The Hateful EightFilmmaker Quentin Tarantino, director and writer of The Hateful Eight, described his film prior to its release as "taking a bunch of nefarious guys in a room, all telling backstories that may or may not be true...trap those guys together in a room with a blizzard outside, give them guns, and see what happens"; a perfect recipe for an explosion. Tensions run high and burn white hot in the white hell on the curve of the later part of 19th century Wyoming, following the war of "brother against brother", where the wounds remain unhealed and aggression remains unchecked.
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The Hateful Eight is Quentin Tarantino's eighth film proper--it announces itself accordingly in the opening credits, set to the first of many original musical contributions by the legendary Ennio Morricone. Such a bold, self-reflexive inclusion recalls Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini's 8 1/2, another self-aware film that is also knowingly the eighth entry into that filmmaker's oeuvre; and as is par for the course with Tarantino, this is but the first of many homages to the films which inspire and stir the creative cauldron of Tarantino's work. But as in his preceding film--Django Unchained--Tarantino has recalled the days of the Wild West, resurrecting the spirit of the "spaghetti western"--so called, because of a series of inexpensively produced westerns made in Italy in the Sixties and Seventies. These works include those of Sergio Corbucci, who also directed the original Django; although for my money, The Hateful Eight more directly recalls another of Corbucci's works: The Great Silence. Both The Great Silence and The Hateful Eight are set amid the devastating cold and punishing covering of snow of the Rocky Mountains, and both feature characters who enforce the law through exceedingly violent means...as well as those who get around it by a similar tack--Ennio Morricone also scored that film. But The Hateful Eight deals with trust at its core; although not a western, the film reminds me of another movie set in the dense snow and cold--The Thing (1982)--where a band of people discover that they are trapped with a "killer", and remain on high alert, which in turn fuels the characters to make rash decisions. Both films also star Kurt Russell, here in The Hateful Eight as "The Hangman", John Ruth, whose reputation as a bounty hunter is based on his predilection to capture his quarry alive as opposed to dead, so as not do deny the hangman his due and see traditional justice served. Ruth's prisoner is Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh), introduced with a black eye, and her increasingly sharp tongue garnering her more abuse at the hands of her captor. Here, Tarantino begins his machinations to manipulate our expectations of violence and for whom it is appropriate. At a glance, Ruth should be our "John Wayne" styled hero, but he is not above moments of physical reprisal against his captive, whom we remain largely unaware of her crimes; good cowboys don't hit women, do they? Well, that raises the question of "who's good", and furthermore, what's the criteria?
The Hateful Eight clocks in under four hours in length--not including an intermission, depending on your theater--and promotes the virtues of patience in allowing the story to unfold, and through it, our understanding of the sorted characters introduced throughout the tale. Pacing is the steady hand armed with loaded dialogue and secretive clues that put the viewer's mind in a state of perpetual suspicion, punctuated by bouts of extreme violence. These violent interludes occasionally unfold in slow motion, recalling Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch, a western notorious in its day for scenes of protracted aggression and bloodshed, also containing a collection of ne'er-do-wells not unlike the motley crew of The Hateful Eight. Along the road to Minnie's Haberdashery, a fellow also seeks refuge from the storm, a fellow bounty hunter with his own reputation by the name of Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson), who convinces Ruth to allow him passage, rather than freeze to death in the mountain's blizzard. Warren and Ruth met once and it becomes clear that their additional shared interests involved their own commitments to the Union in the Civil War. Conversely, they butt heads with others they cross paths with on their adventure, such as "Sheriff" Chris Mannix (Walton Goggins), who espouses the virtues of his former allegiance to the Confederate army, as well as an actual general of said army, General Sandy Smithers (Bruce Dern), both of whom take Warren's presence as an affront--Warren being an African-American--and speak their discontent loudly and viciously. From the time Ruth, Warren, Daisy, and Mannix arrive at the haberdashery--occupied by Smithers, as well as a few other souls--there is a sense that something is off. First of all, there is no Minnie to be seen, her absence explained by a Mexican named Bob (Demián Bichir) in that she went to visit family over the mountain. The guests of the refuge where the wind whistles in endlessly also include a taciturn cowboy by the name of Joe Gage (Michael Madsen) and the literal hangman called upon to perform his duties in the town of Red Rock, an English gent by the name of Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth). The locale of Minnie's Haberdashery is where much of the film is set, and the furnishings and dressing become as familiar as ornamentation on the stage of a play. In fact, The Hateful Eight shares a good deal in common with a stage play, including "whodunits" and the like as events get out of hand, and suspicions about one or more members of the party being in league with Daisy to spring her release foment in the minds of a few of the characters, steeping their paranoia with snowbound claustrophobia. With scenes of violence and betrayal, intrigue and deception, set upon a stage in period attire, there is also, yes, a very "Shakespearean" style to The Hateful Eight; there is certainly at least one Claudius among this crowd, primed with "cursed hebonon". At one point, Mobray and Ruth engage in a brief discourse about the purpose of a hangman, and his relevance in the definition of justice, and how "frontier justice" is enforced not by a dispassionate hangman, but by the hot-blooded revenge seekers wronged by the criminal, so can that really be called "justice"? A scene involving Warren and Smithers speaks to this idea, as parties are provoked into action--but one of many moments--and the law becomes as snow blowing in the wind...fleeting and quick to dissipate in the fires of rage. This moment reminds me of a scene from another western, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, when a cowboy is provoked to reach for his gun, thus proffering justification for the quicker provocateur to draw and kill the man he wanted legal justification for murdering--a theme explored as well in The Great Silence. It is a moment which in all cases speaks to man's inherent hateful nature, where the wounds of past iniquities still resonate, and forgiveness is a flower which cannot grow in the soil of a man's heart entrenched in snow.
Recommended for: Fans of a gory and vicious western thriller, a drama which digs into people's inner demons about the superficiality of trust in the face of primal hatred in the depths of men's souls. It is a period piece influenced by oft-neglected gems before it, made fresh and visceral by Tarantino, a hallmark of his style.
The Hateful Eight clocks in under four hours in length--not including an intermission, depending on your theater--and promotes the virtues of patience in allowing the story to unfold, and through it, our understanding of the sorted characters introduced throughout the tale. Pacing is the steady hand armed with loaded dialogue and secretive clues that put the viewer's mind in a state of perpetual suspicion, punctuated by bouts of extreme violence. These violent interludes occasionally unfold in slow motion, recalling Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch, a western notorious in its day for scenes of protracted aggression and bloodshed, also containing a collection of ne'er-do-wells not unlike the motley crew of The Hateful Eight. Along the road to Minnie's Haberdashery, a fellow also seeks refuge from the storm, a fellow bounty hunter with his own reputation by the name of Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson), who convinces Ruth to allow him passage, rather than freeze to death in the mountain's blizzard. Warren and Ruth met once and it becomes clear that their additional shared interests involved their own commitments to the Union in the Civil War. Conversely, they butt heads with others they cross paths with on their adventure, such as "Sheriff" Chris Mannix (Walton Goggins), who espouses the virtues of his former allegiance to the Confederate army, as well as an actual general of said army, General Sandy Smithers (Bruce Dern), both of whom take Warren's presence as an affront--Warren being an African-American--and speak their discontent loudly and viciously. From the time Ruth, Warren, Daisy, and Mannix arrive at the haberdashery--occupied by Smithers, as well as a few other souls--there is a sense that something is off. First of all, there is no Minnie to be seen, her absence explained by a Mexican named Bob (Demián Bichir) in that she went to visit family over the mountain. The guests of the refuge where the wind whistles in endlessly also include a taciturn cowboy by the name of Joe Gage (Michael Madsen) and the literal hangman called upon to perform his duties in the town of Red Rock, an English gent by the name of Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth). The locale of Minnie's Haberdashery is where much of the film is set, and the furnishings and dressing become as familiar as ornamentation on the stage of a play. In fact, The Hateful Eight shares a good deal in common with a stage play, including "whodunits" and the like as events get out of hand, and suspicions about one or more members of the party being in league with Daisy to spring her release foment in the minds of a few of the characters, steeping their paranoia with snowbound claustrophobia. With scenes of violence and betrayal, intrigue and deception, set upon a stage in period attire, there is also, yes, a very "Shakespearean" style to The Hateful Eight; there is certainly at least one Claudius among this crowd, primed with "cursed hebonon". At one point, Mobray and Ruth engage in a brief discourse about the purpose of a hangman, and his relevance in the definition of justice, and how "frontier justice" is enforced not by a dispassionate hangman, but by the hot-blooded revenge seekers wronged by the criminal, so can that really be called "justice"? A scene involving Warren and Smithers speaks to this idea, as parties are provoked into action--but one of many moments--and the law becomes as snow blowing in the wind...fleeting and quick to dissipate in the fires of rage. This moment reminds me of a scene from another western, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, when a cowboy is provoked to reach for his gun, thus proffering justification for the quicker provocateur to draw and kill the man he wanted legal justification for murdering--a theme explored as well in The Great Silence. It is a moment which in all cases speaks to man's inherent hateful nature, where the wounds of past iniquities still resonate, and forgiveness is a flower which cannot grow in the soil of a man's heart entrenched in snow.
Recommended for: Fans of a gory and vicious western thriller, a drama which digs into people's inner demons about the superficiality of trust in the face of primal hatred in the depths of men's souls. It is a period piece influenced by oft-neglected gems before it, made fresh and visceral by Tarantino, a hallmark of his style.