3 stars out of 5
Late in the film, a puffy-looking Quentin Tarantino shows up, speaking with an Australian accent. And that perfectly encapsulates this movie: Quirky, entertaining, random, and totally bloated.
I’m looking back at my 3.5-star review of Inglourious Basterds, and much of the same applies here: form over content, style over substance, another genre exercise, very cool set pieces lacking a coherent script to connect them. And of course it’s another tale of revenge, set in the slavery-era South (boo, hiss!) instead of Nazi Germany (boo, hiss!). But I remember having a better time watching Inglourious Basterds. Maybe that’s because Brad Pitt was such a compelling lead. Here, Jamie Foxx is decent but nothing special, and hair-and-makeup unfortunately decided to make him look exactly like André 3000.
Christophe Waltz gets to have a lot of fun throughout, even if he doesn’t rise to the level of his Basterds performance. Leonardo “Old Faithful” DiCaprio adds a lot of sparks as a semi-foppish plantation owner and it’s great to see him sparring with Samuel L. Jackson, but I wish they’d shown up much earlier in the movie. And just when you think it’s going to end strongly, the film slows down yet again, before revving up once more for the admittedly enjoyable finish.
Tarantino is clearly having a blast making his western. There’s a definite level of campiness here, from the opening titles to a scene that feels like a Blazing Saddles outtake. That bit is funny but stops the movie cold in its tracks. The political commentary here doesn’t seem to go much beyond Blazing Saddles either. There are lots of fun cameos, many that I didn’t realize till the closing credits. Some things Tarantino does exactly right, such as shooting some gorgeous widescreen western landscapes and including a new Ennio Morricone composition in yet another diverse, entertaining soundtrack. Most importantly, Tarantino gets to try his hand at a Sam Peckinpah tribute and he relishes it, bang bang bang and blood everywhere. We expect that going into a Tarantino film—ultra-violence mixed with laughs is his trademark—and he does not disappoint. But at a running time of 2 hours, 45 minutes, I think he keeps us waiting way too long for the payoff, and I just felt drained.
What’s next for Tarantino? The sci-fli flick? The monster movie? Bollywood send-up? Whatever, I’ll go see it, and I’ll like it. But probably just a little bit less than the one before.
Jack Silbert, curator