lasts too long. And this is not what I would love to see from Quentin. This is only masturbating over the atmosphere of the movies from the 60s, a time that is long gone. And on top of that, it’s almost without humour, which was the biggest surprise to me. The occasional efforts also fall pretty flat. For example, the scene with Bruce Lee was so incredibly stupid that I was embarrassed by it. There was a man sitting behind me in the cinema who laughed loudly for about two minutes and I just shook my head because there was really nothing to laugh about! I don’t know, this time Tarantino simply didn’t make a film for me. Only the scene at Spahn’s Ranch and the famous climax show what this film could’ve been if it’d really been “about the Manson Family”, as the reports of the new Tarantino movie said.
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Once Upon a Time in Hollywood may not be quite the movie for me. On the one hand, I appreciate that Quentin Tarantino can make a film that looks good, has great music, is nice to watch, and everyone who appears in front of the camera pushes themselves to the limit. In this case, however, we may not have completely met at the story. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood follows a bit in the footsteps of Inglorious Basterds, unfortunately, however, this time Tarantino is not making a variation or homage to a specific genre, but rather to a time and industry. And truthfully, I know more or less nothing about the television industry in 1960s America, and of the shows discussed here, I've heard of about one in three. Of course, I don't want to say that this is Tarantino's fault – he said himself that this film was going to be very personal to him and it shows. But in short, he's dealing with things I'm not familiar with, and frankly don't even care much about. I felt similarly "off" with his Jackie Brown years ago, because the blaxploitation subgenre didn't do anything for me either. As a result, with Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, I often sat in front of the screen and thought that what was going on was probably cool, it was based on something and referencing something, but since I don't know what it's referencing at all, I can't quite get into it. That's more my fault than the film itself, but the fact remains that I'll probably never watch it a second time.
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It’s Quentin Tarantino’s ninth film and nothing changed in his storytelling. It’s true that he tuned his hubris down a bit so we don’t see any 40-minute scenes with zero content, as was the case with The Hateful Eight. But it's still exactly the kind of movie you can expect from Tarantino. It‘s three hours long, with nothing happening for the first two hours, and the last 40 minutes are so full of suspense you will watch it with bated breath. Quentin strategically chose a new topic – Hollywood, but it’s actually just Pulp Fiction in a new coat. This movie seems likes Quentin Tarantino’s opus magnum. He portrays a period he obviously likes the most from Hollywood history – the Western era – and makes allusions to everything that comes to his mind. And he doesn’t care a bit if you like that era, have seen those movies or are their fan at all. He just does what he wants, and it fascinates me how much time and effort he had to invest in shooting scenes from various imaginary films, creating their posters and names. If nothing else, this makes Once Upon a Time in Hollywood a remarkable movie. Plus Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt are a pair of cool guys who can’t let Tarantino’s fans down. It still, however, seems just like a film where a group of actors meet to have some fun together, most of all Leo and Brad. You feel like you went to grab a beer with them, took a peek into their lives, and in the last part of the film you got to see some traditional Tarantino action, which is just as wild and brutal as we’re used to. In short, nothing new under the sun.
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The final scene is not based on previous events; it would work in the same way as a separate half-hour “what if" short story. For over two hours, it is hogwash without any direction and a patchwork of unnecessary scenes full of padding, which... are so finely tuned, well acted, funny and set in the time, while making a point and paying tribute that it's no wonder that one wishes to have more of them. Of course, however, there should have been a lot less of them. And if it had not been “from Hollywood lover Tarantino to Hollywood lover Tarantino" and had it mainly been more cohesive, then I would have left the cinema fully satisfied.
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Tarantino's worst film and one of the most tiring cinema experiences ever. There are only two things to praise about this film, namely the decent retro styling and the perfect performances of Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio, the rest is not even worth mentioning. Bruce Lee is in the film for two minutes and it's no wonder the daughter is upset for the travesty they put him on. Charles Manson is in the film for five seconds! (and it’s what the film was originally supposed to be about) And the alluring Margot Robbie is in the film for about eight minutes total. So more or less, it’s two and a half hours of bullshit about something that I don't give a shit about. But I don't care at all, and I could still get over the fact that Tarantino ditched the action, but to ditch the humour as well? Well, that deserves punishment. It's saved a little by the ending, which Pitt steals for himself, and at least in the last ten minutes Tarantino makes it clear that he's the director, but that’s not enough with a three-hour running time. My friends gave up on the film halfway through. This one passes me by. 40%
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The ever-increasing navel-gazing seemed to me to be a recipe for disaster. After the admirable Inglourious Basterds, Quentin Tarantino started flagging with Django Unchained, only to slightly overdo it with The Hateful Eight, saved only by the actors and a decent amount of tension. The prospect of another film lapping at the three-hour mark, this time around in tribute to golden era and voluntarily apologizing in advance for its disregard of the audience, therefore tempted me very cautiously. However, the biggest surprise lies in just how wrong I was. Instead of traditionally engaging in endless conversations, the author fragilely confesses his love in a hundred and one ways. Unlike many of his previous works, he does not brag about his own talent; he genuinely and solely pays tribute to the talent of others and wants nothing more than to return to the sixties, immerse himself in them, and simply experience that boundless enchantment with film and television that only early youth can bring. So even though the drawn-out running time seems like showing off in principle, partly because it only slightly and superficially expands on the genre (just try retelling the Sharon Tate storyline yourself), a smile came to my lips incredibly often. The almost playful idea of digging your claws into a beloved world or period, where you tell the story "your own way", could theoretically become a goal for countless other directors, but something tells me that many of them would blindly break their own teeth on it.
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After the merciless Django, I swore that I would finally finish with that old scoundrel and be able to stop taking pills for high blood pressure. But I am unteachable, and even two days after the screening, I feel like I'd entered the path of a car collision for the millionth time, thinking that this time I really won't feel any pain upon impact. No, Tarantino cannot disappoint....in about the same way that diarrhea or a migraine can't. He's still the same oversized and aging teenager refusing to grow up, a self-centered poser and seller of literal references to past junk. It's the same inability to work with characters and settings, build a story, and come up with a strong emotionally impactful point. I guessed the finale within a few minutes. Tarantino has terrible taste in the audience, which he projects into his films, and he works with references to genres that I couldn't care less about, and his concept of humor bypasses me completely. He's incapable of any complex metaphors, deeper work with material, time and mood, or social processes. He's a typical snake oil salesman. He doesn't go beneath the surface even by a millimeter, and nothing excuses him for not even intending to. I'm not at all surprised by the absurdly exaggerated violence, typically conceived as grotesque, the senselessly overblown runtime, nor the effort to be cool under any circumstances. The last Tarantino film that truly interested me was Jackie Brown, so why am I surprised? One star is for the top-notch camera work and a '60s soundtrack, as well as for the acting of DiCaprio and Pitt. Margot Robbie didn't get the opportunity to be anything other than a sexual ornament. Overall impression: 25%.
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Tarantino's linear homage to an era that doesn’t mean much to most Czechs. That doesn’t mean that it’s not fun. Even though Pitt and DiCaprio don't spend much time together on screen, the Dalton-Booth duo give an unbelievable performance. This is a Hollywood fairy tale through and through, in which Tarantino creates a better world through violence. Two hours might be a long time, but the director throws one entertaining scene after another at the viewer, accompanied by stylish, atmospheric music. A feelgood movie with a fantastic climax… I enjoyed even more the second time around. Thumbs up. Fuckin’ hippie motherfuckers.
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A film longer than a Nivea ad. I have nothing against the concept of Tarantino's films, I can survive its cynicism no matter the cost, the overblown running times, the often absurd scenes and the stories that are sometimes trashy just for effect, or at least about nothing, he is such a good storyteller and lover of the silver screen that he can be forgiven for many things. But this here things creak more than they should, because all the aforementioned elements are there, plus a strange hybrid between fiction and reality concerning the controversial murder of Sharon Tate. The juicy finale is thus entertaining cinematically, but completely out of step with the real events. It is still true, however, that Quentin likes under-the-counter scripts and can breathe life into his characters like few others. Both DiCaprio and Pitt are awesome, and the latter has probably the best character of the film. But even that doesn't save the feeling of self-serving chatter, especially when the first really interestingly arranged scene comes after an hour and a half (!), when Pitt visits the ranch.
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Love at first sight. From the very beginning, I felt that by its nature and period setting this was a film made exactly for me, and – not only because of that – I smiled like a fool during half the screening and laughed out loud the rest. Tarantino’s love letter to the film industry is interested in its own characters, like Jackie Brown, and in its stylised historical reality, which you don’t have to know that deep for it to amuse you with its subversiveness and lightness. And even though in the end the reflection of the real instances is more fun than the development of the characters, the story still creates an entertaining and formally sharp picture of a time with a contagious laxness and the status of the elders, who lead an open fight with the younger generation for a place of prominence. Margot Robbie as the symbol of an easygoing and unaware star is gorgeous, DiCaprio is in his element and Pitt, with very possibly the role of a lifetime, steals every scene he’s in. An amazing soundtrack underscoring the atmosphere and an ending that not even my wettest cinephile dreams could have hoped. Three times to the cinema won’t be enough.
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Sharon Tate was stabbed to death by Charles Manson's clan on 9 August 1969; on 14 August 2019 at 8:01 pm I coaxed the ushers at the Aero Cinema that I had bought a ticket but couldn't get signal on my cell phone. That same day, when I came out of the theater an hour later to get a beer, someone asked me if it was like Pulp Fiction. At 10:50 pm there was spontaneous applause after the film. On August 15 at 12:20 am, JFL explains to me that it's a mistake to think of Tarantino as an empath, because he is instead an immature sociopath who perceives reality primarily through pop culture. At 12:32 am, I round up the number of shots of pear brandy I've drunk to an even 11. At 12:48 am, the theory creeps out of me that Tarantino's entire body of work is actually an act of mockery of American white people, and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is essentially a sequence of unrelated episodes that then culminate in a gimmick that the director has already used in another film. At 12:50 am, I panic to discover that someone is still listening to me. 1:21 am – the user asphyxia accidentally smashes a glass jar the size of the St. Vitus rosette in her apartment, then ineffectually skates around her apartment with a vacuum cleaner. 9:25 am – I'm changing the rating of Tarantino's last film to 5 stars, because I have to admit that the illusion was once again perfect. Stop. You already have all the information you need to discover which of the previous statements is not true.
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This was the weakest Tarantino film for me so far. I’m fine with alternate reality, I certainly didn't mind it in the French cinema scene in Inglourious Basterds. Plus, you can clearly tell from the title that it’s not going to be a documentary. I was prepared for long, extensive dialogues, but instead I got a boring inside look into the life of an actor with a declining career, and I was really bored. The cast was great, but the actors didn't have much to do, the screenplay was unusually lacking. If everything worked like the final attack, five stars wouldn’t be enough.
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Unfortunately, all the less than rave reviews didn't lie, and though I say this with a heavy heart as a die-hard Tarantino fan, this is one of Tarantino's weakest films. What probably disappoints the most (except for the ending) is the lack of any powerful or memorable scenes. Unfortunately, there's also virtually none of the absurdist humor you'd simply expect from Tarantino. There is also next to no dialogue with surprising and graduating zingers and basically everything that happens in the first two hours is a bunch of preset fluff. Sure, that’s nothing really new for Tarantino, and normally I wouldn't even rate that as a complaint, but there's one major problem here. It's simply not entertaining; instead, it's terribly long-winded in places and if it weren't for the famed Pitt and DiCaprio, it might very well have ended up being an even bigger bummer. Brad Pitt basically steals the whole show and plays one of his best roles ever here. DiCaprio is great too, but Pitt has a much more rewarding and audience-friendly role. I'm afraid another viewing won't immediately help here. Plus, at this point, I'm kind of glad to have it all behind me. I freely admit that I'm not a 60s pop culture expert – if I were I might have enjoyed all the hidden references and allusions as I should have and rated this, supposedly Tarantino's most personal project, completely differently. The last 30 minutes or so, however, are sheer beauty and I'd be interested in the immediate impressions of the real Roman Polanski. 30 Dec 2019 – my first self-counter-review after a second viewing on UHD. It wasn't until the second time that I fully appreciated Tarantino's genius and the partial departure from his earlier work, which in the case of his ninth film is only to the benefit of the cause. It could be safely characterized as Tarantino having grown up a lot as a filmmaker, and his Once Upon a Time in Hollywood can be given a small amount of grace as an adult variation on Pulp Fiction or Jackie Brown. Otherwise, don't be fooled (as I was on my first viewing) – Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is no less cool than Inglourious Basterds, Django Unchained, or Pulp Fiction. It just doesn't show it so ostentatiously and, on top of everything else, the last half hour beautifully rehabilitates a cruelly overlooked piece of history. And for the real Roman Polanski, it must have been that much more of a tearjerker at the end. I'm upping from 3 stars to 5 stars and will continue to search for the reason why it didn't sit well with me on opening night at the cinema.
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