6 — Friday, September 20, 2019
Arts
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ANNOUNCEMENT

By Kathy Wienberg and Lewis Rothlein
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
09/20/19

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

09/20/19

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Friday, September 20, 2019

ACROSS
1 “... harmony 
in the motion 
and magnitude 
of the __ ... ”: 
Copernicus
5 Out, perhaps
9 Maintain
14 Stable newborn
15 Particle in a 
beam
16 Lifetime parent
17 Asian tourist city
18 Initial game 
payment
19 Lengthy sentence
20 What included 
a top hat, for 
Lincoln?
23 Prohibition __
24 Support gp. 
founded under 
FDR
25 Like Yosemite’s 
El Capitan
26 Unvarnished 
inventions?
31 P&L report 
column
32 Symbol of ease
33 Part of a baby’s 
repertoire
34 Stops lying?
37 One often stands 
alone in a split
38 Devote, as time
40 Gp. inducted into 
the Rock and Roll 
Hall of Fame in 
2017
41 They’re often 
seen on trees
42 Disposed of
43 Citi Field 
catcalls?
48 “The Night 
They Invented 
Champagne” 
composer
49 Mentalist Geller
50 Sch. in 
Manhattan
53 Joe-induced 
speaking clarity?
57 Get around
58 Food stamp?
59 67, for 
Beethoven’s Fifth
60 Invisible turnout?
61 Unlikely
62 Olive Oyl’s 
mother

63 Wound up
64 Goes after
65 Go around in 
circles?

DOWN
1 18 or 21, typically
2 Court rival of 
Rafael
3 Bill for shots
4 Picket fence 
piece
5 Assembled
6 Small chocolate-
covered candy
7 Classic 
accusation
8 Moccasin leather
9 Asked for ID
10 Victory wreath
11 Lestat de 
Lioncourt creator
12 Promises at the 
altar
13 YMCA part
21 Mongolian tents
22 Butter used 
to deep-fry 
samosas
27 Agreement word
28 Mimicry
29 Geological time 
span

30 Scandinavian 
roofing material
34 Whistle-blower
35 Down with the flu
36 Deep South 
cuisine
37 Pesto ingredients
38 Poker-faced
39 Nave seat
41 New Zealand 
bird
42 Reception aids
44 1959 Fiestas hit

45 Followed
46 Confused mess
47 Ubiquitous 
YouTube button 
... and a hint to 
four long Across 
answers
51 Squeak or creak
52 Take back
53 Prop for Chaplin
54 The Bard’s river
55 Biblical hunter
56 Atmosphere

It’s interesting to me how the “love letter” analogy is tossed 
around by critics. Sometimes, it’s called for. Hanif Abdurrqib 
writes a love letter to A Tribe Called Quest in “Go Ahead in 
the Rain.” Damian Chazelle writes a love letter to Los Angeles 
in “La La Land.” Other times, however, it can be used to justify 
disfigurations of love and, untimately, conceal their harm. 
Recently, it has been invoked in misguided praise of Quentin 
Tarantino’s three-hour, mostly meandering but ultimately 
vindictive opus, “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.”
The film does not exactly have a premise; rather, it drifts from 
(white) Hollywood figure to figure. Instead of a liberating drift, 
though, these lengthy, indulgent scenes mire each character in 
discomfiting fantasies of their director. Tarantino’s Sharon Tate 
(Margot Robbie, “I, Tonya”) is a ditzy starlet who goes to a theater 
and enjoys watching herself play the sexist part she got in a movie. 
Tarantino’s Bruce Lee (Mike Moh, “Empire”) gets his ass kicked 
by a white, widowed stunt man (Brad Pitt, “Deadpool 2”), and it’s 
extra vindicating because Tarantino portrays Lee as a boastful, 
overrated martial artist. Did I say widower? The stunt man, Cliff 
Booth, is also suspected of killing his wife, but she was rude to 
him in a flashback, so Tarantino’s justice is that the stunt man 
probably got to take out his wife for free.
Still, this is a Tarantino film, so instead of even looking for a 
premise, let’s instead call it his “excuse for a violent climax.” In 
“Once Upon a Time,” that excuse is the haphazard interweaving 
of the Manson Family, partway into the backdrop, partway into 
the secondary cast. In a single scene that contains the violence 
Tarantino usually seems to prefer to distribute more evenly 
throughout his films, the two stars of the film, Booth and Rick 
Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio, “The Revenant”), are attacked by 

Manson Family members, but in Tarantino’s reimagining — 
complete with death-by-flamethrower — the (white) Hollywood 
guys win. That seems to be the ultimate, gruesome and vindictive 
point Tarantino is making. What does that leave the audience 
with, or Hollywood with, aside from a lust for violence and the 
unchecked ways of Hollywood’s past?
I don’t know if Hollywood wants to be avenged, and even less 
sure that it needs to be avenged. What it needs much more than 
vindication or even love is renewal. “Once Upon a Time” doesn’t 
offer that, or anything more than its director’s problematic 
fantasies.

— Julianna Morano

Over the course of my time at The Daily, I’ve reviewed a lot 
of lower quality Netflix films. As cringe-inducing and painful as 

some of these new releases about high school antics and poorly 
executed heists can be, I would opt to watch them all on repeat 
if it meant erasing the trainwreck that was “Once Upon a Time 
in Hollywood” from my memory. I’ve always prided myself on 
the fact that I’ve never walked out of a theater in the middle of 
a movie. Watching “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” was the 
first time I wish I did. No amount of over-buttered popcorn or 
Twizzlers could have amended my movie-going experience.
Despite having two dynamite, A-list actors at his disposal, 
Tarantino’s picture flounders. As a former die-hard (now tempered) 
Leonardo Dicaprio fan, you can imagine my disappointment when 
his character, Rick Dalton, turns out to be a dull paperdoll of a 
man. A reflection of the movie as a whole, Dalton is straight up 
boring, minimally developed and has no real chemistry with his 
co-star Brad Pitt. I get that the late ’60s music, street children 
and druggie vibes were reminiscent of a romanticized decade, 
but that sort of nostalgia simply is not enough to carry a whole 
film. I’d perk up at every glimpse of a turning point, only to be let 
down again and again when no forward momentum was maide. 
I’m traditionally a fan of Tarantino’s non-linear filming style, but 
there are far too many pieces in “Once Upon a Time” left not only 
unconnected, but permanently unresolved.

If you’re going to make a mind-numbingly boring movie, at 
least have the courtesy to make it brief. “Once Upon a Time in 
Hollywood” spans close to three hours. And we are aware of 
every minute passing (really though, I checked my phone more 
times than I’m proud to admit). If you have intentions of seeing 
Tarantino’s latest flick, tread lightly. The sea of rave reviews 
deceived me, and you may fall destined for a similar fate.

— Samantha Nelson

Rarely do I change my opinion on a movie. While that may 
not be the most constructive way to critique films, it’s honest. 
My gut reaction to “Once Upon a Time” was total disinterest. I 
found the first two hours of the film to be unbelievably boring, to 
a degree that completely shocked me. I’ve felt a lot of things while 
watching films by Quentin Tarantino, but never boredom. The last 
act of the film, which has been praised for its shock and audacity, 
entertained me in the moment, but left me feeling “so what” by the 
time the credits rolled.
I’m about to sound hypocritical given I just said I don’t often 
change my views on movies, but “Once Upon a Time” has caused 
me to re-evaluate my entire relationship with Quentin Tarantino. 
As a young adult I loved his films. I thought they were funny, 
clever and exciting. But that feeling of “so what” that haunted 
me after I watched an alternative history in which Sharon Tate is 
never killed and the Manson murders never happen slowly began 
to extend to the rest of the Tarantino canon. You can make movies 
where Jews get to kill Hitler and Jamie Foxx gets to shoot up racist 
slave owners. But so what? Yeah, it would be nice if a lot of the 
bad shit that’s happened over the course of world history didn’t 
happen. But it did. I’m still working through what that means; 
more specifically, that I don’t think Tarantino movies “mean” 
anything. Maybe that’s fine. Maybe just being entertaining is 
enough. But in an increasingly complicated world, I don’t know 
how much room we still have to enjoy uncomplicated catharsis.

— Ian Harris

Three critical takes on Quentin Taratino’s ‘Once 
Upon a Time in Hollywood.’ TL;DR: not good.

FILM: ROUNDTABLE REVIEW

JULIANNA MORANO
Daily Arts Writer

COLUMBIA PICTURES

COLUMBIA PICTURES

SAMANTHA NELSON
Daily Arts Writer

IAN HARRIS
Daily Arts Writer

I get that the late ’60s 
music, street children 
and druggie vibes 
were reminiscent 
of a romanticized 
decade, but that sort 
of nostalgia simply is 
not enough to carry a 
whole film.

When I had the opportunity to see “Wicked” on 
Broadway again this summer, I didn’t expect the 
piece to strike me differently than my previous 
viewings. My preconceived thought: Once you 
learn all the lyrics, have a vague awareness of 
the blocking and have each costume memorized 
there’s no room for surprise, right? Wrong. 
“Wicked” is more than a tourist attraction and an 
entertaining spectacle — it is a call to action. 
I used to leave the Broadway smash hit out of my 
favorite musical list whenever someone asked. It 
felt cliché for someone who loves musical theatre 
as much as I do to admit that my favorite musical 
isn’t some niche, hipster, singer-songwriter 
Broadway musical that nobody has ever heard of. 
“Wicked” is the story of the land of Oz before 
Dorothy and the yellow brick road. It follows 
brazen, emerald skinned Elphaba, an astute, 
misunderstood young woman sent to boarding 
school to look after her sister, wheelchair-bound 
Nessarose. In an unlikely turn of events, she falls 
into a friendship with bubbly girly-girl Glinda 
and the two go on a journey together through 
the world as they know it, working for the world 
Elphaba hopes Oz will become. “Wicked” is a 
whirlwind of emotions and manages to land 
humor, heartbreak, feminism and friendship all 
within the span of two hours and 45 minutes. It 
is also the first Broadway show that ever left me 
speechless — a difficult feat to accomplish. 
The first time I saw the show was in 2006 with 
my mother in Philadelphia. At the age of seven, I’d 
been exclusively listening to the CD soundtrack 
since I’d received it for Christmas. We drove to 
Philadelphia and played the soundtrack twice 
through on our way there, singing along and 
swapping roles in our two-woman production. I 
can’t remember the experience of seeing the show, 
but I remember walking to the bathroom with my 
mom after the curtain call. She was sobbing. The 
piece had emotionally affected my mother, a 33 
year old woman, to the point of tears, and I didn’t 
understand if they stemmed from sadness or from 
wonder. Afterward, I asked her if I was Elphaba 
or Glinda, hoping she’d tell me I was the beautiful 
blonde with the sparkly bubble and pink glittering 

gowns. Instead, she told me I was Elphaba: smart, 
fearless, brave and filled with heart. As a seven 
year old concerned mostly with exterior image, I 
was disappointed that my mother didn’t see me as 
the “popular” good witch whom everyone adored. 
When I saw it most recently this July, 14 
years later, I brought new experiences and 
pieces of my ever forming identity with me. 
“Wicked” revealed itself as my favorite musical — 
unabashedly, without a shadow of a doubt. In its 
simplest reading, “Wicked” is about a young girl 
who does not fit into a society because she looks 
different than the majority. When you look past 
the dazzling production numbers, immaculate 
set and intricate costumes, the plight of Elphaba 
can be compared to the wider sociopolitical 
sphere in the United States and our individual 
stories as well. In the Gershwin theatre this July, 
in a country where slews of racist, homophobic, 
xenophobic and sexist things happened just that 
day, I realized the necessity and urgency under 
the glamour of this piece of theatre.
“Wicked” is about love, yes, a heterosexual 
relationship between a cisgender man and a 
cisgender woman. But it is about more than that. 
It is about a female friendship, a friendship that 
pushes itself to the limits and almost flounders 
more than once. The book is genius as it sets 
up Elphaba and Glinda to careen into the catty 
stereotype of fighting over a man, a common 
trope both on stage and in film. But instead of this 
man, Fiyero, destroying their relationship and 
showcasing both leading ladies as airy half shells 
of female characters, his character is a device in 
making their friendship a feminist relationship. 
Glinda urges Fiyero to leave her to be with 
Elphaba. She does this because she recognizes 
that her love for Fiyero pales in comparison to her 
desire for both Elphaba and Fiyero to be happy. 
Her mature choice to walk away from Fiyero so 
that her best friend can be happy and pursue her 
dreams makes her the hero of the story. In Glinda 
I see my mother, I see all of the female friends who 
have put me before themselves, I see the women 
who have become my sisters, who have changed 
my life for good. 

A most ‘Wicked’ summer

ELI RALLO
Daily Arts Writer

COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK

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