This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
Nathan Sizemore’s review published on Letterboxd:
This review may contain spoilers.
I fully expected this second viewing to bump this one up into 90+ territory for me. It's a weird film in the Tarantino oeuvre. I love how uncomfortably he balances our affection for characters who are openly bigoted ("don't cry in front of the Mexicans", Bruce Lee needs to be taken down a peg, hippies are trash) and who may have (probably have) killed their wife with our disdain for the Manson Family. Nobody comes out looking particularly great, including Sharon Tate, who ultimately just feels a little full of herself and unconcerned about the three hippies who got killed next door. "Nobody comes out looking particularly great" could be the Tarantino mantra and one of the things I love most about his films. Even when they're killing Nazis or slave owners or cult murderers or Daisy Domergue there's always something that keeps you from completely embracing the lesser of the two evils. Like 95% embracing maybe.
Well, 95% embracing of Django and like 53% of Cliff Booth. 50.1% of Marquis Warren and Chris Mannix.
(Just to clarify, under 50% embracing is rejecting in this exercise.)