In Detroit, a lonely pop culture geek marries a call girl, steals cocaine from her pimp, and tries to sell it in Hollywood. Meanwhile, the owners of the cocaine, the Mob, track them down in an attempt to reclaim it.
In Detroit, Clarence Worley goes to the movie theater alone on the day of his birthday to watch some movies. The gorgeous Alabama Whitman accidentally drops her popcorn on Clarence and they watch the movie together. Later they go to a diner for pie, and end up having a one night stand. In the morning, Alabama confesses that she is a call-girl hired to spend the night with him, but she has fallen in love with him. In the morning they get married and Clarence goes to the club where she worked to bring her some clothes. However, her pimp Drexl Spivey and his partner beat up Clarence and he reacts by killing them both. Clarence asks for Alabama's suitcase with her clothes and the other girls mistakenly give another one with cocaine. When Clarence discovers the mistake, he decides to travel with Alabama to the house of his friend, the aspiring actor Dick Ritchie, to sell the drug and travel to Mexico. He visits his father Clifford Worley and gives his address to him. But the Sicilian Mafia...Written by
Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Frankie's arm position when smoking a cigarette. See more »
In "Jailhouse Rock" he was everything rockabilly's about. I mean, he is rockabilly. Mean, surly, nasty, rude. In that movie he couldn't give a fuck about nothing except rockin' and rollin', living fast, dying young and leaving a good-looking corpse.
See more »
Film title logo at the end of the end credits. See more »
The Italian version omits a scene where the hitman tells Alabama that killing for the first time is the hardest, but that now he does it "just to see their f@$#ing expression change". See more »
True Romance is a celebration of film. It wallows in every possible seedy contrivance of American crime/action cinema. It is absolutely shameless in its exploitation of excessive violence, over-acting, melodrama, lurid sex, and rampant drug use...I love it. Quentin Tarantino, as I'm sure everyone knows, wrote the story, but it is the in execution that this film pays off. The cast, oh the cast: The lynchpins are Christian Slater and Patricia Arquette. They both give solid performances, which prevents the film from flying off the tracks; they serve as the pilot light. The supporting roles are the gas. The Walken/Hopper show down has been oft sighted as the film's best aspect, and this is, arguably, true. Just watch this scene and then watch it again. Sparks actually shoot out of the screen and burn people about the head and shoulders. OK, you've got Val Kilmer as the ghost of Elvis, Brad Pitt as a disgruntled pot-smoking loser, Tom Sizemore & Chris Penn as cops, James Gandolfini (pre-Sopranos) as a reflective hitman, and you've even got Bronson Pinchot (from TV's PERFECT STRANGERS) for God's sake. Did I forget Gary Oldman? Do yourself a favor and rent every single Gary Oldman related project (they're not all good films, but...). Why is Gary Oldman not in every film ever made? Why? I ask you why? He has got to be the best actor working today, hands down. As Drexel Spivey, Oldman chews the scenery, digests it, and then expels it from every orifice. Keep in mind that he is an English actor with a normal speaking voice at home in the Royal Shakespeare Company. His performance here is second only to his turn in LEON in blatant over-the-top insanity. Tony Scott, who along with his brother Ridley, has been known to over-direct a film or two, here chooses wisely to basically set up the camera and run. The score by Hans Zimmer adds a bouncy xylophone driven theme to the film and finds the right balance. This a well made, balls-to-the-wall, popcorn throwing, cult classic. In a market dominated with stereotypical characters, this movie avoids that trap by letting the stereotypes flourish with all the grotesque absurdity it can muster. 9/10
271 of 312 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful to you?
| Report this