Once Upon a Time in Hollywood - a book review

Did you know that Quentin Tarantino novelised his most recent film, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? Earlier this year (2021), as it was releasing, I saw the interview Tarantino did with Fallon promoting the book and I couldn’t wait to read it. I LOVE Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. I first watched it in the theatre; it wasn’t packed, but it was full enough that I had to book a seat a bit too left and down for my liking, but I was too excited to see Tarantino’s next action flick to wait. I liked the ambience of the film, but was beginning to find myself losing focus as I felt nothing narratively linking myself to Cliff and Rick, but the climax is the final piece the puzzle needed; the theatre erupting with laughter at the funny bits and gasping at the pivotal ones – the perfect audience.

And yeah, call me a stereotypical white-boy film student but I like Tarantino and I have had some of my best theatrical experiences with him. He is funny, exhilarating, explosive, witty, and simply one of the best auteurs in the business. He is so good that I am ready to look past his constant and consistent use of everyone’s favourite racial slur. I get it in his westerns and other period pieces, I’ll even get it if you want to have some white guy fling it at Samuel L. Jackson just before Sam kicks his arse, but Reservoir Dogs has a single Black character yet the slur is thrown about throughout the entire movie, yet never in any of his scenes. But I love Steve Buscemi, Tim Roth, and everything else about Tarantino’s directorial debut, and what I love about Hateful Eight is that it’s just a wiser and western version of Reservoir Dogs.

It’s like he makes it hard to like him. Tarantino is the barometer between those who separate the art from the artist, and those who can’t. I think both sides are valid, especially when Tarantino’s films feel so personal, regardless of a moral compass as they take you on an over-the-top-but-still-intellectually-gripping adventure.

But I want to talk about this book. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood: A Novel (I don’t know if the subtitle is part of the title, but Bezos believes it is) is a novelisation of the film and I finished it this morning. I love reading, but I would never assume I could critique a book. Of course I have opinions and of course I love to speak about them, but I am just an admirer of books – a hobbyist. Regardless, my verdict on the novel is thus: perfect.

I loved it. From front to back, I devoured the 400-page pulp in a handful of days after randomly picking it up at an unnamed local supermarket*. I am going to spoil the film for reference, so be warned that the book is essentially the same as the film, with a few exceptions.

Firstly, the book isn’t as linear as the film. The novel is set across a handful of days; from actor Rick Dalton and his stuntman buddy Cliff Booth being told to shoot Western’s in Italy (“It’s official, old buddy. I’m a has been.”) to Sharon Tate’s pool party. But that means there is no fight at the end, no final piece to fill in the puzzle! Actually, the fight is included, but is told through a flashforward within the first third of the book. So without a climactic ending, what is the book about?

If Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is a cinematic love letter to late 60’s Hollywood, then the novel is a written memoir to late 60’s Hollywood, starring Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio. The book is an addendum to the film, not a stand-alone story. Earlier, I said I was bored when the story wasn’t moving forward. Well, the book is just that, a story about some people except it doesn’t have that Tarantino big-bang finish waiting at the finish line.

This is where I think I might be being biased. You need to have to watch the film before reading the book to enjoy it. I normally hate media that can’t work as a sole product, but this book is exactly what I look for when I re-watch the film: the minutia of their lives as they live in this rich and detailed world, ready to be plundered.

Okay, the book isn’t linear, but what is more important is the incredible amount of extra information. You thought the film was detailed, wait till you read Tarantino narrating the next decade of Rick Dalton’s career (he eventually comes to Malta to film Paul Wendkos’ Hell Boats). Every film he mentions, every actor, director, and date he mentions is accurate, or I at least assume them to be (because who checks?). There are extra scenes, there are altered scenes, and there are more detailed scenes. Although everything remains relatively the same, every character, every encounter is alive as Tarantino jumps back and forth between perspectives (the best of these being the fight between Cliff and Bruce Lee; I got both sides of the argument). It feels very much like a film treatment except it includes all the character backgrounds.

It had bad stuff as well. There were a couple of slurs, a lot of bare feet, and some gross male-perspective sexual content (no physical acts, mostly thoughts on European films). But how can I complain? I knew I would be reading Tarantino, it would be silly of me to complain about it. I’ve come to (shamefully) expect it, but I do wish he would stop doing it, it has become an artistic signature that is a little too bittersweet minus the sweet.

*Remember how I said, “I couldn’t wait to read it”? Well, apparently, I could because I ended up forgetting all about it until that fateful day at the fateful unnamed local supermarket.