Three hours of Quentin Tarantino. That might be all you need to know about this one. Whether that’s a recommendation or a warning is up to you. There’s nothing here that’s going to change your mind about him either way. It’s the same talk-fest that eventually becomes a blood-bath that he’s carved out as his style since the beginning.
Okay, it’s a big whomping 70mm western. It’s gotta be Tarantino’s How the West Was Won, right? He’s got to go hog wild with at least one Civil War battle scene or roaring cattle stampede, you think? At the very least it must be a panorama of open land, railroads and towns, maybe?
Nope. Tarantino’s not having any of that. He bows to none of the classic Western epics here. Instead, Tarantino gets a bunch of big deal Ben Hur lenses and ultra-wide film stock, takes a cast and crew out to Colorado blizzard season and makes… his smallest movie since Reservoir Dogs. As with his first film, the meat of the story of The Hateful Eight takes place in one day in a single setting, deals with the scenario of several dangerous people trapped with each other and makes its pivotal revelations through flashbacks (for all of the endless talking that his characters do, Tarantino is not one for exposition in dialogue; he needs to flash back and SHOW you what happened, probably so you’ll believe it; almost every character here is a proven liar).
For that, this is likably eccentric, though all of that 70mm hoo-ha isn’t for nothing. While almost everyone on screen chit-chats their brains out, filmmaker Tarantino keeps busy making use of every inch of the Panavision frame. Outdoors, he takes in the overwhelming white vistas of winter plains where God is happy to freeze you to death and knock you around with brutal winds. Indoors (where Tarantino spends most of his time here), he draws battle lines, keeps men who don’t trust each other as far apart they can manage and watches everyone watch everyone else. Either way, he’s surveying dangerous territory with eyes wide open.
It’s a beautifully made film with a real ugly heart—and it’s a blast to watch. Actors tend to love playing villains and that’s all Tarantino has to offer here. Any minor character who seems like they might not be a complete asshole has about two minutes to live. Meanwhile, when a character from the main ensemble almost wins us over, Tarantino pours us a straight shot of their sadism or racism and makes us drink it. The great screen presences of Samuel L. Jackson and Kurt Russell, two actors born to play anti-heroes, do a lot of heavy lifting in carrying us through. It’s also great to see Jennifer Jason Leigh get a meaty Tarantino role, as a murderer being hauled in by bounty hunter Russell, in her long and offbeat career. Managing to stand out even among these powerhouses though is Walton Goggins as a mouthy former Confederacy man and all-around bad egg who may or may not be the new sheriff in the distant town where Leigh is off to the gallows. With a mouthful of words from Tarantino, Goggins talks a good game about his new straight job, but can’t prove it and none of the other characters who know him buy it.
A curious thought about this film: All of the different forms of storytelling are embraced here. Let’s count ’em:
1) Movies. Obviously.
2) Literature. See the novel-like chapter divisions.
3) Song. Check out the unbroken shot where Jennifer Jason Leigh picks up a guitar (Tarantino, not afraid to take his sweet time, has her tune it on-camera) and sings a bleak folk ballad, “Jim Jones at Botany Bay”, which tells a complete story, in its entirety.
4) Word of mouth. These people are constantly passing down stories from the war. Also, some of them are so creative with their lies that they all but turn it into an art form.
5) The stage. I say that only because this story, with its actor showcase roles and its one dominant set full of important details, could be rewritten with little trouble as a play. In fact, I’m calling it right now. The Hateful Eight: The Musical on Broadway sometime around 2035. If it happened for John Waters and Woody Allen, it’s waiting to happen for Tarantino, too. In the show, a grizzled fiftysomething Justin Timberlake wows the critics as John “Hangman” Ruth dragging by chain a fortysomething Emma Watson, as Daisy Domergue, to be hung for murder, but they run into major trouble along the way. Tickets sold out.