There are many things Hollywood is known for: lavish parties, subtle (or not so subtle) plastic surgery, the concept of juice as a meal. What it is not traditionally known for is honesty. I live in Los Angeles, work in the entertainment industry when I’m not moonlighting as a semi-reputable journalist and have done my fair share of lying … or, more accurately, omitting the truth. One of the least pleasant experiences in town is being asked to give honest feedback to someone who is at best an acquaintance. It’s worse yet if that person is a friend, lover or family member who actually takes your opinion seriously. Overall, the notion of offering honesty to a peer is akin to rubbing poison oak on your privates.

And yet, despite knowing how gruesome this can be, I still solicit feedback on scripts, films and even nascent ideas I’m toying with. Naturally, I feel guilty doing it. I blubber about how gracious the person is for taking the time to engage with my creative output, how generous they are and how crucial this step is to any sort of actual success in the industry. I’m even lying when I say that to someone. I should tell them: “I’m sorry I just asked you to do the equivalent of punching several of your own teeth out for free. Please don’t destroy my self-esteem completely. Let my mother finish the job.”

When someone is brutally forthcoming with their true feelings about something or someone in Hollywood, it’s absolutely jarring. We all signed a metaphorical pact to never divulge what we actually believe, to always spare the feelings of someone who could speak ill of us later and to be, at most, highly passive-aggressive or sarcastic. I’ve lived here for nearly 20 years, and I like it this way. I used to imagine there was a level of success that afforded you the opportunity to opt out of the Hollywood social contract. I don’t know if Orson Welles ever had a nice thing to say about another person in the film business, but at least he was funny about it. As you know, he’s dead now, so he doesn’t have to worry about getting dragged on social media for calling Humphrey Bogart a coward. Quentin Tarantino, however, is very much not dead and still lobbing bombs at his sole discretion.

The latest object of Tarantino’s ire is the actor Paul Dano, who, according to Tarantino, single-handedly ruined Paul Thomas Anderson’s masterpiece There Will Be Blood. Tarantino appeared on Bret Easton Ellis’s podcast and declared Dano “the weakest fucking actor in Sag” and “the limpest dick in the world”. He doesn’t simply dislike the man’s work. He thinks he is the worst working actor in America. That would include LeBron James, who is presumably a Sag member after starring in the Razzie award-winning Space Jam: A New Legacy. Would swapping King James for Dano as Eli Sunday make There Will Be Blood a better film, then? Only if there’s a scene of Eli dunking on Daniel Plainview.

Since this is Hollywood, no one has come out and agreed with Tarantino, but numerous big names have publicly supported Dano. This is far from the first time Tarantino has come for a beloved movie fixture. In 1992, Tarantino roundly panned David Lynch’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me after it premiered at the Cannes film festival, declaring that “David Lynch has disappeared so far up his own ass that I have no desire to see another David Lynch movie until I hear something different”. That film was a notorious bomb that was booed at Cannes, so it was a safe opinion to have at the time. But today, Fire Walk With Me has been reappraised by critics and audiences, and is now considered one of the late director’s finest works. Whoops.

Tarantino has been piercing the veil of Hollywood decorum for decades now, but it seems that he finally picked the wrong target. Dano is 41 years old, but has the cherubic face of a teenager who spends most of his time sorting Pokémon cards. You want to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair, then tell him: “Go get ’em, champ.” Making fun of Dano is like kicking a bunny at a birthday party. He looks like the counselor at a Lutheran summer camp. How can you hate that guy? Why would you hate that guy? You’re picking on the quiet accountant who brings homemade brownies for everyone at work. More importantly, you’re breaking the social pact of the entertainment business: never, ever say anything cruel about someone who’s successful, even if you sincerely believe it.

When a person violates this unwritten rule, they behave as if they are above the law. What all of this makes clear is that no one is successful enough to be honest, and that you can be an acclaimed filmmaker and still be completely wrong about art. I will go on lying, omitting and smiling when all I want to do is frown. If Tarantino can’t get away with it, why would I?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going off to finish the third act of my Space Jam 3 spec script. I think Dano would be great opposite Bugs Bunny.

Dave Schilling is a Los Angeles-based writer and humorist