Corey Donovan’s review published on Letterboxd:
Cool, rewatching this again is a terrible reminder for how much I miss theaters. Probably Tarantino’s best for its emotional and social relevancy regarding the Holy Land of commercial cinema. A brutal recognition of how love for the medium may not be able to save it from its ever-apparent death, the exponential growth of television and home entertainment—including burnt out living room star Rick Dalton and his silver screen aspirations. This is, and I will admit to its hyperbole, the Eros + Massacre for Tinseltown. The ideology, or rather dream is love (for cinema), the tragedy (recognizing that this is secondary to the cost of human life) is not knowing what to do with that when an era is seemingly on its last gasp. Replace political figures with pop culture/entertainment figures and tragedy is navigated through the dreams of cinematic revisionism in the place where dreams are and were supposed to be made. This might be the only fair way for Hollywood to grapple with historical tragedy, especially one in its own backyard. Grappling with it by recognizing that posing for a picture is in anticipation of death—Sharon Tate’s trip to the theater. Subverting that by having filmic reality beat out historical reality, allowing for a dialogue between eras that shifts from death to change. Searching for a melancholic hope of rebirth.