Troy’s review published on Letterboxd:
An odd, odd film. Mournful and joyous, filled with discursions and seemingly unmoored from any concrete sense of timing or pacing. You could probably make a good case for this being a lesser Tarantino - I'm sure some would argue bottom-tier - and I expect reactions all across the board. And yet, as someone who has always been skeptical of Tarantino, I was spell-cast by Robbie's Sharon Tate - herself spell-cast by footage of the real Sharon Tate, a refractory prism of looking at and being looked at, some kind of meta-cinematic act of reincarnation - more than I have ever been captured by Tarantino. For once this didn't feel like Tarantino standing behind the counter of a Video Update counter lecturing me about all the B-movies he'd seen that I haven't, it felt more like an incantation and a prayer that we may all be saved from our obsolescence. A messy, messy film, but somehow, a kind one. Take off the grave clothes and let her go.