Movie Review: The Hateful Eight (Special Roadshow Engagement)

3.5 stars out of 5

If you’re going to shoot in Ultra Panavision 70 — the first movie in nearly 50 years to do so — maybe, just maybe, don’t set the great majority of the 3 hour, 7 minute film in ONE ROOM? But hey, I’m not the filmmaker here. Quentin Tarantino is. And for most of The Hateful Eight, I thought this was his best offering in quite a long time — maybe since Pulp Fiction. But then, unfortunately, it started to self-destruct, in the most clichéd Tarantino ways imaginable. Oh well, it’s hard to be consistent for 187 minutes.

Now, that’s 20 minutes more than you’ll see, unless you catch Hateful Eight in its limited 70mm run. The “roadshow” version I saw included a musical overture, an intermission, and a souvenir program—a presentation style that was apparently popular in the 1950s and ’60s. I’ve always appreciated Tarantino’s giddy enthusiasm for cinema, and the roadshow definitely made for a fun, memorable experience. Worth the extra five bucks? Sure, why not, it was Christmas.

Tarantino is clearly having a blast from the get-go. He’s using old-time fonts for the credits, and has an original score by his old fave, Ennio Freakin’ Morricone. And there’s snow and Wyoming and a stagecoach and everything’s gorgeous in glorious 70mm with a 2.76:1 aspect ratio, nerds. Samuel L. Jackson and Kurt Russell are trading sharp, funny dialogue, and my old longtime No. 1 movie crush Jennifer Jason Leigh has a black eye and is crude as hell. (She’s a murderer being transported to justice by bounty hunter Russell. Jackson, also a bounty hunter, is hitching a ride in a blizzard.)

The weather forces our friends to seek shelter. No! It’s 70mm, stay outside on the snow-swept plains!! Still, even in one room, Tarantino keeps things highly entertaining. A lot of this has to do with more great casting of the dudes hanging out at “Minnie’s” place. We’ve got Vic Vega himself, Michael Madsen, with a suspicious twinkle in his eye. Tim Roth’s character gets the ridiculously hilarious name “Oswaldo Mobray.” Bruce Dern is a grumpy Confederate general. And I was very happy to see my man from The Bridge, Demian Bichir. (Walter Goggins as the maybe-sheriff can’t quite keep up with the other actors.)

Also on the positive side of the ledger: Tarantino has a more focused plot this time, and it’s not just another revenge tale. Instead, it begins to feel like a play (which is kind of dumb when you’re in Ultra Panavision 70, oh, did I mention that before), an old-fashioned whodunnit with the suspects gathered in the parlor.

One thing was kind of bugging me, which at first I overlooked because I was enjoying the film so much. Remember how some people said Django Unchained was racist? For me, the content of that not-great film fit its era and characters. But, lo and behold, the Hateful gang is also awfully racist. And misogynistic and generally abusive. “But it’s the era” can only buy you so much slack; I was getting uncomfortable. Come on, Quentin, you’re better than this. Or, maybe he’s really not.

And then the film fell apart. It’s divided into chapters, and the last chapter is crummy. The plot unravels out of control, and we get our requisite Tarantino bloodbath, except it by now it feels like a parody. (Moments of extreme violence earlier in the film were cleverly handled.) And the title might’ve given you a clue, but there’s really no one to fully root for here. Which, after 187 minutes, is kind of a drag. For me, this quickly went from The Hateful Great to The Hateful Eh.