In the 9th (by his own weird count that skips and combines however is needing for him to say he hasn't already made the ten he promised he would retire after), Quentin Tarantino delivers to viewers exactly what we have come to expect: a story mixing historical revisionism and alternative history with graphic violence, machismo, and the reduction of an Academy Award caliber actress (who is nominated for her role in Bombshell this year) to an attractive body and very few lines. Also included is the required closeup of very gross feet.

The story itself stars Leonardo DiCaprio as an aging actor and Brad Pitt as his equally aging stuntman. In a movie that might as well name the characters Leo and Brad, who cares what their names are? Margot Robbie plays Sharon Tate, and the movie teases her murder the whole time. When the time comes, though, the killers arrive at DiCaprio's home and are killed by himself and Pitt, who are drunk and, in Pitt's case, high on acid. It is also simply the latest film in a stream of self-serving nostalgic films about life in Hollywood, and I myself am just tired of these being rewarded.

In terms of faith and life, I would say that any lesson that could be learned in this film are cautionary ones. Whether it be the desire to remain or become relevant or the wish that we could go back and make things different to improve our current state, the film screams of regret, self-indulgence, and a glorification of times that really didn't exist. Well, they didn't exist unless you were a rich white man like the main character, the actors, or its creator. Sharon Tate (Robbie) is reduced to a ditsy young woman who is happy in her life, while the reality of her life was much more tragic, even before her murder, as she was held in her marriage through blackmail and emotional terrorism.

Overall, if you want to see a film that can inspire deep discussion or complex thought, watch something else.