Once Upon A Time In Hollywood
Apr. 19th, 2023 09:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
poliphilo Every so often I remember we have Netflix- and I scroll through what they have on offer and pick a movie.
Always a movie. I don't have the patience for TV shows that roll on for season after season- until the last few drops of bitterness have been squeezed from the lemon.
I like fictions that don't sprawl, that wrap themselves up in a single sitting.
I scroll and I scroll until I hit upon a clutch of Tarentinos, including the latest. I'm not sure I like Tarentino, but 'liking' him isn't important. Tarentino is a master- and I know he isn't going to waste my time.
The work of a master is to illumine. In Once Upon A Time In Hollywood the bright light is being beamed into that grainy, gritty corner of our collective consciousness that is Hollywood at the end of the 1960s.
Tarentino loves this place and time. He goes to great lengths to recreate its look and feel. And having created his world down to the silliest little detail he proceeds to have fun with it...
To dream a dream...
A lucid dream, because everything is sharp and clear. This is not a work of fantasy, though the characters may be fantasists. All these things really happened, though maybe it was in a parallel reality, or after a few drags on an acid-dipped cigarette...
Bequiffed American he-men are letting their hair grow all long and floppy like Roman Polanski's. Feral children, clustering like flies- as in the Village of the Damned- have taken over the Shawn ranch where where they used to make TV westerns. Celluloid violence, easily dispensed with six gun and flame thrower, is coming home. Our likeable heroes are a dopey alcoholic and a breezy dude who may have killed his wife- oh- and Sharon Tate, happy to make others happy, breezing through it all- scarcely touching the ground- like a personification of the Los Angeles sunshine...
"Lets kill those who taught us to kill." says a Manson girl.
Seems as if I like Tarentino after all.
Always a movie. I don't have the patience for TV shows that roll on for season after season- until the last few drops of bitterness have been squeezed from the lemon.
I like fictions that don't sprawl, that wrap themselves up in a single sitting.
I scroll and I scroll until I hit upon a clutch of Tarentinos, including the latest. I'm not sure I like Tarentino, but 'liking' him isn't important. Tarentino is a master- and I know he isn't going to waste my time.
The work of a master is to illumine. In Once Upon A Time In Hollywood the bright light is being beamed into that grainy, gritty corner of our collective consciousness that is Hollywood at the end of the 1960s.
Tarentino loves this place and time. He goes to great lengths to recreate its look and feel. And having created his world down to the silliest little detail he proceeds to have fun with it...
To dream a dream...
A lucid dream, because everything is sharp and clear. This is not a work of fantasy, though the characters may be fantasists. All these things really happened, though maybe it was in a parallel reality, or after a few drags on an acid-dipped cigarette...
Bequiffed American he-men are letting their hair grow all long and floppy like Roman Polanski's. Feral children, clustering like flies- as in the Village of the Damned- have taken over the Shawn ranch where where they used to make TV westerns. Celluloid violence, easily dispensed with six gun and flame thrower, is coming home. Our likeable heroes are a dopey alcoholic and a breezy dude who may have killed his wife- oh- and Sharon Tate, happy to make others happy, breezing through it all- scarcely touching the ground- like a personification of the Los Angeles sunshine...
"Lets kill those who taught us to kill." says a Manson girl.
Seems as if I like Tarentino after all.
