THE HATEFUL EIGHT; FULL-TILT REVIEW

“OHHH, you believe in Jesus now, huh, bitch? GOOD, 'CAUSE YOU 'BOUT TO MEET HIM!”

Major Marquis Warren 

The one on the left is hateful. So is the one on the right. Who's the most hateful? Watch and find out... Maybe.

Synopsis:

Daisy Domague is a cunning and feral criminal being escorted by famed bounty-hunter 'the Hangman' to the town of Red Rock, where her execution will take place. But the arrival of a sudden and terrible blizzard means he's forced to take shelter in Mia's Haberdashery with a group of enigmatic strangers; among them another bounty-hunter, the sheriff and the hangman of Red Rock, a Southern Civil War veteran, a cattle driver, and the Mexican left to run the premises in the absence of the real owners. However, one or more of those sheltering inside the haberdashery may be lying about who they are, and why they are present, and so begins a tense game of cat-and-mouse between those gathered. Emotions run high as the storm outside rages, and the only certainty is that before the night is out, blood will spill.

Script: 1/2

It's a Tarantino script, so, as you'd imagine, the dialogue is slick in that special Tarantino way, and plays like a western retelling of John Carpenter's The Thing, only with added “mother fucker”.

The problem in that is, Tarantino only writes in the one voice, which means everybody talks the exact same way- the talented cast can only disguise that so much, and after so many films the trick is becoming all the more noticeable: everybody is playing a version of Tarantino... It also has to be said, Tarantino doesn't really concern himself with accuracy when it comes to a' cussing, and his use of pulling the race card, while revisionist at first, soon grows tedious and, worryingly, a little gleeful.

Pace: 0/2
Oh. My. God. This one really, really takes it's sweet time. The story (a relatively straight froward whodunnit in a novelty western setting) warranted about 90 minutes to work successfully, but this beast takes over 2 and a half hours. I feel like 15 minutes of that was spent sitting through the credits, forced to watch a distant coach slowly make its way towards the screen. I mean, this really drags. Drags. Is this clear enough? When these people talk (as they do at length in that very special “I'm Quentin Tarantino and when I start writing I never fucking stop” sort of way) they go on, and on, and on. I read once that the key to a great screen-writing sequence is come in late and leave early, essentially just cover the important bit. Apparently, Tarantino's never heard of that advice...

Acting: 2/2
Everybody convinces; the eight truly are a hateful bunch. So much so that I didn't really care when any of the eight start to perish. Samuel L. Jackson plays Quentin Tarantino (or more accurately, the person Quentin Tarantino probably wishes he was), who also happens to be a bounty hunter with issues around slavery, as you'd reasonably expect. Kurt Russell also plays Quentin Tarantino who also happens to be a bounty hunter. He's escorting Jennifer Jason leigh, who also plays Quentin Tarantino and happens to be the murdering leader of an outlaw gang. And so on. Yes, my joke may sound a little unfair but it's sadly on the money, although I can't blame the cast for this.

Aesthetic: 2/2

The film is beautiful, no 2 ways about it. Tarantino is certainly an enthusiastic cinephile, and, love or hate his films, that enthusiasm is almost palpable. Every frame of the film is a work of art, from the wide open landscapes, the confined quarters of the coach-house, to the creased and weathered close-ups of scowling faces. The costumes all look of the period (all be it stylishly heightened), and the sets all feel used and dirt-flaked. That, and the cold wilderness and the raging blizzard is captured incredibly. Rarely (if ever) has a film actually made me feel so cold while watching it.

Intention: 1/2
This is Tarantino back on the right track in so much as the story is it's own thing. While it may be heavily inspired by Sergio Leone style 'spaghetti westerns', it's not the usual patchwork of better films and contrasting styles (see Kill Bill 2, Inglorious, Death proof and Django). That said, Tarantino is still reluctant to break from his comfort zone; it's Reservoir Dogs with cowboys, hardly breaking new ground. Not exactly a western, not really a thriller, and only in the loosest sense a mystery, too simple for political allegory, too nasty for simple entertainment and definitively not a morality tale, the overall intention of the film is lost on me.

Final Word: 6/10

It's a simple story told in a complicated fashion, heading towards the inevitable Tarantino bloodbath of betrayal and id-fuelled hostility. It could have been entertaining if only it wasn't so painfully labored and self-congratulatory- even the climax itself feels like it takes an age to end. However, if you're a fan of Tarantino's self-aware and quick-pitter-patter vocabulary style, and you're not so sensitive to having your time wasted in era-sized proportions, then there's much to admire. For my money, this is a step in the right direction but still a frustrating waste of a film that could-have-been so much better.

"I LIKE THE WAY YOU DIE, BOY!"

*Django (Django Unchained).

Not as topical as it has been, I've still decided to wade in on this Tarantino debate:

Is Quentin Tarantino's portrayal of black slavery culturally sensitive?

Rather than drag this out I'll try and get straight to the point. Yes and no.

"Explain yourself Mr Carlisle! What sort of a half-arsed answer is that?" Alright, I will.

What I found most uncomfortable about the film wasn't so much what I saw on screen, but what I took into the experience from my understanding of Quentin's character. See, Good 'ol Quentin has often been heard telling people that he enjoys the "aesthetic of violence" which in my mind doesn't really qualify him for the job of 'sensitive exploration of controversial subject matter' (when it's very clear Tarantino doesn't have a nuanced  bone in his body).

How can I know (for certain) that he's not getting the same satisfaction out of his violence-on-blacks as he is his white-on-white violence? For example, while we accept the bloody shootouts as comic-book style entertainment, is their inclusion here in this film inviting a similar voyeuristic enjoyment of a scene where attack dogs literally rip a slave to pieces?

Even that question poses difficult sentiments. Should violence (any violence) be seen differently just because of the colour of a victim's skin? Is drawing such a distinction, in its own way, not racist?

So here's the thing. My issue is not with Tarantino's 'take' on slavery (for his own part he clearly knows that "slavery is bad" and sees everybody equally whatever the shade of their skin). My issue is more to do with his 'take' on violence in general. I genuinely feel that he is unable to distinguish between comic-book sensitivities which glorify 'action' from gritty 'brutality'. At least, if Tarantino can distinguish the difference, then I feel that perhaps he enjoys them both equally- which is very problematic...
 Reservoir Dogs is NOT Kill Bill, and while their content can both be considered violent, one is realistically visceral while the other is highly styalised. To my mind, one is a condemnation of violence while the other is an action-ballet designed to both thrill and entertain. By including both tones within the same film you send out very mixed messages, and when you apply that rather jarring combination to such a sensitive subject as slavery, then you're going to upset people and invite the criticism of 'trivialising history'.



On a final note; 
Quentin, you really don't help your cause when, aside from showing the horrors endured by the black slaves, you start making shit up like Mandingo fighting! As if things weren't bad enough for them already, you have to draw 'popcorn entertainment' from their suffering? That's pretty insensitive... You dick.

DJANGO UNCHAINED, Carlisle's Final Word.

"Gentlemen, you had my curiosity. But now you have my attention."

Calvin Candie. 

Script Logic; 1/2

Pace; 0/2

Acting; 2/2

Aesthetic; 2/2

Originality & Intention; 1/2

Final Score; 6/10

Final Word; 
So, a fair bit has been said about this film already. On the one hand, we have critically acclaimed director Spike Lee condemning the film for its depiction of slavery and its overuse of racially provocative language, while the film's stars, including Samuel L Jackson and Jamie Foxx, defend it as an 'important work of art' (yep, that ol' chestnut). We also have Quentin Tarantino (in typically animated and stuttering fashion) loosing his temper during an interview with the BBC. As you'd imagine, I have an opinion on all this, but I'll wade in on that subject later, probably during my long-overdue article on the works of Quentin Tarantino. For now we should consider the film without the murky ambiguity of its subject and behind-the-scenes agendas. I didn't have high hopes, it has to be said (the bitter disappointment of Inglorious still fresh in my mind), but it wasn't the complete mess that I'd expected it to be. I only decided to watch it for the sake of this blog, and because it's all anybody will be talking about for the next couple of weeks (see how I suffer for you people?). 

On the positive side, the first hour is perfection: the slavery is eluded to tastefully, while the violance is comically over-the-top and punctuated with Tarantino's usual flair for irreverent wit (much kudos for the scene where the hooded racisits discuss costume-related issues). What with all the Spaghetti Western styling present in his previous movies, it would seem that this, more than any other project, was the film Tarantino was tailor-made to direct... Everybody gives cracking performances, with particular praise for DiCaprio and Jackson going spectacularly against type, and the script gives everybody some great lines (even if in reality the term 'mother fucker' wasn't used til much later). The locations, the sets and the costume design are also all top notch. Unfortunately, that's where the good stuff ends.
The second hour, where the cruelties inflicted on the slaves is more apparent (subject of the controversy), is over-long and off-kilter with the comic-book sensibility of the set-up, and this apparent return to realism draws attention to the flaws in the script's logic- without wishing to give anything away, the much-aligned Mandingo plot is unnecessary and makes little to no sense at all. Neither is it historically accurate. The last hour again jarringly differs in tone to what has come before, and any tangible sense of realism is cast aside for a disappointing final act; where the ludicrous gun battles are orchestrated to modern-day rap songs, the director has a cameo affecting the World's worst Australian accent, and the hero's horse can dance.

In a nut shell; first hour great, second hour dull and ethically uneasy, and the third hour is dementedly surreal and at the same time dramatically under-whelming. Somewhere in this mess is a decent 90 minuite homage to the Spegetti Westerns of yester-year, but this is unfortunately caught up in the eccentric self indulgence of an egotistical and rambling director- one who occasionally needs to be told 'no'.