Cinema Speculation: how Tarantino reads 1970s cinema

Cinema Speculation blends memory and criticism. Tarantino revisits films that shaped his formative years to discuss how they work and how they might have been different.

A film book built from experience

Cinema Speculation appeared in English on 1 November 2022, published by Harper. It is a work of non-fiction, distinct from the novelisation of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Its structure is based on American films, mainly from the 1970s, and combines personal memories, critical judgements and questions about the decisions that shaped those works.

The contents page makes its scope clear without confusing it with an exhaustive history of the decade. It includes chapters on Bullitt, Dirty Harry, Deliverance, The Getaway, The Outfit, Taxi Driver and Rolling Thunder, among other titles. It stretches from the late 1960s to The Funhouse, from 1981. The dates delimit a viewer’s formation rather than a neatly closed administrative period.

The difference matters when reading it. One cannot expect a critical memoir to allocate space proportionally among all the movements of world cinema. One can expect its enthusiasms to be grounded in observations and its hypotheses not to supplant the facts. The book’s interest lies in that coexistence: the author recounts how a film reached him and then tries to explain why it deserves to remain a topic of discussion.

The reading becomes richer when two times are kept in view. There is the child or young person encountering a screening, and there is the adult filmmaker revisiting that memory with a different professional experience. Both can shed light on each other, but they are not equivalent. A remembered reaction does not represent all audiences; a later explanation does not reproduce the initial perception intact.

Actors, genres and films that might have existed

In his November 2022 review, David Bordwell noted the importance in the book of actors, characters, dialogue and audience response. He also highlighted the contrast Tarantino draws between filmmakers who question genres and others who seek to renew them through affection. That observation helps explain why his criticism can linger on an actor’s presence or a line of dialogue rather than on a technical description of the camera.

The actor does not appear merely as a piece carrying out the director’s plan. He brings expectations with him: ways of moving, previous roles and an image the audience recognises. Thinking of Steve McQueen in Bullitt makes it possible to ask how much the film depends on seeing him act without spelling out everything he thinks. That question places performance at the centre of the experience, rather than treating it as an embellishment of the plot.

The volume’s title reaches its most explicit formulation in the chapter that imagines Taxi Driver directed by Brian De Palma instead of Martin Scorsese. The alternative is a critical exercise, not an announcement that such a version exists. Its usefulness lies in forcing a more precise account of what makes the actual film specific: what would change in tone, in the relationship with the protagonist or in the staging if another sensibility were organising it.

The same method can be applied to an imagined cast or a script decision, but that hypothetical status has to be preserved. A possibility is suggestive when it reveals something that had previously gone unnoticed. It loses force if it ends up replacing analysis with a desire for a film that does not exist. Reading the book attentively includes enjoying the author’s imagination without turning his alternatives into production facts.

The chapters on works less often present in the usual lists also broaden the reader’s map. The contents page places The Outfit and Paradise Alley alongside much more frequently cited titles. That coexistence makes it possible to discuss genre cinema without expecting all its achievements to take the form of a monumental work. A performance, a relationship between characters or a resolution can justify attention that general reputation had not granted.

How to make use of its enthusiasms and disagreements

The book is especially productive as a viewing companion. Reading a chapter after the film allows an assertion to be tested against scenes still fresh in the memory. Doing so beforehand can guide attention, but it can also give away plot details. It is not a collection designed to preserve systematically every surprise for someone unfamiliar with the works discussed.

Its personal tone does not demand agreement either. A sharp remark can be entertaining and still call for discussion. The reader may share the description of a device while disagreeing with the value Tarantino assigns to it. That possibility distinguishes criticism from a simple instruction to consume: what matters is what it enables us to see, even when it does not fully persuade.

The relationship with Pauline Kael as a critical reference helps place that voice, while his film reviews show the exercise in texts of another kind. Cinema Speculation offers a broader space in which to connect memories, films and arguments. Its greatest value is not in turning Tarantino’s taste into a compulsory canon, but in opening up a concrete conversation about images that continue to produce pleasure, discomfort and disagreement.

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