Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood

Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood ★★★★★

Tarantino films have a habit of becoming favourites rather quickly. In the case of Once Upon A Time … In Hollywood, it just happened to be immediate. Last August I stepped out of the theatre exhilarated, it's the closest I've ever been to walking out of a film with a hard-on. Crude I know, but those last fifteen minutes felt like the vinegar stroke of the best blow-job I'd ever had, culminating in Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio dispatching hippies in the most entertaining of fashions. Some movie violence is repugnant, but I've always been partial to Tarantino's varying degrees of stylishly over-the-top flamboyance. Whether it be The Bride cutting off limbs in the House of Blue leaves, Mr. Blonde's razor-sharp torture technique, or Major Marquis Warren's insistence on giving General "Sandy" Smithers' the same send-off as his son. He has imagination, often gratuitously so, but is it wrong? IS IT FUCK!

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