Showing posts with label Bruce Dern. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bruce Dern. Show all posts

Sunday, 28 November 2021

Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood (2019)

 "Now, that's the way a cigarette should taste..."

This is, seen one way, a typical Tarantino film. It has his signature cinema-literate metatextuality (there’s an extended riff towards the end on spaghetti westerns and the whole Italian B movie industry, which I much enjoy), his narratives within narratives, his sense of controlled irony, his non-linear narratives and his deliberately ambiguous elements- did Cliff kill his wife or not, as many seem to think? He seems a decent man, but people are complicated.

And yet, in another sense, this is a real outlier in that it is not an action film at all but a serious drama with big themes- how one responds to the approach of middle ag;  male friendship and how it develops when the two men are not of equal status, with one living in a Hollywood mansion and the other in a trailer; how, in 1969, the era of Westerns and war films is slowly ebbing away towards an era of auteurs, hippies and changing values. It’s a film that uses footage cleverly to show us all the different sides of 1969, with Tarantino’s usual visual wit, and has a similarly evocative soundtrack, as his films invariably do.

This is not really a film about the Manson “family”, despite Margot Robbie’s splendid turn as Sharon Tate: it’s appropriate that Charles Manson himself only appears briefly and is told to go away. His “family” are shown as shallow, duplicitous petty criminals, manipulating a blind old man with dementia to get a place to stay- and, arguably, raping him. It’s fitting that Tarantino should do as he did in Inglourious Basterds and have history pan out differently and far more pleasingly.

This film is superbly shot, superbly made, and full of both heart and complexity. It may well be Tarantino’s masterpiece.

Friday, 27 December 2019

The Hateful Eight (2015)

"They shot my nuts off!"

Wow. I know I tend to like Quentin Tarantino's films a lot. \but this, of the ones I've seen, which are most, this is his masterpiece.

Superficially, perhaps, it has many of Tarantino's tropes- his usual cast members; his signature sudden acts of graphic violence punctuating the narrative as if to shift the narrative from slow ad dialogue driven to fast and action-driven; the way he somehow makes everything seem, somehow, both natural and curated.

And yet... fundamentally, this is very different. For a start, the direction, while masterful, is restrained stylistically in a deliberate move to foreground the script an actors. His disinclination to do this in the past has never, of course, been a problem- there's a reason he's a famous director- but here he chooses to foreground the script and the performers.

 This feels, incredibly for a Tarantino film, not so much like the Western that it undoubtedly is but a serious stage play that evokes no less a writer than Arthur Miller. The characters- acted superbly, with Samuel L. Jackson and Jennifer Jason Leigh (weirdly, I'm familiar with her from Atypical) standing out, are well fleshed out, and there's a very prominent theme of race of the original American (and British, and French, and Dutch, and Spanish, and Portuguese) sin of slavery. This film has a lot to say of the difficulties involved in being black and American, in still living in the country in which you (or in the Major's case, you) were enslaved.#

The narrative- in chapters, framed by the music of Ennio Morricone, is masterful, mostly observing the Aristotelian unities but with necessary but restrained flashbacks, is both gripping and beautiful. One of the last films I see during the '10s may well be the best of the decade.