Love hurts

The dream of the '90s is alive at Circle

Sometimes you have to look at the things you love in context, with the perspective from which you first fell for them, because nostalgia is a powerful force. Not to cushion the blow for myself because I might not love 1993’s Quentin Tarantino-penned, Tony Scott-directed “True Romance” as much as I thought I did—I know I don’t. But it is a way to gauge growth, acknowledging that what was once ostensibly great maybe really wasn’t. Integrity takes time to reveal itself.

But you can’t live with a movie for that long—that you know inside and out—without it becoming a part of you. So with the upcoming Valentine’s Day screenings of “True Romance” at Circle Cinema (on goddamn 35mm film, people) I took another look at an old friend.  

For the uninitiated: Christian Slater plays Clarence Worley, an Elvis-obsessed comic book nerd and kung-fu aficionado living in Detroit, who meets Alabama Whitman (Patricia Arquette), a call girl hired (unbeknownst to Clarence) by his boss as a birthday present. He’s her third trick, and she falls in love. They get married.

After freeing Alabama from her pimp, Drexel (a legendary Gary Oldman), Clarence winds up on the run to LA with a suitcase full of coke and a plan to sell it though his dimly sweet (and only) friend, Dick Ritchie (Michael Rappaport) to a powerful movie producer, Lee Donowitz (Saul Rubinek). Little do they know, a group of typically Sicilian mobsters are coming for their stolen coke, leading to an explosive finale where almost everyone gets the shit killed out of them.

“True Romance” is a comic book film that works as such, but which hasn’t necessarily aged well. It’s Tarantino’s first script—and it shows. His trademark dialogue, while still crackling, is trying just a little too hard, and that extends to Tony Scott’s John Woo-inspired direction. Almost everything about it is so ’90s it hurts. And it’s easy to see that’s intentional, but the fullness of time has brought it back to the realm of self-parody. Scott’s saturated frames, pumping soundtrack and merciless style forge a detrimental partnership with Tarantino’s apparent, but still green, brilliance. David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart” did this story better, and weirder, three years earlier.

But it still operates fully in the Tarantinoverse. Just seeing Chris Penn, Tom Sizemore, Sam Jackson and Christopher Walken—and contemplating their extended careers in QT’s world—make “True Romance” feel like canon. It’s really no wonder I don’t like it as much, as Tarantino tends mostly to direct his own best work. I despise “Natural Born Killers” as a cultural satire, but as a Hollywood satire, “True Romance” is, at least, funny. The same dynamic hamstrings both, though: early writing from QT and a director whose overt styling utterly dates it. 

Despite its flaws, I still love “True Romance” a little. It’s amazing to see Slater in his post-“Heathers” prime, and I couldn’t help but think of Arquette through the lens of her performance in “Boyhood.” She gets the shit kicked out of her in both films. Brad Pitt will, somehow, always be Floyd. And that’s what it is now.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Looking for more stories from Joe? Check out his reviews of "Whiplash," "A Most Violent Year" and "Foxcatcher."