Movie Review: "The Hateful Eight" (Quentin Tarantino, 2015)

COLD WEATHER, COLDER HEARTS by Mo Shaunette

Above: Samuel L. Jackson stars in Mr. Tarantino’s latest.  Photo ©The Weinstein Company

As will surprise absolutely no one, being both a) a film enthusiast, and b) a guy, I’m a fan of Quentin Tarantino.  “Kill Bill” remains one of my favorite movies ever, I’ve seen “Pulp Fiction” more times than I can count, and for me, “Inglorious Basterds” and “Django Unchained” are some of the finest films of the past few years. 

Having now seen Mr. Tarantino’s latest effort, “The Hateful Eight,” I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.  “Hateful” feels like the director is both retreading old ground and striking into new territory.  That’s partly because the film mixes Mr. Tarantino’s signature labyrinthine conversations and sudden violence with a slow-burn, almost avant-garde style of storytelling.

Yet “Hateful” also nods to the neo-western aesthetic of “Django,” the ‘hostile strangers locked in a room together’ set-up of “Reservoir Dogs,” the 'stories as weapons' theme from "Basterds," and the sliding scale of morality of “From Dusk ’Til Dawn” (while also pulling elements from “The Thing,” “The Evil Dead,” and “Persona”).  Yet despite all these disparate ingredients, it’s still a Tarantino Stew, and much like Major Marquis Warren, I can always recognize the taste of a familiar stew.

“The Hateful Eight” (which is set in the late 1800s) takes us to Minnie’s Haberdashery, a general store near Red Rock, WY.  There, a blizzard traps eight strangers in the store for the night: the aforementioned Major Warren (Samuel L. Jackson), a Union army veteran turned bounty hunter; John “The Hangman” Ruth (Kurt Russell), a fellow bounty hunter known for ensuring his prisoners see the gallows; Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a wanted murderer and Ruth’s latest quarry; Chris Mannix (Walton Goggins), a former Confederate raider and the new sheriff of Red Rock; Bob (Demáin Bichir), the Mexican caretaker of Minnie’s; Oswaldo Morbray (Tim Roth), a genial Brit; Joe Gage (Michael Madsen), a quiet cowherd; and General Sanford Smithers (Bruce Dern), a former Confederate soldier.  As the night goes on, tensions run high, ideologies clash, old grudges are brought to light, liars are revealed, and many a bullet is fired before the sun rises again.

What will strike pretty much everyone about the movie is the length of it.  “Hateful” (or at least the 70mm “Roadshow” version I saw) clocks in at over three hours and features both an overture and a fifteen-minute intermission.  You could be forgiven for calling the first half of the film overindulgent, as it mostly concerns characters drifting around Minnie’s, talking to each other, explaining philosophies and back stories.  However, it still manages to be entertaining thanks to the writing, the direction, and the caliber of the actors.  Mr. Tarantino is pushing himself as an artist here, going for a more deliberately-paced story as opposed to his usual higher-energy action romps.  In other words, “Hateful” isn’t so slow that it’s boring; “Hateful” is so slow that it’s art.

Much of the film’s power arises from the strong showing by its cast, and special mention has to be given to two performances in particular.  Walton Goggins is a fascinating watch as Chris Mannix, who struggles to balance his pride in the South, his shame at losing the war, and his willingness to move on from the past and bury the hatchet when surrounded by folks who have no love for rebels, all the while acting the part of the big, dumb country boy.  Jennifer Jason Leigh, meanwhile, runs the gamut of emotions as Daisy Domergue—we see her scorn, her defiance, her fear, her anger, her confidence, her vulnerability, and her humor, as she watches (and takes part in) the madness happening beneath Minnie’s roof.

Which brings me to the most uncomfortable aspect of the film.  Daisy begins the movie with a black eye and suffers countless more indignities and injuries before the credits roll, all of them at the hands of violent men.  Daisy is no angel—she’s surly, racist, and goes out of her way to antagonize everyone around her—but watching “Hateful,” I got the same sense of collar-tugging discomfort that I get when watching “Game of Thrones.”  It’s the feeling that you’re watching the work of a filmmaker who doesn’t condone violence towards women, yet enjoys seeing female characters being beaten a little too much (in spite of said characters’ agency, strength, and personality). Maybe I'm being overly sensitive here—nearly everyone in the haberdashery is an utterly despicable monster (including our purported hero Major Warren) and is punished for it, so there's little reason why Daisy should be made exempt—but her treatment still got to me.

Still, despite that unpleasantness (on a similar note: whatever hang-ups you might have about Mr. Tarantino’s continued use of the N-word, I’d argue that it makes sense in the context of “Hateful,” given that the movie is not only partially about racism, but takes place in a time when people remembered owning blacks as property), I’d still give “Hateful” a recommendation.  It may be a long slog through nigh-endless talking and bloody brutality, but it’s a hell of a ride; a singularly unique entry from one of America’s premier auteurs.  Mixing art house-style pacing with splatter-house violence, all with a gorgeous Western-style score from Ennio Morricone, “The Hateful Eight” is a film that demands to be experienced.  Check it out.