Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is supposedly about 1960s Tinseltown but is actually a lament for a film industry that has been humbled by time, taste and technology
It wouldn’t do to talk about the ending of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Quentin Tarantino’s Valentine to the film business of 1969. But you can’t not talk about endings. The movie is nothing but grand finales – a series of sunset farewells. One is for the culture that produced Tarantino’s fictional faded male lead Rick Dalton, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, another is for the blissed-out spirit of Sharon Tate, the actor murdered that year by the Manson Family, who is returned to the screen by Margot Robbie.
And another is for Tarantino himself – or at least it will be. His latest project arrived with a goodbye. This would be the ninth film of a career, he said, that would run to 10 and no more. Then would come retirement. If the promise had the air of a stunt, he has been straightfacedly insistent since. In fact, this might be it already. “If it’s really well received,” he said this month, ahead of the film’s release, “maybe I’ll stop while I’m ahead.”
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