GoodTrash Media

To say I’m still wrestling with Quentin Tarantino’s 8th film, The Hateful Eight, doesn’t even begin to cover it. After two days of mulling it over I don’t feel like I’ve come any closer to sussing out what exactly the hell happened in the isolated way station that was Minnie’s Haberdashery. But I felt compelled to share some of my thoughts in the lead up to our full review and discussion on Back to the Movies later this week. So let’s get down to brass tacks.

First thing’s first, if you missed seeing this in Ultra Panavision 70 you have my condolences because it was a truly remarkable experience that hasn’t been available to the average movie goer in 60 years. I don’t have a dog in the digital vs. celluloid fight, shoot your movie how you want to, but there is something special about watching actual projected film that can’t be quantified. Especially if the film in question was made by Quentin Tarantino. Divisive though he is, the man knows how to shoot a picture.

The picture in question of course being The Hateful Eight, a three hour long revisionist western chamber piece that’s equal parts The Thing and And Then There Were None. Despite a run-time that feels occasionally bloated, all involved parties manage to build and sustain the tension the above ingredients imply without the whole endeavor crashing in on itself. It’s truly a testament to the caliber of the talent involved. The score, the acting, the editing. You name it. Every piece just comes together.

Here’s the thing though. Expertly made doesn’t mean interesting. I’m normally the first to defend Tarantino’s films as having more going than they let on, but I’m not so sure that’s the case here. It’s all in the title, hateful is this movie’s mission statement. Two days later and I still can’t decide if this racial epithet-hurling, blood-bath of a movie is brilliant or completely vapid schlock. Maybe that’s the point, but it’s driving me up a wall.

Check out Back to the Movies later this week for my further thoughts.