Is it a rumor that killed Booth’s career? What did Dalton—an emotional mess— bring to Hollywood that is unique among all the others gunning for the same status? Why did Tate become the star, while Pussycat—with mesmerizing blue eyes, who dances and romps as much as Tate—became the moldy hippie?

The actors playing them, especially DiCaprio, Pitt, and now Robbie, have persisted in their careers on screen perhaps because of reputations that are (mostly) scandal-free. But, even with their work ethic and clean records they have been competing with a flock of aspirants that had and gave everything they did. Why do we know their names and faces, and not others?

So, is destiny, a sequence of serendipities? Patrick Montgomery’s documentary “The Complete Beatles” (1982) suggests that the Fab Four kept rising because of a decade of lucky breaks, after which they fell apart. Nearly all my great personal, professional, and spiritual accomplishments—from fatherhood to epiphanies on life—can be traced back to chance encounters. This idea of the random luck of life feels embedded in Tarantino’s semi-fictional narrative.

Are rumors that powerful?

Why is Dalton, not Booth, the star? Cliff Booth has the charisma, gravitas, and smile of a leading man, but is a pariah who brings a bad “vibe” to a Hollywood set. He should be headlining your favorite action picture but is instead an unknown gofer and occasional stuntman for the fading Rick Dalton. His chiseled torso is now tanned leather as he sits on a hot Los Angeles roof reflecting on life while repairing a television antenna.

Perhaps it is because of the rumor that Booth killed his wife. The courts did not convict him, yet public opinion—at least in the industry—has ostracized him. One scene allows us to infer that a drunken Booth killed his complaining wife while sailing. He does not get upset in that scene, though for a moment in another scene he threatens his dog for whining. We do not find photos of Booth and his wife in his home, though we find enough—well-organized—dog food to feed a cavalry of canines. His ferocity in two scenes against members of the Manson family is so violent—though perhaps justified—that I cringed. On the flip side, he is compassionate toward a dying old man, fiercely loyal to his boss, and seems at peace with life’s vicissitudes. The film gives us leads to investigate the wife’s story, but they are all herrings as red as his wife’s hair.