For Tarantino Fans

I'm super-excited for "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood," which opens tomorrow. A few thoughts:

*This movie tells--partly--the story of Sharon Tate. Ms. Tate was married to Roman Polanski and nurturing a young film career when Charles Manson's minions murdered her. Hollywood in the sixties seems to be a special obsession of Tarantino's--dating to childhood--and I'm pleased he's exploring it here. (John McPhee says, "If the thing didn't interest you in your teens, it's never going to be a great subject for you to write about.")

*How strange to blend real and fictional characters. Like "Ragtime." DiCaprio and Pitt are playing fake people, but they will be in the company of Tate and Polanski, among others.

*Acting is about gestures. "Lightning in a bottle" is when a performer does something surprising and real, on camera. I'm obsessed with one Margot Robbie moment in the trailer. She says, "I play Mia--the klutz." And on the word "klutz," she rolls her eyes in an indulgent and exasperated way. It's like she is coaching her audience on how she would like to be "received." I could watch the eye-roll a million times. Spontaneous and weirdly charming. Tarantino was right to capitalize on that.

We'll know more tomorrow! How nice to have a buzzy movie in a fairly mediocre season....

Comments

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog