WELL now, To Die For is almost enough to restore one’s faith in the American cinema. It is “based on a true story,” which is today’s magic film formula. At worst, this means guaranteeing the audience something more authentic than the typical Hollywood tall tale, while (under the cover of “based on”) spinning a large ball of Hollywood yarn around a small spool of reality. At best, however, it means something like this film.
Shrewdly, To Die For is a comedy, which is highly advisable nowadays. The grisliest brutality is, of course, permissible, provided it is as unserious as a preposterous car chase or a performance by Brad Pitt or Antonio Banderas. Anything weightier than that must be sneaked in in a format you can laugh off. Quentin Tarantino has figured this out: he offers his spurious material in a risible package and assumes it will be taken seriously. And, sad to say, it is.




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