Certainly Hateful

Rating: 3/10 (21 January 2016)

*not any spoilers but still covering my butt to be safe*
Huge Tarantino fan. Have always loved his work. As a writer/actor, he's been an influence on my own work, as I know he has been for many others. However, after this film, I do find myself questioning that influence. Jackie Brown, Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill - all fantastic films in my opinion. For me, my disillusionment with Tarantino started around Death Proof. Kurt Russel was a hoot and the climactic care chase was appropriately engaging, but the rest of the film just dragged. This downward trend has only grown worse with subsequent films. Inglorious Basterds was three brilliant, classic scenes trapped in a lesser film. Django was perhaps one. Hateful Eight? Honestly, there's not much too say that hasn't already been said.
Every scene is a clunker. The dialogue is exhausting and not particularly interesting. Just folks jawing on and on about things that happened in the past or notorious acts committed by other characters. The violence (when it finally does come) is over the top and mean spirited, unleashing itself in geysers of viscous, kool-aid colored viscera. The N-word use is unrelenting and pulls you out of the movie. The movie by the way - it's long, it's way too long. Not that I mind a long film, but it needs to be a better story than this to hold my attention for three sadistic hours. The setting grows old. Every character is unlikeable (I guess what should I expect from a movie called The Hateful Eight?) I suppose Sam Jackson is likable, but he's still a nihilistic, cruel murderer. His performance also feels wayyyyy too modern. Walton Goggins seems like he's in another movie. Kurt Russel does a great John Wayne, but unfortunately doesn't get to be the bad mother we all wanted to see. Demian Birchir is a Looney-tunes style caricature of a Mexican. Jennifer Jason Leigh is essentially a snarling demon, which she does incredibly well, but is equally one note and abrasive. Michael Madsen is barely given anything to do. Bruce Dern is terribly wasted as well. Tim Roth isgood, I guess? I didn't listen to anything he particularly said, but he was there. Zoe Bell shows up in a flashback and manages to deliver in roughly five minutes of screen time the most cloyingly over the top and annoying performance in recent memory.
The good? Is there any? Well, yes. The score is haunting and instantly iconic. The costumes are rich and unique. I couldn't help but feel that every character seemed like a certain type of animal based entirely off of their costumes. Owl, raccoon, bear, crow, bison. That was interesting. That's about all the good. I truly can't recommend this to anyone, not even a Tarantino fan. The guy has became too obsessed with his own "voice". Quite Literally. At one point he even begins to narrate the proceedings for you. Why? Because why the heck not? Which is precisely what Tarantino seemed to decide when he wrote this. I doubt that Tarantino will ever read this inconsequential review from one miffed fan, or any of these, or that they would have any bearing on his future work, but if he does, I hope he'll see that the consensus seems to be he needs to reign it in a little bit. I know he has threatened to retire after ten films. I truly hope that isn't the case. I'll always be interested in what he comes out with next. His earlier work has certainly earned him the right to a film lover's attention. But if he makes another three hour film like this one.