I'm not doing an article, but the director Tarantino has soured me with a past film or two, and trailers from others, with a kind of soul-less, nihilistic glee. As in Pulp Fiction where a condo full of undoubtedly foolish college boys are gunned down for absconding with a briefcase full of (we are left to guess) some kind of super valuable drugs. The rest of the movie is a festival of death. One street kid is blown away by shear fumbling with a weapon and a high cost fixer comes in to clean up the mess, specifically, his remains. After two hours of that -- beautifully colorfully dramatically presented -- I was really put off Quentin and his high art. His recent ninth movie, "Once Upon A Time In Hollywood," has all of his pizzazz, jubilant color and cinematography, and primo acting (Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, Margot Robbie) to spin a fantasy to redress exactly the kind of gratuitous violence the director has (to my sense) jubilantly celebrated. It's a re-do in the imagination of one of the horror crimes of Hollywood history, re-visulized with a better outcome, if violent. I recommend it.