Video game journalist, film lover
Rewatch after reading the - mostly embarrassing, sometimes surprisingly sweet - novelisation, which shed a warmer light on its nostalgia. But I still don’t get it, or really see how it isn’t just deeply reactionary. After Inglorious Basterds and Django? Tarantino’s next revenge fantasy is… the triumph of the mid-life, mid-century white action man?
Still. Love Leo, love Margot, love Margaret Qualley and the songs and the sets and the stunning recreation of time and place. But Tarantino’s always been a yarn-spinner, not a world-builder. Maybe he got lost in the details this one time, I dunno.
Ivy, 2, napping since the start, woke up in the middle, drifting confusedly in and out of consciousness during the bus stop scene, then watching the search for Mei quietly, and finally laughing with delight and recognition when Totoro and the cat bus showed up at the end - as if she had always known them. Perhaps the best way for her to experience this film for the first time.
A stunningly realist film, for all its whimsy, about how childhood bridges a gap to the world we live in.