Alright Ramblers, Let's Get Rambling

THE HATEFUL EIGHT REVIEW

By James Kislingbury

I've put a lot of calories into telling people why most of Tarantino's movies are garbage. Kill Bill 1 is fun, but too long and too closely resembles a feature length music video. Kill Bill 2 is too long and no fun. Death Proof watches like a practical joke. And Inglorious Misspellings* watches like the deleted scenes of a film that never got made. While his first three films are classics for varying reasons, after ten years of watching an artist wander in the wilderness, I realized that I couldn't follow him any more. I was going to go watch movies that had stories.

Then Django Unchained came out. It felt like a maturing of Tarantino's fixations. While all of the quirks that he usually overindulged were still there, he managed to wrap them all up in a film that was full of characters and had a compelling story. It had a drive and a direction that, after the box office failure of Jackie Brown, he seemed to resent. Yet, as much as I loved that movie, I also realized that this was something he could easily backslide from. He followed up Jackie Brown with Kill Bill. The same might be true of moving from Django Unchained to The Hateful Eight.

It is with no little energy (and no little relief) that enjoyed The Hateful Eight quite a bit.

Well, maybe “enjoyed” is the wrong word. I enjoyed Mistress America. The Hateful Eight, I endured. It's a movie that almost demands that you loath it. It indulges in all of QT's worst fixation (short of women's feet), yet, in the end, it's a film that comes together as a satisfactory whole. It is not a movie without faults and it is certainly one that I wouldn't begrudge anybody for loathing, but, damnit, I liked it. I really, really liked it.

That makes me a bad person, doesn't it?

First and foremost, as with all of Tarantino's post-Jackie Brown movies, it is too damn long**. Like Bruce Dern's old timer, it's even satisfied to go nowhere. The first 90 minutes of the film are jam packed with long stretches of nothing. Here's a scene of expostion. Here's a long take of people hammering spikes into the ice that will not come back at all. Here's another scene of folks jawing on about a whole lot of nothing (that will also not come back in any way, shape, or form). Beneath the grizzled visage of The Hateful Eight, is the sharp face of a Agatha Christie chamber piece, yet it insists on indulging in its

The worst example of this is how we have to watch a board get nailed into a door frame at least five different times. We watch it. Every. Single. Time. We get it, QT, it's kind of funny. The first time. Now you're just fucking with us. Go back to filming women's feet if this is how you're going to be. This movies doesn't so much need an editor as it needs a pathfinder. A large, ugly man with a machete. Possibly Machete. QT can probably get him for a song.

The other problem with the structure of the film is that its story is bound together with the same gossamer threads as a good Three's Company episode. It's premise makes little sense and as the film carries on, its plot thickens, and its stakes get raised, it make less and less sense. The story requires that Daisy (Jennifer Jason Leigh), the bounty which the entire film revolves around stay alive, but. . . Why? The Hangman (Kurt Russell) isn't a particularly upright man. So why is she still alive? This is stretched even thinner when we realized that almost everyone has a vested interest in her dropping dead. Yet, she doesn't.

Why? Because the sitcom requires it. This conceit is a cause for monologues and ultraviolence. The worst of the film seems to act upon this urge. Don't think about the logic, don't pay attention to the man behind the curtain, look over here. We've got the guy from Justified doing a caricature of Barney Fife and that's pretty cool, right? RIGHT?

Unlike his worst films, though, it never tips over. It knows where it's going, even if it takes the long way around. Through some switchbacks. And then backtracks. Then takes a nap. Then decides it would just be easier to go the easy way after all. No, not that easy way. Come here, I'll show you. It's not like you didn't clear your schedule for the next three hours.

I mean, how many goddamn times do I have to see somebody put a hammer to a nail? They don't even hit their thumb! Not once!

The Hateful Eight is also loathsome in that it makes me find common cause with Spike Lee. I don't feel like that's ever a good sign. This time, though, I get it, Spike. You were right. Tarantino loves using the word “nigger***” too goddamn much. Motherfucker is in love with it. Straight up. The dude gets off on it. Dude wants to fill a hot tub full of it and lather himself up good with it. He loves making other people say it, too. He loves making other people say it to his friends. He has to. Otherwise, he's an idiot and he isn't that. Of all of the things our dear director might be, he's not dumb. That might make it work.

Me twenty minutes into the film.

Which makes me wonder: Does he actually know what this word means? Not that I get it. I'm a dumb white dude. But, man, I feel like Spike Lee has got to have a handle on this, right? Spoil sport, though he may be? Does Tarantino think he's making a point? Or does he want to shock us with it? You know, prove a point, man. Frankly, I could give a fuck. It's exhausting. What is more is that it is boring. It's your dumb punk rock friend in high school pushing another safety pin into his ear. Except that he's a grown man. And the safety pin is a racial slur. Real cool, Darryl. Now shut the fuck up and see if your brother can buy us beer.

The first n-bomb drops about ten minutes into the film and never lets up. Ultraviolence, “bitch,” and some really good sexual assault occurs between the opening and closing credits, yet the n-word is there. Always. Ever present. Every scene. Oh, and the next one? It's got even more of them. And it's needless. It's there to prove a point that we already understand. It's there as a replacement for actual dialogue about America or about the cultural landscape in the post-Civil War climate. It's just the n-word. Again and again and again. It's not clever or cute or funny. It's a racial slur. It should mean something. Otherwise, it's an aesthetic adornment that comes at the cost of actual meaning. That's probably not something an artist should aim for. I don't know that being the Goodfellas of the n-word is a goal an artist should aspire to, either.

A friend of mine went to the reading of The Hateful Eight and when the first use of nigger occurred, Tarantino interrupted and pointed out that this was the first time it would occur in the story and that there would be 200-something more. The audience laughed at this. My friend looked around at this parliament of honkeys, their mouths agape in laughter, and had visions of the climax of Inglorious Bastards. At that exact moment, they'd be right to blow us up, he said.

It never lands on the ear the way it's supposed to and my annoyance of it only abated because, I think, I was numb to hearing it after the first two hours. Then again, maybe that's the point. Actually, like the drawn out nothingness that makes up the first half of the film, I'm fairly certain it's supposed to be alienating. Then again, maybe like a lot of QT's more clever points, maybe I don't give a fuck.

Flaws aside, The Hateful Eight's strengths do more than outweigh or outshine its manifold problems. The films problems are things the rest of the film treads upon and moves past. It says something about the quality of the rest of the film that I can ignore something as distastful as the needless use of racial epithets. Then again, maybe the joke is on me.

Somebody give this motherfucker a sequel.
No, not you, Eli. Never you.

I guess this is also helped along by the fact that Samuel L. Jackson is in prime form in this movie. His role as the bounty hunting Major Marquis Warren almost feels like an apology for making him the villain in Django Unchained. Warren is, to borrow a phrase, a bad motherfucker. He's cool. He's collected. He's got the best outfit. And, unlike everyone else in the movie, he actually seems interested in doing his job (which, when another character remembers that they also have a job to perform marks the point where I became fully invested in the film).

The best monologue in the film also belongs to Jackson. I won't spoilt the surprise, yet, as horrific as the story is, I can't help but laugh at it. I'm still laughing. I'm laughing because Samuel L. Jackson is laughing and who am I to disagree with him? He's a really good actor, as it turns out.

As it is with the best of Tarantino's movies, The Hateful Eight is a film about characters. It is about people in a premise, not a premise that requires people. The conceit of the film, thin though it may be, never overcomes the basic human drama that exists between these characters that Tarantino and his actors have crafted. As the film goes on, the story becomes less about being a mystery or a western or an exploitation movie and more about the dynamics of these characters. Their loyalties shift. Their needs shift. Their desires conflict. And then a lot of people die poorly. It's a hell of a lot of fun. Or, well, you know, "fun."

Tarantino's best movies, Jackie Brown, Pulp Fiction, Django Unchained, aren't about showing off (necessarily), but about people, characters, and place. His worst films and his most absurd overreaches have always been about being as loud and flamboyant as the Weinstein brothers will allow him to be. Some artists need a tether. I don't know that Tarantino has ever had one. Maybe that's the appeal. Who else is going to make a movie like this? Who else can piss off this many people and make this much money with a movie? That's fun. That's exciting. I just kind of wish I didn't have to imagine QT writing his screenplays with one hand because he was jerking off with the other.

Oh, also, Ennio Morricone does the score for this film. ENNIO FUCKING MORRICONE! He finally got him! Tarantino finally completed the loop!

There's a better, leaner, less needlessly dispicable film beneath the surface of The Hateful Eight. That movie would not be a Tarantino movie, though. For better or for worse, this is what we have. As obnoxious as the man may be either on screen or off (or in this case, in a voice over), he's making the films that he wants to make. Like George Lucas, plenty have tried making movies like him, but none have succeeded. It's nice for me to be on the side of the argument that actually had fun with the damn thing.

The Hateful Eight is a better movie than it has any right to be. It's a better movie than most movies have a right to be.

It's a fine movie to round out 2015's Oscar season-- That is if you really want to spend nine hours watching cowboys be the absolute worst to each other. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then The Hateful Eight is the movie for you.

James Kislingbury is a writer. Ostensibly. He also podcasts about movies. You can support his podcast here. But you won't. Also, buy his dad's book about old time saloons from here. Writing on his own blog means he can have whatever byline he wants. 

*There is no way I am looking up how to spell that film's title “correctly.”

**Yes, Death Proof included. Also, did you know that he went back and added scenes to the movie? If I recall correctly it was so it could be a contender at Canne. Ugh. As if QT couldn't be any more pretentious, the additional scenes were also black and white. Looking back on it, I think this was the exact moment that I realized that this director was just a man and, also, fuck this man.

***Sorry, but we're all adults and I'm not going to talk about it without saying it. I don't have a problem with hearing it and I don't have a problem with it in movies. Again, I'm a big boy. I take issue with how this film handles it. Me. The middle-class white dude in his 20's. You know. The arbiter of what is offensive or not. I mean, I did go to college. . .

My Review of Django Unchained

My Review of Django Unchained
by James Kislingbury

Django Unchained is a film directed by Quentin Tarantino. Tarantino, famous for directing such films as My Best Friend's Birthday and Four Rooms, this time has directed a western. The film stars Jamie Foxx and Christoph Waltz as characters in a Quentin Tarantino movie.

Violence is used to further the plot, as well as to illicit an emotional reaction. These reactions very according to the context they are presented in.

After the beginning, but before the end there are flashbacks. Sometimes music plays in these flashbacks from other movies or eras.This is called "non-diegetic music."

In one scene Quentin Tarantino cannot act. Then the movie is twenty minutes too long and it ends with credits.

If you want to see a movie directed by Quentin Tarantino, then Django Unchained is the most directed by Quentin Tarantino movie of the year!

I give it five toes out of five.

Thank for your time.

Listen, Because This Concerns You

Everything Is A Remix: KILL BILL from robgwilson.com on Vimeo.

I don't really care for the Kill Bill films, but this video is pretty fucking awesome. I guess, if pressed, it could be used as either and argument for or an argument against Quentin Tarantino being a skilled film maker. At the very least, though, it's probably proof that he's a skilled film nerd.

Cinecult: In Which I Completely Recycle a Forum Post

(Originally posted at Social Entropy ++ when the subject of Quentin Tarantino was brought up. We now read the post, already in progress.)

I think Resevoir Dogs isn't a great movie, but it shows a kind of enthusiasm and ingenuity which is rare in a first feature film. It shows a lot of potential and even though I think it get a bit talky, it's still really clever.

Pulp Fiction is indesputably great. Even though it is inspired by other films-- as all of his films are-- there aren't any other movies that look and act and move exactly like that one. Plenty have tried, but none are as good as this movie. While I don't think it holds together all that well, it's still really amazing and it's a movie everyone should see.

Jackie Brown is his best film. Period. It mixes all of the clever references and intertexuality that make his movies unique without it only being about how clever he is and about how many references he can cram into one scene (as I'll talk about later). It's a movie with the least Tarantino affectations and I think it's a movie with the most emotion and character development of any of his films. This might sound snide, but it's his most mature film. It's just a shame that nobody saw it.

Kill Bill 1 and 2 are utter bilge. They're silly and I don't think they're as innocent or fun as the movies they're based off of. The Street Fighter is a flawed movie, but it's also forty years old and filmed on a shoe string budget, Kill Bill is basically the same movie but with a much higher budget. They aren't movies without they're moments, but they lack discipline. They go on forever and are really about nothing. All in all, I come back to one thing Mark Kermode said, which is that 2001 goes from the dawn of man to the birth of a new species in two and a half hours, why does Tarantino need four hours for Kill Bill? And as far as that goes, Charles Bronson only needed 90 minutes at a time.

Death Proof is pointless. Writing about that is like writing about a jizz rag. It's him wanking off for 90 minutes, which is fine, but then he went back and added another 30 minutes so it could get put into the film festival circuit. Now that's the only version you can find. It's stupid. All of the movies he's drawing off of didn't last more than 90 minutes a piece and he feels the need to pad out a movie which is almost entirely made out of padding. Great. Apparently a bunch of boring women talk about nothing for ten minutes was such a good idea that it needed to be made longer. Fuck off.

And now, an aside--

I saw Inglourious because it was tacked onto a friend's birthday party. Since I wasn't about to just bone out at midnight for the sake of a movie, I decided I'd give the movie a chance. I have my standards and all, and I really wasn't looking forward to it at all, but, you know, friendship. Now there's the rub.

Anyways, like an idiot I got into an argument as to why I thought Jackie Brown is his best movie and why it was the last worthwhile film he made. I don't know what I was thinking because I got into this debate with a guy I know I don't like and haven't liked for years. As I recall this was back when our relationship was waning between cordial and then, strangely and suddenly dismissive, so I might have tricked myself into thinking that there was a chance this would end up as a cordial conversation.

It didn't.

We talk about this on the way to the movie theater and, at some point, a friend of a friend shows up and I instantly realize I don't want to talk to this guy. It isn't that this second person was a bad dude or smelled or anything, but I more or less "stole" his girlfriend away from him a year or two back and knew that we would have very little to say to each other. Whenever the ex-boyfriend thought his friend scored a coup, he'd chime in with, "Yeah, totally!" demonstrating his mastery of the forensic arts.

So, I end up being stuck between my ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend and this other guy who I cannot get along with no matter how many conversations we engage in. Overall the conversation ran like a month in trench warfare. All we did was say things back and forth with no real progress being made on either side. With that said, I stopped listening for an entirely different reason than he did.

I think I gave up because I took umbrage with a few things he said. First off, I was told that I didn't "get" Death Proof. Yes, people actually say that kind of a thing and mean it and this was the level of discourse I was involved in. Then, when I made the point about Kill Bill 1 & 2 being longer and having less substance than 2001: A Space Odyssey-- a point I think we all understand is a somewhat tongue in cheek statement-- he says to me without a tinge of irony "Yeah, but they're completely different kinds of films." As though this needed to be put out there.

The last bit, which was a nice cheery on top, was when he turned to me and said, "You aren't going to be talking to me and saying things to me for the entire movie, are you?"

Well, I was thinking about it, but now that you say it. . .

It wasn't an incredibly fun evening, mostly because I didn't like the movie and I realized I was the only person in the entire theater who felt this way. The whole thing was bizarre and made me feel silly afterwards, because it was a trap I should have been able to see coming and twist out of it, but no, I had to be right.

Now, back to our main feature--

Inglourious is just despicable. It's too long, it's annoying, and it's a morally horrific movie. It basks in the destruction of other people without a single thought or care. I guess there's lots of action movies like that, but at least Charles Bronson never killed someone because they live in the ghetto, where as Inglourious believes that if you're German, you're inherently a war criminal. It's a movie made with the morality of an angry 14 year old and it's about as disciplined as a movie made by an angry 14 year old. It's all over the place and while it does have one or two moments, they're hidden in between these long ass scenes about how clever Tarantino dialogue is, characters we don't give a fuck about, and Eli Roth.

I respect the fact that he doesn't want to do movie after movie that's like Jackie Brown, but at the same time, I wonder why he's doing movie after movie that's like Kill Bill.

Overall my feelings about Tarantino come out of a love of his previous works and an appreciation for his talent. That's what makes it so frustrating when I see him make bad movies. He's better than this, but, like so many artists before him, he's been given a blank check and no one tells him what's a good idea or a bad idea and he's been left to go insane with his own ideas. That's no good. That's not good at all.