OUATIH is not an initialisation that trips off the tongue, and the film it represents is not one that is easy to define. It’s safe to say it’s comfortably Tarantino’s funniest film, but the rest of the experience will very much be determined by what the viewer brings to the party.
What’s immediately evident is Tarantino’s love and respect for the period and scene he is so lovingly homaging. QT’s eagerness to throw as many references and loving nods is charming. It can also come across as smart-arse and clever-clever. This is not new news, though. Fans will find it endearing; cynics will point to a progression of his indulgent nature, perhaps to its natural conclusion.
The other aspect likely to divide is the narrative (or lack of), and the treatment of the real-life events which it revolves around. It’s very much more a mood piece than some will have the patience for. It’s coloured with fascinating characters – of whom we get varying degrees of insight – which are an absolute joy to be in the presence of. But those looking for a strict (or clever) structure or momentum will be left frustrated.
Tarantino has shown before that he’s not averse to a little revisionist history. While it was almost incidental in Inglorious Basterds, it’s pretty key here to how the whole movie develops. It’s fair to say that the knowledge of the actual events may greatly affect the experience – either a progression of tense scenes on uneasy footing, to a clever pay-off, or total bafflement as to the point of the thing. The outrageous finale is hysterical, in every sense, whatever your position.
The director has explained the film is not about the Manson Family Murders, but that it occurs with them as a backdrop. This itself is a little misleading, and the involvement of Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) is interesting. We follow her almost in complete parallel to the main thrust, right up until the denouement. Robbie makes a dreamy, naive Tate, who embodies the spirit of the times, and helps explore the more hedonistic elements, but she is ultimately auxiliary.
It’s DiCaprio’s film. His Rick Dalton is at once hilarious and achingly sad; never has he been given a role that shows such incredible range.
Surrounding the performance are some excellent touches – a whole flurry of invented movie posters, recreated old movie and TV show scenes, and even the splicing of the actor into existing classics. The whole package, propped up by a career-best DiCaprio, is thrilling.
The director has always promised 10 films and out. His previous eight (reluctantly counting the Kill Bills as one, as he does), have built certain expectations as to what constitutes a Tarantino flick. The ‘look-how-clever-I-am’ aspects have somewhat shifted from his whip-smart, too-cool dialogue, to this reference packed, flawless evocation of an age he so clearly adores.
There is the increasing feeling that he needs reining-in, as the run times are getting away from him. However, more Tarantino is not all bad; while many will find OUATIH patience-testing, the new ingredients on display here mean we’ll continue to have whatever he cooks up, for as long as he wants to.
M.
A Room With No View 
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