[Contains minor spoilers for Once Upon A Time In Hollywood]
Up until recently, I was a firm believer in cranking the A/C when it got too hot out. I’d keep the windows of my car up and let that cool air wash over me, wiping out any trace of heat in the air around me. It’s been really hot lately, but hey, that’s late July, early August in North Carolina. That’s life.
I saw Once Upon A Time in Hollywood on release night, eager to see what the director who got me into movies had to show me next. After almost three hours of living in the ‘60s, I left the theater buzzing, so much so that I left a friend’s house the next night and went to a different theater at 11pm to catch the last showing of the night. I was absolutely hooked, and eager to dive back into that world. I drove there with the windows up and A/C on, but I drove the whole way home with the windows down, letting the warm summer air fill the car’s interior.
There are many things Once Upon A Time in Hollywood does well. It works as a time capsule of an era that has been lost forever, an examination of male friendship, a piece of revisionist history, as well as an ode to cinema itself. These all work together to create one of my favorite films in recent years, but when I think about the movie (something I’ve been doing a lot of these last few days), I find myself reflecting on the little moments, the ones that give the film its personality, its groove. What I keep coming back to, more specifically, are the many scenes where characters are simply driving, with the radio turned up and the windows rolled down.
Take Cliff Booth for example. We spend a lot of time with Cliff in the car, sometimes as he chauffeurs Rick around, sometimes on his own. Many of the film’s most triumphant and consequential moments come from behind the wheel with one arm hanging out of the window, mainly his interactions with Pussycat. The first time their eyes meet, the world seems to slow around them. She’s crossing the street and throwing him a smile as Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson” begins strumming in the background, and they flash each other a peace sign. As a member of the audience, you can feel that connection formed, that exchange registered. Right as the first lyrics begin, the scene cuts away, and the moment has passed. In the film, as in real life, the little seconds of joy come and go.
Later, when he picks her up and begins his fateful journey to Spahn Ranch, he sees her while waiting at a red light. Once he signals that he can take her where she needs to go, we suddenly become aware of the swell of Neil Diamond’s “Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show” as Pussycat begins twirling and dancing on the sidewalk. It’s a moment of sudden euphoria on a visual and audible level, completely anchored by its sense of genuine connection. It completely focuses in on the relationship between happiness and music, something intrinsic to so many people’s day to day existence. The excitement is palpable, and even if that moment dwindles away, it still exists.
This sense of connection and joy is also very present in the film’s most joyous presence, Sharon Tate. As her and her husband, Roman Polanski, cruise up to the gate of their new home on Cielo Drive while Deep Purple’s “Hush” blares from the stereo, they can be seen laughing, smiling, and living in the moment. That moment is juxtaposed by Cliff and Rick in the car motionless, sitting quietly and watching life take its course just a few feet from them. That sense of longing, and the accompanying jealousy of their movement, is palpable in Rick’s stare and the distance at which we hear the music. It also touches on the way a companion can affect our lives moment to moment. Rick and Cliff share a very different relationship than Sharon and Roman, but both are at their best while in motion. In Hollywood, as in reality, life follows music and movement.
With windows rolled up, it’s easy to feel isolated and secluded from the outside world. Maybe that’s the point. Sometimes we all need a little space to ourselves, to be away from it all. However, the feeling of being only comes from embracing your surroundings and the larger world around you, something Tarantino and Hollywood thoroughly understand. The air through your fingers, the music coming from your stereo, the strangers you lock eyes with while on the road, the company you share in your passenger seat, and noises of the world around you all add up to create what we know as reality. It’s the synergy of these elements and their transposition to the 1969 of Hollywood that allows the film to succeed in immersing its audience in the specific time and place that Tarantino is creating. To craft a believable world, reality itself must be recreated, and this film is as real as they come.
The film absolutely succeeds in creating believable characters and an epic story yarn, but I’d argue that it excels due to its focus on life’s small moments. There are countless scenes in this film that are so exciting, tender, and human, all of which add up to something significant and profound. While creating a film as slice-of-life as this one, Tarantino made sure to pay attention to the little details that make life so joyful, aching, and wondrous as it is. He fundamentally understands that sometimes, all that matters in the world is the swell of a song on the stereo or the sight of neon light soaked pavement rolling away under the car.
It might seem silly to get hung up on such a small element of a movie as sprawling as Once Upon A Time in Hollywood, which deals with everything from TV cowboys to parties at the Playboy Mansion. However, it’s the importance of the minute details of day-to-day life that make this movie as engrossing as it is. There are plenty of uninteresting ways Tarantino could have chosen to tell us to slow down and enjoy life’s little moments, but instead he chooses to let us see for ourselves from behind the wheel of a sports car cruising down the boulevard. The film works through the soundtrack blasting through car speakers, the wind ruffling Cliff’s hair, and the starstruck look in Sharon’s eyes. By the time the neon signs light up around dusk on the strip with the Rolling Stones’ “Out of Time” playing, you’ve lost yourself in this world completely. By the time the credits roll on this film, I’m already longing to return to its world.
It’s easy to get absorbed in great cinema, and make no mistake, Once Upon A Time in Hollywood is great cinema. And as much as I’d love to live in its world forever, I can’t. Nobody can. But you know what? Maybe, just maybe, by rolling down the windows of our cars, we can satisfy that sense of longing and learn to soak up the little things in this world, if only for a few moments every day. After all, art often imitates life, and I like to believe the opposite is true as well.