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.