Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

 I loved Quentin Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in Hollywood film. It was a great character study set in 1969's Hollywood with Charles Manson as the backdrop. It seamlessly wove actual Hollywood history in with the revisionist history he started working into his films with Inglorious Basterds. When it was announced that the novelization of the film, written by Tarantino, was on its way and it would go beyond the movie, I pre-ordered that 400 page tome.

Then it came and I had other things to read.

Then I read it.

Disappointment set in.

Rick and Cliff were what I enjoyed in the film. In the novel, however, they are almost secondary characters to their own tale. Tarantino figures we've seen the film and know the characters. So what does he give us? Not too much more insight into them, though there is some. No, he delves into the Johnny Madrid character and how the actor playing him got the job for Lancer, and then delves into a how guest-spot on Bonanza went for him. And he goes into great detail on the plots of both shows. That is a common occurrence throughout the book. Meaningless tangents that go nowhere.

Oh, and the Manson Family? It is there, but it could have been left out of the book entirely and not made a damn bit of difference. The slaughter that Cliff and Rick engage in at the end of the film is mentioned part of the way through the book, but the conclusion of the book is far different from the movie, and the dead hippies never happen.

Tarantino needed an editor. Tarantino needed to stick with what made the film work. If anyone picked up the book without seeing the movie . . . well, they wouldn't want to see the film. I'm certain of that. And if anyone reads the book who doesn't love film and Hollywood . . . well, they will be bored beyond belief. I'm certain of that, too.

How could something so good go so wrong? Mediums. Film is a different medium than books and vice versa. It's why a movie is never too much like the book from which it spawned. What works in one does not work in the other. It's not to say they can't be similar, but it's a balancing act and sacrifices will be made. 

And for those who think Tarantino has a foot fetish . . . this book will not change your mind. Not one bit. I don't know how many descriptions of dirty feet I had to read. For some, that will be all they need to know to jump into it. Be warned, though, Tarantino directs films better than he writes books, but I'm still anxious to read more from him. Maybe, like Rick, I'm a glutton for punishment.

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