Quentin Tarantino’s Novelization of Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (Book Review)

Quentin Tarantino’s 2019 film Once Upon A Time In Hollywood differs greatly from the book version, which came out earlier this year. I can’t say that I’m aware of a lot of books that came after a film, or were based on a film, so I don’t have a lot to compare. I will say, though, that although I have mixed feelings about some of the writing methods implemented, Tarantino’s first novel is a grand achievement.

I do have to add the caveat that the characters are not terribly sensitive to racial matters or sexism, nor are they particularly welcoming to homosexuality. In the movie, the main character, Rick Dalton (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) doesn’t like hippies for sure, but in the book, there’s also a good streak of bigotry, for good or ill. I might just go ahead and say, the book is NSFW (Not Safe For Women). With Tarantino being adamant about bypassing cancel culture and ignoring PC sensitivity, this will come as no surprise.

Tarantino has expressed his love for writers Elmore Leonard and Charles Willeford, not known for creating terribly gentile characters, and as a pretty big fan of Willeford myself, I can’t argue. I will say that Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, though, is no Shark-Infested Custard, and some of the vulgarity comes off as forced or hamfisted. The amount of times the word “pussy” is used — a lot of the time seems more convoluted than authentic, although I’m sure authenticity is the aim.

In Tarantino’s signature style of flagrantly messing with timelines, he takes the main plot twist that makes the film version so controversial, and almost dumps it in as a flashback sequence afterthought around page 100, when the book itself is over 400 pages. The movie plays with the historical narrative of The Manson Family, and while the book version spends a fair amount of time with Manson and the mythology that he and his girls put forth in 1969, those interactions only really support a subplot with the character of Cliff Booth, played by Brad Pitt in the movie.

Booth, a decorated veteran with a number of kills under his belt, and a medal to show for some of it, might be the most interesting aspect of the book. Booth, who may or may not have killed his wife, provides a number of spectacles throughout the story, including a few more kills. We’re also given some more insight on the rift with Bruce Lee, beyond what was portrayed in the movie. To me, this is where the real grit of a Willeford-esque pulp novel starts to shine.

As for the main character, Rick Dalton, his character development in the book is based mainly around his history in film, both on television and movies, and especially in scenes where he plays a cowboy. This gives Tarantino the opportunity to share some obscure history about Hollywood in the 1960s, and as he alluded to in an interview with Joe Rogan, probably about as close as we are going to get to a book about film written by the notoriously studied screenwriter/director/former video store employee. Like Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club, Tarantino drudges up obscure information and uses it to give his character depth, with varying degrees of success.

In the end, the book is much more nuanced and delicate. Compared to the movie, which was an obvious love letter to Hollywood film history, Tarantino’s novelization paints a picture through elaborate details and dialogue — things he can’t do with screenplays or film. Overall, I found the story to take on an exciting shape when parallels were drawn between the films that Rick Dalton was making, versus the struggle Dalton encountered while making them. As such, while it’s not exactly fair to compare it to Willeford’s work, there is a balance of depth with Tarantino’s novel-writing that augments the profane with a sense of sentimental beauty.

I’ll be honest that I think the writing has mixed results, but I’ll still give it five stars for coming off as fan fiction for a great movie that just happened to be written by the creator of said movie. Not unlike Tarantino’s movies, he also inserted himself into the book in places, with varying degrees of success. Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, the novel, is not without its curious choices, and it feels somewhat experimental in that there may be some uncommon plot points that work for movies, but not quite so much for books. Nevertheless, the electric rawness and glimmering promise for the author’s debut comes through in the writing. In some areas, the inspired passion and excitement is palpable when reading it. That’s the bottom line. As such, the book is never boring, and it’s important to suggest that people who read it for the first time let go of any expectations they may have after they’ve seen the movie.