Overflowing with Quentin Tarantino’s patented trademarks and motifs, The Hateful Eight is about as bloody and entertaining a “who done it?” as there is, yet is ultimately let down by the ego of the man behind the genius.
Tarantino likes to hear himself talk. This is not in reference to the constant stream of consciousness commentary that the Oscar winner has on most things (and how we wish he curbed that habit too), but rather to his dense screenplays which although filled with witty dialogue and some brilliant characterisations, are often too long, too plodding, and too wordy for their own good.
It seems that somewhere after his third feature Jackie Brown, Tarantino knew full well he had carte blanche to make his movies as long and wordy as he wanted. And while Tarantino’s long time executive producers Harvey and Bob Weinstein have no qualms chopping and changing the work of other filmmakers, there was no way they would mess with the QT money making machine.
The Hateful Eight is the latest case in point. Continuing with his western fascination (Django Unchained clearly didn’t exhaust that obsession), Tarantino does away with the genres greatest assets (vast landscapes, gun slinging anti-heroes riding on horseback) and opts for a more intimate and bloody setting as eight strangers with bad intentions find themselves cooped up in a haberdashery thanks to an unforgiving blizzard.
More John Carpenter than John Ford, these eight creations – among them grizzled bounty hunter John Ruth (Kurt Russell), his prisoner Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh), another bounty hunter Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson), new town sherrif Chris Mannix (Walton Goggins) and former confederate general Sanford Smithers (Bruce Dern) – are as typical a Tarantino creation as you will find: charismatic, with a tendency to talk (sweet Lord how they love to talk!), and embedded with a sadistic streak to bring on that patented Tarantino violence.
They are also incredibly hard to root for, even in that anti-hero sort of way found in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. Yet despite such obstacles, Tarantino knows how to engross and knows how to ramp up the stakes, with the rising body count magnifying a mystery that is as intriguing as it is simplistic in its structure.
The real strength of The Hateful Eight is its craft. Tarantino’s love for film (in this case the 70mm variety) brings with it much visual delights, with multi-Oscar winning cinematographer Robert Richardson delivering an outstanding visual tapestry of tone and colour from the snow covered terrain, to the blood soaked splatter that features throughout.
Most exceptional is the score by Ennio Morricone, a mixture of previous compositions from the likes of The Exorcist II and new melodies sure to rank amongst the legendary composers best. Of the many achievements in Tarantino’s career, there is no doubt paving the way for Morricone to receive his first Oscar is one of them.
There is a lot to love and admire in The Hateful Eight. If anything it proves that Tarantino continues to be one of the best individual filmmaking voices to grace the silver screen. Yet at 187 minutes it also proves his tendency for excess is a weakness that needs to be worked upon. With eight features now to his name (or eight and a half if you count Four Rooms) you would hope he’d learn by now.
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