Quentin Jerome Motherfucking Tarantino. Yeah, that’s his real middle name - motherfucking. Tarantino busted a nut onto the scene with all the other cool ‘90’s indie kids like PTA, Robert Rodriguez and Kevin Smith… fuck this noise, y’all know who Tarantino is. And if you don’t, me comparing him to Kevin Smith won’t help a fucking bit. Lord save me, I love that Quick Stop NJ what-is-now-essentially-a-podcaster more than anyone born after most of his classic films (2005) should, but with all apologies to Mistah Sarris, the dude’s not the next Scorsese. So, you know who Tarantino is, and probably are Googling Kevin Smith. I’ve accomplished nothing but waste your time.
In 2022, in complete procrastination of his tenth and final film, Tarantino published his thoughts on ‘70’s films. I got the hardcover for Christmas, and fuck is it good. Granted, Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair has spot numero uno on my Letterboxd, but I don’t think this is fully bias. Nah, I think it’s ‘cause it felt more of a memoir than a straightforward review collection. It felt like a proper journey through the LA of his youth and adolescence, and might be up there with The Life And Times Of The Thunderbolt Kid by Billy Bryson with childhood memoirs.
I thought it would be a fun idea to try to watch every film mentioned in Cinema Speculation - that’s what the book’s called, Cinema Speculation. I’m hoping to not only have a better appreciation of Tarantino, but a more fuller understanding of 70’s cinema.
On page 2, Q rattles off a list of films that the historic Tiffany wouldn’t show. Oliver!, the Best Picture winner, is on that list.
So I’m reviewing a movie in the context that Tarantino praised a cinema for refusing to show the film. And I really don’t like musicals. And… I’m not the greatest fan of British cinema (Edgar Wright’s best work is Baby Driver and Scott Pilgrim, not his UK-based films). I don’t know, a lot of British cinema is plagued with sentimental “our wee island” mushy-ness. And this - a musical adaption of maybe the second most famous English author - felt crazy mushy, heading into it. I’ve seen an adaption of Copperfield with Peter Capaldi in it maybe 10 years ago, and that left me with the mushy-ness.
I fucking hate to say it, but - Oliver! isn’t that bad a movie. Yes, the ending proudly steers into eugenics territory (if you’re born from an upper class, you will eventually rightfully return while those poor (Artful) shall always be thieves) which feels very British, and it feels like the villains have to either be a) regretful and not really villains or b) cartoonish (I know Dickens did satire before it was called satire, but still), and it does steer into “our wee island” (also “wee” is Irish slang, those colonising bastards) territory at parts, but -
The colours work. The songs, mostly, work. The fucking “Who Will Buy” scene WORKS. The way the individual melodies cross into each other, and the visuals of the kid looking out from the balcony. Fuck, it works. It’s the best scene in the film. THAT SCENE is Oscar-worthy. The rest? I dunno. But that scene works.
This is the first Dean Martin movie I’ve seen. Tarantino likes Dean Martin, or at least references him a lot in his works for someone who doesn’t. You have the Dean Martin film that Margot Robbie goes to see in Once Upon A Time In Hollywood. You also have, in Cinema Speculation, Tarantino praising Martin for his club “Dino’s” to be the only old Hollywood holdout on the strip.
And this is a Dean Martin movie. I don’t know if Tarantino likes it, he frames it in the same way he frames Oliver!, as part of the list of films the Tiffany wouldn’t show.
I don’t really like it. For starters, it spends its first hour before the plane takes off. And this is a plane disaster movie. Now, something like Godzilla Minus One, what I’d argue is a straight-up masterpiece of the disaster movie genre, does spend a lot of the time beforehand developing the characters, but 1) Godzilla is a metaphor for Hiroshima. This isn’t a metaphor for squat 2) it develops a single, maybe two characters, while Airport starts off as a bad “Guess Who” game and 3) it doesn’t last a whole fucking hour.
Now, don’t feel sorry for Airport. It made the fat fucking bucks and kick started the Western disaster movie (if you don’t count King Kong as the first Western disaster movie, but…). It got parodied in Airplane! a movie which arguably has a longer lasting legacy than Airport. And a better name, as the guy tries to blow up an airplane not an airport.
The British Empire, in 1939, was in its last gasps. Its closest colony, Ireland, had (aside from the North) achieved independence, the US has taken its crown as the world’s most powerful country due to immense debts from World War One, and Nazi Germany, just about to clash with them, was a real, existential threat.
This film is the trickle of piss that ran down its leg during the British Empire’s death rattles. And it’s not an excusable piss, like The Canterbury Tales, because this piss has a lot to do with eugenics.
You see, Chippings, the main character, works in an Eton-esque private school, and keeps on teaching the same bloodlines - if you’re a rational person, you’re yelling hold up right now. But the people behind this think it’s just a fun joke! Yes, they’re all white, yes, they’re all men. How am I supposed to sit here, and watch this - not to be needlessly crude, but tongue-in-asshole action - celebrating the fact that a school that is presented as one of the best schools (presumably of Earth) has a “who’s your daddy” admission policy? Fuck off!
It’s not heartwarming, it’s racist and classist! Are you implying that this school’s biggest greatness, which Chippings (I refuse to call him the nickname “Chips” and humanise him) constantly states and restates to everyone around him is the pupils, is all that fucking great? Because, to buy into that line of thinking, is to also buy into the thought that there is a genetic advantage to white posh pricks. Which just isn’t fucking true.
And this god-damn audiovisual sloppy blowjob to Eton, tangling its saggy Tory ballsack in its hand, with Eton grabbing the film’s balding blonde scalp with a rich, fat un-callused hand - is supposed to be fucking heart-warming?!? Jesus Christ, if you chuckle and clap, like a god-damn seal, to this 1939 edition of “racist men gettin’ stiffies for racist institutions”, then take a deep look in the mirror (instead of having a deep plunge into your asshole by Eton’s flaccid micropenis of problematic, sectarian ideals).
After the British empire fell, countries like India and Pakistan got independence, figures such as Nelson Mandela eventually got accepted as an icon of civil rights throughout the UK, and the Commonwealth system began a transition from an exploitative relationship to more of a mutually beneficial relationship, through such pivotal moments of British history and culture like Windrush.
The world is better without the British empire. Someone should tell Eton - you’d think their history class would talk about the East Indian Tea Company.
More like shitty shitty bang bang. Got’ em!
This is bizarre. Bizarre in the fact that the screenplay was written by Roald Dahl, and it’s based on a book written by the James Bond guy. Bizarre that’s the second musical I’ve seen with Dick Van Dyke pretending to be English. Just bizarre, bizarre, bizarre.
If I had to “elevator pitch” it, it’s a driftless slacker journey about a whimsical Willy Wonka-esque inventor trying to make a buck, score with a chick and avoid getting executed by the strange characters that lie along the road to adventure. Marty Supreme meets Wonka meets The Princess Bride.
But that elevator pitch makes it sound (a bit) good (if disjointed). The truth is, that it’s not good at all and very disjointed indeed.
You see, what I didn’t have in my pitch but Dick has, is children. Gobsmacked, I’m sure you’re leaning closer saying “Let me catch this right, dude - you saying this cat is cruising with pussy a la kids?” Aye. I mean, he goes to a weird festival for a bit without the kids, but…
You, in your tye-dyed turtleneck, shake in your head in belief, and go like “Daddy-o? More like Daddy bad.” And you’re right - this dude IS a bad father. He refuses to get a stable job, decide being a stable struggling father with two children, and leaves them alone to go to a circus. He ends up taking them to a no-child place, which leads to them getting captured by a child catcher.
This guy fucking sucks.