‘Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood’ is a flaky, flimsy fairy tale that’s still pretty entertaining

For Angelenos, “Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood,” by Quentin Tarantino, is required viewing if you 1) are too young to have any idea who Charlie Manson’s family was 2) love Brad Pitt 3) are craving cocktails and massive portions at Musso & Frank’s and feel the need to rationalize a visit to the restaurant.

The film is a heavy-handed homage to the slowly collapsing Studio System, in the year 1969, as well as a revisionist and rescue fantasy from a director who gorges on movie lore like some of us feast on popcorn. But as glossy looking (shot by Robert Richardson) and as crammed with period detail as it is, “Once Upon,” has a script that’s thin and unsatisfying; the film has very little tension or much humor to sustain its 2 hour and 41 minute running time. The place, slick and sultry and a bit sinister, is rendered with a sure eye; the mood is often flat.

The story revolves primarily around a macho TV actor named Rick Dalton (Leonardo Di Caprio) whose career is starting to wobble and his friendship with his stuntman and helper Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). Rick is fond of easing his angst with booze; Cliff is a laconic cool guy, war veteran and mysterious widower – there are rumors that he might have been involved in his wife’s death. Rick happens to live on Cielo Drive, next door to director Roman Polanski (Rafal Zawierucha) and his wife Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie).

In “Once Upon,” Rick plays the villain in “Lancer,” which was an actual Western show that aired on CBS for two seasons, starting in 1968 and starring actor James Stacy (played in “Once Upon” by Timothy Olyphant) and Wayne Maunder (Luke Perry).

Robbie is an ideal choice to play Tate; she exudes young energy and abundant promise. So, it would have been nice if Tarantino had given her more to do than being adorable, acquiescent and slightly vacant.

But hey she is a starlet, after all. We meet lots of stock players in this dark-side-of-the-dream scenario: Al Pacino as a glitzy producer, looking to snag film roles for Rick in Italian movies; Lorenza Izzo as the 2-D, temperamental wife Rick meets while making an Italian movie; and Julia Butters as a precocious child actor (is there any other kind?) and co-star of Rick’s Italian movie. As Tarantino melds reality with fantasy, we also spy Steve McQueen (Damian Lewis), Sam Wanamaker (Nicholas Hammond), Bruce Lee (Mike Moh) and others.

The other major plotline, awkwardly lumped in, comes from the fact that cult leader Charlie Manson and his murderous followers also had tangential and tenuous (but 100% real) connections to Tinseltown. Manson once aspired to a music career and mistakenly believed that producer Terry Melcher lived in the Tate-Polanksi residence on Cielo Drive. Also, the Manson “family” lived at Spahn Ranch, which was a filming location for the Jane Russell movie “The Outlaw” and some episodes of the TV show “Bonanza.”

By chance, Cliff picks up a hitchhiking Mansonite named Pussycat (Margaret Qualley, of TV’s “The Leftovers” and “Fosse/Verdon”), drives her to the ranch and stops in for a visit. Apparently, Rick and Cliff once worked there and Cliff remembers George Spahn, who in 1969 was 80 years old and blind.

Long-legged and lithe Pussycat bites her lip repeatedly as part of her seduction but Cliff decides she’s too young for him and takes a pass, on her and the Manson cult. Pussycat might be based in part on Kathryn Lutesinger, who briefly followed Manson but later turned against him. Dakota Fanning and Austin Butler play (real-life) Manson followers and criminals Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme and Tex Watson. Damon Herriman plays Manson.

“Once Upon …” isn’t a bad movie but it’s not Tarantino at his finest. It’s well acted, especially Brad Pitt as Cliff Booth and Bruce Dern as George Spahn, and it’s all pretty enjoyable, it’s just not that interesting or weird or wild overall. Granted, the reimagining of the Manson Tate murders definitely provides a kooky ending – the problem is it also comes off as strained and random, more gimmick than grand finale.

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‘Fury’ hits hard with a powerful story and fine performances

Fury posterFury/2014/Columbia Pictures/134 min.

Writer/director David Ayer’s “Fury,” a World War II drama, is a force to behold, with one of Brad Pitt’s finest performances.

The movie is set in April of 1945 and the war is coming to an end, but this is no gradual winding down. Instead, it’s a tooth and nail fight, a savage final struggle to defeat the Nazis on the European front. Pitt plays an army sergeant nicknamed Wardaddy who commands a Sherman tank and a crew of men.

Boyd (Shia LaBeouf) clings steadfastly to religion to get him through. Jon Bernthal’s Coon and Michael Peña’s Gordo gave up hope a long time ago. Logan Lerman, as a new addition named Norman, shows us a heart-wrenching evolution from paper-pusher to Nazi-slayer.

The soldiers hold their own for a while but, as they push through enemy lines, it becomes frighteningly clear that they are far outnumbered by the Germans.

Pitt melds fierce intensity and psychological battle scars with layers of mystery, dignity and reserve. The rest of the cast (including Anamaria Marinca and Alicia von Rittberg as German women the men encounter) match him, beat for beat, thanks to assured and nuanced direction from Ayer.

‘Fury’ can be hard to watch at times – it’s gory and graphic from the start – but war is hell, remember. And this is one hell of a story.

“Fury” opens in theaters today.

Bleak, brutal ‘Killing’ a showcase for Pitt’s slow-burn intensity

Killing Them Softly/2012/Plan B Entertainment/97 min.

There’s a core of a really good movie inside the pale, pulpy flesh of “Killing Them Softly,” a neo noir by writer/director Andrew Dominik, based on George V. Higgins’ 1974 novel, “Cogan’s Trade.”

Changing the novel’s Boston setting to New Orleans in 2008, the film starts with two young-ish low lifes (played by Scoot McNairy and Ben Mendelsohn) accepting an offer from a veteran low life (Vincent Curatola) to hold up a card sharks’ gathering and put the blame on game organizer Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta).

Of course, this gambit is not cool with the ruling mob and glacially laconic hitman Jackie Cogan (Brad Pitt) is called in to dole out retribution. To help with the assignment, Jackie taps an old-timer assassin named Mickey (James Gandolfini) but bloated, broken-hearted Mick has problems of his own.

Dominik strikes a mood of cynical malaise, one that seems to stem from the country’s decline under the leadership of George W. Bush. Corporate America and the underworld, both big businesses, have much in common, we’re told several times. Gloomy, washed-out lighting and collages of carnage (cinematographer Greig Fraser impressively juxtaposes frenzied camerawork with slow motion) sustain the dour vibe as does the richly dark soundtrack.

But the thin story drags despite its dreadful, in-your-face violence. What unfolds, without much tension, is Jackie crossing off items on his to-do list. Still, Jackie is a character who is pretty compelling to watch. The title “Killing Them Softly” refers to Jackie’s professional style – he prefers to take his victims from a distance so as to avoid the stickiness (crying, begging, etc.) of a close-up killing – and Pitt effortlessly engages us every moment he’s on the screen.

Pitt’s brand of slow-burn intensity makes “Killing Them Softly” a showcase for his talent, whether or not that’s what the director had in mind (they worked together in 2007’s “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford”). Pitt is particularly well matched when paired with Gandolfini – the few scenes they have together are among the movie’s best. That said, the final scene, with Pitt and Richard Jenkins as a mob bureaucrat, is as hard to beat as Jackie’s bullets are tough to dodge.

“Killing Them Softly” opened Friday.