The Hateful Eight

If you thought The Force Awakens was heavy on fan service, well, Quentin Tarantino is not one to be outdone on anything. The Hateful Eight is the director’s most self-indulgent work since the Kill Bill duology, serving up heaping helpings of everything he loves: dirty lowlife characters with deceiving touches of eloquence, liberal appropriation of his favorite genre tropes (in this case, the Spaghetti Western), and long, talky exchanges of profane verbal fireworks, often just for the hell of it. And in addition to the splatter-ific bloodletting, there’s one of those shocking moments of excess where the filmmaker is obviously trying to repulse and offend. Whether or not all this is a good thing depends on how much the viewer likes Tarantino. But hate him or love him, it’s inarguable that this time all the technique and style on display is decidedly not utilized toward any greater, unifying point.

Despite the wonderfully dread-instilling Ennio Morricone score and the brief bits of stunning landscapes (obviously playing to its much-hyped 70 mm presentation, which I’ll get to later), the film is less Sergio Leone than Reservoir Dogs on the prairie. During a roaring blizzard, a nasty assortment of travelers—Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Walton Goggins, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Demián Bichir, Tim Roth, Michael Madsen, Bruce Dern, and James Parks (yes, there are actually nine, in spite of the more alliterative title)—take shelter in a one-room cabin in the Wyoming wilderness. With the Civil War in the not-too-distant past, the still-fresh wounds result in some immediate side-taking (to Tarantino’s detractors’ ire, the “N-word” is in frequent use, though Jackson never takes it sitting down). But after a few incidents where the tension in the room boils over, it becomes apparent that there’s some foul plot afoot, and no one is who they seem.

It takes a while to reach that point, however, for the film takes its sweet time getting to the cabin where the bulk of it plays out, and continues to do so once there. It waits too long to let a narrative finally take form, becoming a whodunit late in the game after several possible outcomes are already crossed off the list. It also makes the major mistake of walking the audience through it all, instead of offering mystery or misdirection to ponder. It frankly sucks the life out of its only shred of a driving plotline before it even picks up any steam. And that’s when there even is a plot; up until that point, it almost feels like an experimental dialogue exercise transcribed to screen.

Yet, as messy and dirty as it is, it’s also a lot of fun. There’s no denying the energy and skill in every scene. The dialogue exchanges are alternately tense and funny, horrible though they may be at times (in both the dirty and un-P.C. ways). The bursts of violence are also hilarious, displaying a mastery of molding shocking gore into an object of humor that any horror maestro would envy. And while the whodunit is a no-go and the trajectory of some characters is obvious, there’s some genuine surprise that certain players one initially pegs as “good” or “bad” finish in a much different position than expected, especially the seeming protagonists.

That doesn’t change the fact that it’s ultimately Tarantino’s most aimless film, but it’s rarely boring. If a yarn ends up going nowhere, better it be spun by a filmmaker with such talent and style than a mere pretender.

On the 70 mm presentation:

You’ve likely heard about the movie’s release in a roadshow version on old-school 70 mm film in a handful of theaters prior to a digital wide release. You might have also heard that some 70 mm screenings haven’t gone well. At the 70 mm screening I attended, the film looked great. I’m no expert on the particulars of film stock versus digital, but the difference is quite apparent, for the former lends a more real and detailed texture that’s mostly lost upon the glossier latter. It’s not essential for the experience to see it this way, but it’s a cool opportunity to take. One thing that is nice about the roadshow version, however, is the intermission just past the halfway point; even for the most hardcore Tarantino fans, the movie’s pushing it a bit at close to three hours.