There’s good Tarantino – Pulp Fiction, and
there’s bad – Django Unchained comes to mind. Let’s add his
latest, The Hateful Eight, to the bad list but it
could have been so good. Someone needs to give director Quentin Tarantino
a machete to cut this film from three hours to less than two. Someone needs to
not be so indulgent with Quentin being so full of himself, and just say, “Get
on with the story.”
The opening scenes are gorgeous as we watch a stagecoach in
the snow. He also shows what looks like a gnarled tree is actually a stone
crucifix – ah, symbolism. In the first hour, we pile a mix of outlaws and
lawmen into the coach, only to arrive at Minnie’s Haberdashery in a blizzard,
and find another group of suspicious characters. The clock is ticking for a
bloodbath. Samuel L. Jackson is a principled bounty hunter given to well
proclaimed pronouncements. Kurt Russell is holding onto Jennifer Jason Leigh,
an urchin outlaw. There’s a sheriff, a hangman, cowboy, and a general.
There is leftover feelings from the Civil War and banter on racism and bigotry.
Too much meandering, too much rambling talk, too many cold characters we don’t
care about.
In the final thirty minutes, we find out why everyone is at
Minnie’s except Minnie and her husband. Tarantino flashes back to show us the
behind the scenes gathering of these vultures. It’s almost like an Agatha
Christie game of Clue, only with extreme violence. It’s a shame. The acting is
fine. There’s some interesting dialogue. It’s filmed richly and the musical
score is grand. But, The Hateful Eight is cold and ugly, devoid
of a reason to unspool.
