MARC’S REVIEW – True Romance

The structure built into the script for “True Romance” by Quentin Tarantino, directed by Tony Scott, is like the trunk of a solid oak tree with various well maintained branches representing its collection of seedy characters in off color scenes. Tarantino sets it up – an Elvis infatuated boy meets rookie call girl (Christian Slater, Patricia Arquette), boy marries girl, and then boy & girl find a suitcase filled with a fortune in uncut cocaine. A simple storyline that now allows a bunch of fun, short vignettes to be played out, all leading to one moment after the other within this universe of outlandish, lurid debauchery.

What works so well in “True Romance” is that literally from beginning to end, you are always meeting a new and incredibly interesting character. Each new scene welcomes someone new into the fold. For that, you need an all star cast. Gary Oldman, Samuel L. Jackson, Christopher Walken, Val Kilmer, Conchata Farrell, Dennis Hopper, James Gandolfini, Brad Pitt, Bronson Pinchot, Saul Rubinek, Michael Rapaport, Tom Sizemore, Chris Penn, Ed Lauter, Elvis & martial arts master Sonny Chiba. The list goes on and on. It should be noted that some of this cast were hardly stars before this film, which flopped at the box office in 1993. Before the film became a cult B movie obsession on home video and cable, it was blazing the trail of well established careers for much of its talent.

Nearly every character can have a story of their own written about them. Take Gary Oldman in one of his best roles as the vicious looking pimp named Drexel, a white guy adopting a Jamaican gangsta accent with dreadlocks, gold caps on his teeth, a blind eye and wickedly curved scar down the side of his face. His appearance alone makes me beg to know this guy’s background. Drexel’s introduction comes early when he pumps a shotgun into two hoods. Shortly thereafter he’s conversing with Clarence (Slater), and we know who’s in charge of this scene. Oldman is only given about 10 minutes of screen time but it’s hardly forgettable.

The same goes for Walken, as a well dressed mafia don interrogating Clarence’s father (Hopper). This scene has become legendary for film lovers and it carries it into a well played, stratosphere of intelligence and timing in performance duality. It remains one of the best scenes Tarantino ever wrote as we learn a probable origin of Sicilians from a doomed Dennis Hopper. This is an acting class at its finest.

Tak Fujimoto filmed the piece showing contrasts of a wintery cold and dirty Detroit versus a sun soaked Los Angeles. It’s sharp photography of gorgeous colors schemes.

Hans Zimmer scored the soundtrack, deliberately saluting Terrance Malick’s “Badlands” where we followed a similarly young criminal couple played by Martin Sheen & Sissy Spacek. Zimmer’s fun, melodic tones to celebrate Arquette and Slater’s adventures is perfectly in tune with the two dimensional charm of their new and happy relationship. Tony Scott didn’t want anything in “True Romance” to be taken awfully serious. Zimmer was the right device for that.

Moments are played with dread and seriousness though. Slater and Arquette are truly in love. So Tarantino & Scott threaten what the film treasures. Arquette as a call girl named Alabama Worley is incredible throughout the film. Her emotional range really comes through during a brutal beating scene with Gandolfini. It pains a viewer to watch the moment but it comes long after we’ve grown to love her.

Later, towards the end, our favorite couple is again endangered during a three way Mexican standoff. It’s hilarious but then it also gets downright scary.

That’s the beauty of “True Romance.” It’s a well organized mess of emotions from comedy to drama to violence and silliness. Tarantino has great set pieces all well put together in a connect the dots rhythm.

It’s an endlessly quotable film. It’s a visual film. It’s a literal roller coaster of dangerously amusing storytelling told with affection and violence.

“True Romance” remains one of my favorite films of all time.

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