More often than not, I find Stu VanAirsdale to be a world class champ at blowing hot air. But even I have to admit he’s writing exactly what I’m thinking with this open letter to Quentin Tarantino.
The key excerpt, which sticks the landing:
Meanwhile, in a move pulled unusually early from the dogeared Weinstein Textbook, the press is doing your fundraising for you. We’d give you Provincetown if not for the embarrassing leaks that followed this week, one after another — the kickdowns to Nikki Finke (“Quentin Tarantino is talking to Brad Pitt”!) and now this Inglorious Basterds [sic] script over at Vulture, itself the venerated “basterd” offspring of your insolvent patron’s public studio-shopping. Mission accomplished, we suppose, if overexposure is what you had in mind. The anonymous media saturation is supposed to come just before the release, not just before the money runs out.