Death by Adaptation: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
Sony PicturesCLAPPER is proud to introduce a brand new feature column and podcast venture, Death by Adaptation, that takes a look at the books that were brought to the big screen. Or, in this instance, the film dragged away from the delights of Hollywood, crushed into paperback format. This is not just a "which is superior," but a dissection of what makes these respective pieces so similar, or so different, from the work they were based upon.
While that bittersweet Golden Era of Hollywood is over, the adaptations and influences it has on the modern generation are far from finished. Quentin Tarantino’s acceptance of such impact is one of the core mechanics of both his feature film Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and his recent novelised adaptation of those sunny days in the star-filled fields of Los Angeles. What is clear, through both book and film, is the love and knowledge Tarantino has of this golden era for moviemaking. He longs for the days of old print films, black coffee meetings with bigshot agents and the desire to move a television hero through the process of movie stardom.
But however desperate he is to include and canonise his own thoughts and feelings toward those perceived glory days is different in writing than it is in moving pictures. Stark differences make themselves known rather immediately, however it is not the sunny streets or A-listers that have changed but the notions of the director-turned-writer. Tarantino has changed what he wishes to commentate upon and why. He moves away from the confines of a struggling actor and into the fold of a larger variety. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood should be a gateway to explore the likes of Rick Dalton, Cliff Booth and Sharon Tate more than the film managed, but too much of it is Tarantino, expectedly, revisiting the dreams of moviemaking that he brought himself up on.
It is hard to escape the point, though, that this is borderline fan fiction. Tarantino utilises Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, both on-screen and in writing, as a way of projecting his thoughts and wishes. Why else would he describe himself as directing an Oscar-nominated adaptation of The Lady in Red with Michael Madsen? It is a small detail to incorporate, but the name-checking fascination Tarantino has with the likes of Bob Dylan, Bruce Lee and Steve McQueen is not written well enough to suggest a love for their work, nor are the words written here all that kind to them. He struggles to find a fine line between stunning love and critical thinking. Tarantino failed to do so within the film, too, but at least there he has the benefit of masking his thoughts with record-scratch moments of soundtrack glory.
How many of these characters is Tarantino projecting his thoughts onto? There is no way of separating what he feels and what his characters feel. Rather than a showy sensation of pop-culture pointers and the odd throwaway line like in the movie, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood feels more akin to a listicle of sights and sounds of the sixties. Still, it makes for some strong moments, wading into the realm of pulpy action from time to time. It makes sense, considering Tarantino has a fondness for the darker, B-Movie side of the action genre, but it is a surprise to see him tackle it with confidence and competence on the page. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood adds detail, but not dramatics to the already fractured, stumbling narrative first presented two years before its novelisation.
If the intention of a novelisation is to add detail to what there was not enough time for in the feature, then Tarantino has, forgivably, blurred his intentions. Depth or design choices to the major moments of the feature seem more or less forgotten about. Cliff Booth, in particular, goes from a necessary supporting hero in the form of Brad Pitt to a hanger-oner who doesn’t have an arc so much as a collective set of facts and figures about his life as a stuntman.
What this leads to, though, is a change in pace between film and book. Where the film did not attain tales of revenge and reward, the book does. Or, at the very least, it tries to, by painting a parallel of jealousy between Rick Dalton and Steve McQueen. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood works when it references or ridicules, but never when it works its way to revenge and dearly held anguish. Dalton is indeed demanding a new lease of life for his career, but for different reasons in each piece of art. On the one hand, we have an out-of-luck movie star making his next move. It is through his own poor decisions that he has been led here. Within the book, though, it is the fault of others. McQueen cut under him to win The Great Escape away from the great Rick Dalton. It never strikes out as a change that needed to be made.
In fact, where Tarantino keeps the similarities between book and film is perhaps the best Once Upon a Time in Hollywood’s novelisation gets. A mere change in scenery and observance is the draw between the initial meeting of Dalton and Marvin Schwarz. Within the film, it is at some bar with Cliff Booth present, but in the book, it has a relaxed tone to it that tries to include the directions and scriptwriting of the film. You can see the cogs turning in the mind of DiCaprio, whereas in the book, Tarantino utilises and heavily relies on italics to present the thought process of his leading lad. It is not the best trade-off, but there is no real way of getting around it. Kurt Russell may provide narration and brief interludes of background information within the film, but what is the alternative for the book? There isn’t one. It leaves out details that are recounted in flashbacks and hindsight, instead of hoping the written word and power behind Tarantino’s meaning would be enough to consolidate the intention of the characters. It very nearly is but falls a tad short.
As it turns out, seeing is very much believing for any Tarantino project. Adapting his own film into the lands of novel writing, Tarantino makes the transition a clunky one. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood works as a feature because we can see, hear and feel the surrounding Hollywood landscape. We can literally see those who are out and about in the world of stars, whereas with the book, it is an endless and inescapable list of name-drops and artists that Tarantino – or, at least, his characters – admire. He writes like a nerdy schoolboy who has recently discovered the darker side of the internet. Is it surprising? He has written that way since Reservoir Dogs hit cinemas. But here, he is unable to break free from the placards and narration that formed his finest projects, attempting to incorporate them into his novelisation of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood with little impact or effect.