Cinema Speculation - Book Summary

Embarking on a cinematic journey with Quentin Tarantino

Who doesn't recognize the illustrious name, Quentin Tarantino? Whether you find his films spine-tingling or they simply give you the creeps, his genius is undeniable and the world of cinema has been irrevocably changed by his audacious storytelling.

In our exploration of Tarantino's "Cinema Speculation", we delve deep into his past, tracing the beginnings of his passion for films and his initial cinema outings. Even more fascinating, we'll delve into Tarantino's insightful and often provocative perspectives on three iconic 70s movies — Dirty Harry, Taxi Driver, and Escape from Alcatraz. True to his unique style, Tarantino's analysis doesn't just critique these films, he also indulges in a bit of speculation with intriguing 'what if' scenarios.

However, as we dive into this cinematic journey, bear in mind that Tarantino's narrative, much like his films, does not shy away from graphic language and imagery. So, here's our content warning: listener discretion is advised.

But now, the stage is set. So, get ready for the thrill of a lifetime as we turn the spotlight on Quentin Tarantino's cinematic world. Lights! Camera! Action!

The birth of a cinema aficionado

The year is 1970 — the age of alternative cinema and quirky theaters. Among them, the Tiffany Theater stands out, famously featuring offbeat films such as Alice's Restaurant and Yellow Submarine rather than mainstream hits like Oliver! or Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Enter Quentin Tarantino, all of seven years old. This year marks his maiden visit to the Tiffany Theater, accompanying his mom and stepdad to a double feature: Joe and Where’s Poppa? Not your typical family-friendly films, especially considering Joe's shocking plotline involving a father killing his daughter's drug-addict boyfriend and, ultimately, his own daughter.

However, the young Tarantino isn't horrified. Instead, he finds it amusing. He resonates with the adult audience's reactions, laughing when they do, even if he doesn't quite grasp the jokes. With every adult chuckle and every colorful bit of dialogue, Tarantino is enraptured. This isn't just a film; it's an experience, and to a seven-year-old, there's nothing more amusing.

His parents' frequent visits to the cinema become his cinema education — provided he behaves himself. He cherishes the car rides home, listening to his parents dissect the film they've just watched. He recognizes that he is viewing films that most kids his age aren't privy to. When he questions his mother, she asserts that movies are less worrying than the news, reasoning that he can "handle" the violence on the big screen as it's contextualized within a plot.

Ironically, the one film that overwhelms young Tarantino is Bambi. The sudden tragedy of Bambi's mother's death and the harrowing forest fire leave him deeply disturbed, causing him to speculate that this animated film has been emotionally scarring generations of children.

A pivotal shift in Tarantino's cinematic journey happens when his mother begins dating Reggie, a football player keen on impressing her. Reggie offers to take Tarantino to a movie — a double feature of Jim Brown’s Black Gunn and The Bus Is Coming. They walk in while The Bus Is Coming is playing to a crowd of Black spectators voicing their displeasure.

Finding their colorful commentary hilarious, Tarantino can't help but laugh. When Reggie inquires if he's having a good time, Tarantino shares his amusement with the audience's reactions. Reggie's response? “You’re a cool kid, Q." And just like that, Tarantino feels emboldened to voice his opinions, joining the crowd in their spirited commentary.

This experience is indelible in Tarantino's memory. It encapsulates the communal joy of cinema and becomes the standard he's sought to replicate throughout his career. In essence, it's a return to 1972, back in a Black cinema, watching a Jim Brown film with the uninhibited enthusiasm of a child.

"Do you feel lucky?" Unraveling the impact of Don Siegel's Dirty Harry

Time to turn our spotlight towards Don Siegel's tour de force, Dirty Harry. Quentin Tarantino considers Siegel an unparalleled master in the craft of capturing action scenes, particularly in the 50s. Siegel's prior stint in the montage department at Warner Bros equipped him with the skill to construct scenes ripe for crosscutting during editing.

But what really set Siegel apart from his contemporaries, according to Tarantino, was his approach to depicting action. Where others saw fistfights and shoot-outs as mere action sequences, Siegel portrayed them as brutal acts of violence, unflinchingly raw and intense.

Siegel's longstanding creative partnership with Clint Eastwood reached its zenith with Dirty Harry, marking a career-defining moment for both. For Eastwood, Dirty Harry was a break from his typical cowboy roles and for Siegel, it marked his coronation as the undisputed champion of cinematic violence.

Dirty Harry revolutionized cinema, birthing an entirely new genre. It centered on Eastwood's rebellious Inspector Harry Callahan grappling with Andrew Robinson’s psychologically complex serial killer, Scorpio — a fictional take on the infamous San Francisco “Zodiac Killer.” Thus, the cop vs. serial killer genre was born, a convention that remains central to cop movies to this day.

Tarantino presents Dirty Harry as a deeply political film. Siegel designed it for an audience of older Americans, those who felt alienated in the post-World War II era, disconnected from the burgeoning pop culture. To this audience, Callahan wasn't merely a maverick cop; he symbolized a solution to their anxieties — counterculture movements, emerging drug use, dissent against the police, the influx of free love, and more.

From its direction to its meticulously weaved humor amid the grisly thrill, Tarantino believes Dirty Harry stands as the pinnacle of Siegel's career — an unforgettable masterpiece of cinematic violence.

"Endless days that never cease": Unpacking Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver

At 15, Quentin Tarantino first experienced Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver at the Carson Twin Cinema in 1977, as the solitary non-Black audience member that day. The authentic and precise depiction of the 1970s New York street life resonated profoundly with the audience.

Tarantino contends that Taxi Driver bears striking resemblances to a 1956 film, The Searchers — so much so, it almost feels like a remake. He points out the mirroring characters: Robert De Niro's Travis Bickle is a mirror of John Wayne’s Ethan Edwards; Cybill Shepherd’s Betsy reflects Dorothy Jordan's Martha, and Jodie Foster's Iris Steensma echoes Natalie Wood's Debbie Edwards.

Taxi Driver takes us on a haunting journey into the life of Travis Bickle, a solitary figure lost in the mundane routines of his existence, whose only respite is his handwritten diary entries. Tarantino describes Bickle's chilling descent into "violent fantasies" and "perceived injustices," his mental state spiraling until he becomes a ticking time bomb.

Bickle's character is riddled with racism, albeit subtly. He uses a racial slur for Black people when discussing taxi drivers refusing certain fares. The film leaves no doubt that Bickle perceives all Black men as criminals — an attitude akin to Ethan Edward's hatred for the Comanches in The Searchers.

In Paul Schrader’s original script for Taxi Driver, all the characters killed by Bickle are Black, including the pimp, Sport. However, fearing potential race riots in response to the film, Columbia Pictures and the film's producer altered Sport's race from Black to white. Tarantino believes this fear was unfounded, given the era's abundance of films portraying Black people as criminals. Nevertheless, he admits that it's impossible to envision Taxi Driver without Harvey Keitel's iconic portrayal of Sport.

Tarantino emphasizes a significant divergence between The Searchers and Taxi Driver: In the former, Debbie never seeks salvation; in the latter, Iris does. Despite her later dismissal of the incident in Bickle's taxi, Bickle remembers and is spurred into a rescue mission.

Scorsese allegedly claimed to be "shocked" by the audience's response to Taxi Driver's intensely violent ending. But Tarantino disputes this, asking why wouldn't the audience root for Bickle when he attempts to save a 12-year-old Iris from the grips of pimps?

"A different ride altogether": Imagining Brian De Palma's version of Taxi Driver

Have you ever pondered what Taxi Driver might have looked like if directed by Brian De Palma? Well, Quentin Tarantino has. The idea isn't as far-fetched as it sounds — De Palma was, in fact, initially offered the project.

Screenplay writer Paul Schrader, then a film critic, had mentioned during an interview with De Palma that he'd written a script. De Palma read it and was impressed but couldn't commit to the project at the time, thinking it unlikely to score commercially.

Instead, Columbia Pictures took a gamble on Taxi Driver, marketing it as a Death Wish-style vigilante film. Martin Scorsese came across the script and became its most passionate advocate.

But let's indulge Tarantino's speculation. How different could De Palma's Taxi Driver have been?

Firstly, the film would have had a starkly different perspective. Tarantino believes De Palma would not have empathized with Bickle like Scorsese did. In Scorsese's hands, audiences became Travis Bickle — they might not empathize with him, but they understood him. He ceased to be merely a monster.

Tarantino thinks De Palma would have leaned closer to Roman Polanski's Repulsion than to Death Wish, creating a political thriller rather than a character study disguised as a vigilante thriller.

He imagines that De Palma might have framed Bickle's botched assassination in slow motion, akin to the prom scene in his own film, Carrie. Since Carrie would have been De Palma's project immediately following Taxi Driver, it gives a tantalizing glimpse into what might have been.

Tarantino speculates that Betsy's character would have been more prominent under De Palma's direction, possibly even a co-lead. Unlike Scorsese's singular focus on Travis's perspective, De Palma would likely have included some scenes from Betsy's viewpoint.

Would Robert De Niro still have been cast as Travis Bickle under De Palma? Tarantino doubts it. Even though De Palma and De Niro started their careers together, their collaboration in The Untouchables happened only in the 1980s. Scorsese had fought to cast De Niro, even waiting for him to wrap up other film commitments. Tarantino suggests De Palma might have gone with Jeff Bridges, Columbia's original choice, or perhaps Jan-Michael Vincent.

Finally, regarding the decision to change Sport's race from Black to white, Tarantino believes De Palma might have kept Sport Black, as Schrader initially intended, despite facing the same production pressures as Scorsese. This subtle but profound transformation of the original source material offers a glimpse into the multifaceted possibilities inherent in filmmaking.

"Walking the echoes of the damned": The power of silence in Don Siegel's Escape from Alcatraz

Now, let's delve into a rain-soaked world of isolation — Don Siegel's Escape from Alcatraz. Picture Frank Morris, embodied by Clint Eastwood, being led off a ferry and into the dreaded island prison during a relentless downpour. The echo of his footsteps on the concrete floor is the only sound that slices the silence, as he, naked and demeaned, is marched through the cell block. He's thrust into his cage, the cell door slamming behind him, reverberating in the eerie silence. The thunderclap, which coincides with the guard's first words — "Welcome to Alcatraz"— breaks the lingering silence, marking the start of Morris's confinement.

This captivating opening sequence was the only cinematic set piece Siegel used in the movie, and a young Tarantino, aged 17 at the time, was far from impressed when he first saw it. It wasn't until a few years later, upon rewatching it, that he began to appreciate its brilliance.

Siegel was no stranger to prison films, and Eastwood was one of his frequent collaborators. He considered Riot in Cell Block 11 to be his first excellent film — a sentiment echoed by Tarantino, who regards Riot as the best prison movie ever made. Even Richard Tuggle, who wrote the screenplay for Alcatraz, named Riot as his favourite prison film.

Tarantino imagines Siegel and Eastwood during the script discussions, debating how long the film should proceed before Morris speaks and how sparse the dialogue should be throughout. Tarantino describes the resulting opening as a piece of "bravura," its starkness creating a "cool boil."

Escape from Alcatraz presents the bleak monotony and brutal isolation of prison life in its first half, introducing a sadistic warden that revels in his cruelty. The second half unfolds the intricate escape plan. Unlike the typical high-stakes tension in most prison escape movies, Morris chips away at the Rock with nail clippers — an act that Tarantino describes as initially appearing futile, then motivating, and ultimately, epic.

According to Tarantino, the real victory in this true-life escape story was the perfect synergy between Siegel and Eastwood. Their collaborative effort propelled Eastwood from being a fleeting star to an iconic figure, while Siegel went from relative obscurity to becoming an A-list filmmaker. Their mutual respect, affection, and admiration led to an extraordinary partnership that culminated with Escape from Alcatraz, their final collaboration.

"Cinema and Conversations": Floyd's influential impact on young Tarantino

Quentin Tarantino's unparalleled understanding of cinema didn't blossom overnight — his journey into the world of film started young. He shares an intriguing backstory about how he, as a ten-year-old white kid, held captivating discussions about action and Blaxploitation movies with a 37-year-old Black man named Floyd.

As a 16-year-old, Tarantino was knee-deep in teenage rebellion — dodging classes, indulging in school fights, and defying curfews. In a bid to curb her son's unruliness, his mother rented out a room to Floyd, hoping he could help rein in the young Tarantino.

For one whole year, Floyd lived under the same roof, and their shared love for cinema led to countless movie nights, both at home and in theaters. The impact Floyd had on young Tarantino was monumental. Floyd penned two screenplays — the first ones Tarantino ever laid eyes on — and they spent countless hours dissecting, critiquing, and discussing them. It was Floyd's passion for storytelling that sparked Tarantino's interest in scriptwriting.

Sadly, Floyd's scripts were most likely discarded after his death. Tarantino admits that there wasn't a specific "scene, situation, idea, or image" from Floyd's scripts that made it into his own work. However, Floyd's ambition — his vision for an epic Western with a Black cowboy leading the charge — deeply influenced Tarantino, and traces of it can be seen in his wildly successful Django Unchained.