Funny Girl

I read a lot of Nick Hornby growing up. I sped through High Fidelity, About A Boy, and many more in my late teens, from which I have a very clear memory of a pretty girl who studied at a better university than me and smoked cigarettes laughing at my preferences and telling me to read Kafka instead. When I saw Funny Girl in a local charity shop, then, I thought it was a good chance to see how far my tastes have matured in the last decade.

One thing’s for sure: Hornby can still write a book I can’t put down. Published four years ago, Funny Girl tracks the life of a Blackpool woman who moves to London to pursue a career in television acting. From there, the writers, producer, and other actors on her big-break television programme enter the story, and the bulk of the book is an ensemble effort with all kinds of plot threads progressing simultaneously on everything from gay rights to the north-south divide, all tied together by Hornby’s trademark sharp dialogue.

The half-bottle of whisky alone already makes this photo darker than any part of Funny Girl.

But while this was enough to keep the pages turning, as I reached the end I couldn’t help but think it was all a bit easy. Main character Sophie moves to London and finds a sketchy agent – but she lands her dream job by herself and pretty much lives happily ever after. Relationships end – amicably. Characters take risks with their careers – and they pay off. I never felt that there was anything at stake once the first episode of Sophie’s sitcom proved a hit, and even if there had been, the show’s team were too tight-knit a group for it to matter. Even internal affairs and cheating had no noticeable effect on their dynamic.

Maybe it’s just a sign of where I’m at when it comes to reading. An entertaining story might have been enough to keep me going in 2008 (or as some light relief after the heavy, philosophical 12 Rules for Life), but I’ve read too many novels since that have left me with that “wow” feeling as I turned the final page, having offered a new perspective on the world and given me some thinking to do beyond the surface-level plot. Funny Girl had none of that, but was so fast-paced and well-written that I flew through its pages anyway.

Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood

Quentin Tarantino’s latest film, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood, has received mixed reviews both among critics and within my social group. Its detractors argue that it meanders over its two-and-a-half-hour duration, and one person I spoke to described it as “a lot about nothing”. However, having seen it at the cinema this week, I have to say I disagree. It’s different to the director’s other films, sure, but it’s got a lot going for it.

Once Upon a Time… is to Tarantino’s other movies what Better Call Saul is to Breaking Bad. It’s slower than, say, Pulp Fiction, and spends a lot more time scene-setting between action sequences (which take both physical and emotional form). This is augmented with frequent blasts of the film’s glorious 1960s soundtrack, which I’ve been listening to on Spotify in the days since the screening. The visuals are also gorgeous – particularly some of the driving scenes and the later shots that linger on Los Angeles’ neon lights.

Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt) and Rick Dalton (Leonardo Di Caprio) show us their coolest stares

That said, it’s the characters that really make the movie. The dynamic between Di Caprio’s washed-up Western star and Pitt, his stuntman, is so successfully executed that you stick with them even through some of their darker moments, and I’ll be the first to admit my emotions were caught up in the drama when their relationship was put under some strain later on. And Di Caprio has some especially hard-hitting moments as his character Rick Dalton realises his career – and by extension his life – may have already passed its peak.

All the components of Once Upon a Time… add up to something greater than the sum of its parts. A film about a mopey Western actor might not sound the most engrossing, but when combined with stellar acting, beautiful cinematography, a carefree ’60s soundtrack, and a sprinkling of takes on famous faces from the era, Tarantino’s latest really makes you feel a part of its setting, and provides a near-perfect couple of hours of cinema escapism.