Sound and self-reference: Robert Goulet singing “MacArthur Park” on a long-gone TV show; a defunct NBC network chime; that LAX corridor with pastel-color tile squares also seen in “Jackie Brown”; a sun-dappled-to-rust blue Karmann Ghia, palm-tree debris filthy and like one that had been in Tarantino’s family; the placement of the José Feliciano version of “California Dreamin’” and then “Out Of Time” under a montage of its characters in motion, on streets and freeways in falling dusk at the film’s final juncture between historic recreation and fairytale reinvention.
Some of the best sequences are just Dalton and Booth cruising the Hollywood hills and gunning it down the main drags of the City Of Angels as period-appropriate music – “California Dreamin’”, “Out Of Time” and a whole lot of stuff you won’t recognise but will instantly adore from Tarantino’s record collection – blasts from the radio.
Tarantino has even managed the unlikely feat of wedging "California Dreamin'" into this increasingly uneasy film—bypassing the chiming Mamas and Papas original and going instead with the darker José Feliciano cover version.
As the story’s mood turns dark, the recording of “California Dreamin’” you hear on the soundtrack isn’t the Mamas and the Papas’ creamy, sunset-flavored version, but a more foreboding one by José Feliciano, the sound of vultures circling.
Aparecen Bruce Lee, Steve McQueen, Sam Wanamaker, en la radio del auto se habla de Frank Sinatra, de la guerra de Vietnam y se escuchan temas como Mrs. Robinson, California Dreamin'.