Tarantino latest director to beg critics not to divulge new film's secrets — and he's right, writes Ann Hornaday.
Spoilers raise questions not just about pop culture etiquette but also about ethics. In Cannes last week, Quentin Tarantino became the latest film-maker to jump on an increasingly vocal bandwagon. In an open letter posted on the social media page of his new movie Once Upon a Time ... in Hollywood, he begged critics and journalists attending his movie's premiere to avoid "revealing anything that would prevent later audiences from experiencing the film" the way he and his collaborators intended: as something fresh, surprising and original.
Tarantino's plea took a page from a similar letter written by Korean film-maker Bong Joon-ho a few days earlier, which itself followed an infamous message posted on Twitter by Avengers: Endgame directors Joe and Anthony Russo, asking fans to refrain from spoiling the film after they'd seen it. "Thanos demands your silence," they added, maybe half-jokingly.
Liberated practices of spectatorship and public cultural discourse have fostered their own self-regulating system of policing and instant correction: Ask random DIY critics on Instagram what happens when they divulge a crucial twist or plot point, and they'll happily show you the scars. As for the statute of limitations — the proper time when viewers can safely discuss something without fear of instant tweet justice — that's a matter of loose consensus, although even Avengers star Chris Evans couldn't help ribbing the Russo brothers for announcing that their self-imposed ban would be self-lifted two weeks into the movie's run. "Does that mean I can start posting set videos on Monday?" he asked, maybe half-jokingly.
For his part, Tarantino came in for almost instant pushback from journalists at Cannes who took offence at his micromanaging, they were then flayed by QT fans who came to their hero's defence.
For professional critics, though, spoilers raise questions not just about pop culture etiquette but also about ethics, craft and, on a more existential level, reason for being. There are those critics whose primary job has historically been to summarise a movie for the benefit of industry insiders. Reviewers writing for general audiences are in a more delicate position: We're addressing readers who approach reviews for a variety of reasons, not limited to helping them decide whether they want to see a particular film. Perhaps they want to keep abreast of cultural and cinematic trends. Or they've already seen the movie and want to compare notes.
My own spoiler consciousness-raising occurred at my first job as a staff critic in Texas. A friend who ran the Austin Film Society called me on a Friday and didn't mince words.
"Please don't give so much away in your reviews," she implored.
"When you give the whole story away, you're ruining it."
I realised she was right: I had committed the sin of every lazy film critic, which is to confuse synopsis with analysis. I might not have divulged major twists or surprise endings, but in devoting the ballast of my reviews simply to rehashing plots I had leeched the pleasure of unfolding delight that defines cinema at its most immersive and enjoyable.
The anti-spoiler brigade might sound self-serving, but they're not wrong to remind critics, as Bong wrote, that the audience deserves to "experience bated breath at every turn of the story".