The Hateful Eight (Quentin Tarantino, 2015)

[BrianInAtlanta]

Totally agree. I've given up hope of Tarantino maturing as a filmmaker. Technically, no doubt. He can be a clever writer, but all of his self-penned films have all been film-fan love-ins. He 'borrows' so much that I now just prefer to just watch the original.

There's a scene in the second half where someone is walking through the snow while a male voice sings a ballad and I thought, "what, you could afford 70mm but not the rights to a Leonard Cohen song?"

[Peter-H]

Damn I think this was his most violent and gory movie yet. By the end there's blood and gore everywhere. There's multiple instances of peoples heads exploding from gunfire. There's also puking blood, people puking blood in each others faces, peoples body parts getting blown off, and when people get shot they're like water balloons of blood and gore.

Spoiler

Overall it was good, but the plot structure was strange. I expected that the movie would be lots of tension leading up to an explosive climax. It wasn't like that. They basically had the bad guys beat a little over half way through the movie. The only thing that keeps to tension going is that while the bad guys are beat, one of them will make an attempt to reach for a hidden gun, or try to talk their way out of the situation (or something) and then get thwarted. So yeah the plot structure was odd. There's no tension because the "good guys" (such that they are) have basically won, they have the definite upper hand, and it's just getting drawn out for a long period of time.

Also it didn't seem to have as much funny and witty dialogue as his other movies. The dialogue was good, but there weren't any stand out quotable lines.

Also the narrator's voice seemed totally out of place.

[hanshotfirst1138]

The guy sitting behind me at the cinema laughed hysterically at every act of violence. Apparently castration by bullets and people's heads being blown of was a source of intense amusement to him. Disturbed the hell out of me.

[big ticket]

Also the narrator's voice seemed totally out of place.

I found the voice-over distracting in general, but I suppose Tarantino had to figure out a way to get himself "on screen" in one way or another.

[Manny Karp]

The guy sitting behind me at the cinema laughed hysterically at every act of violence. Apparently castration by bullets and people's heads being blown of was a source of intense amusement to him. Disturbed the hell out of me.

I don't know, but Tarantino himself seems pretty amused by such things. Offhand, I'd say his films use violence in a humorous way as much or more than for any serious reasons. Of course his violence is often both humorous and serious, which is a great thing.

[RossyG]

And laughing at latex and red paint isn't the same as laughing at real violence.

[mfunk9786]

No one in this thread has an avatar.

[Peter-H]

Does anyone agree with what I said here though? It was my biggest problem with the movie.

Spoiler

The plot structure was strange. I expected that the movie would be lots of tension leading up to an explosive climax. It wasn't like that. They basically had the bad guys beat a little over half way through the movie. The only thing that keeps to tension going is that while the bad guys are beat, one of them will make an attempt to reach for a hidden gun, or try to talk their way out of the situation (or something) and then get thwarted. So yeah the plot structure was odd. There's no tension because the "good guys" (such that they are) have basically won, they have the definite upper hand, and it's just getting drawn out for a long period of time.

[who is bobby dylan]

I don't agree with, but will reply to what you said earlier.

Spoiler

I think the initial tension of the opening half is built upon not knowing who the characters are and not knowing whether the details they offer about themselves are true and how the inevitable violence will erupt. There is also an element of racial tension for Jackson's character as he's the only black person in the tavern. I think this tension holds up through the first shoot out and the flashback. The tension generated by the mystery aspect is understandably lost after that, but then the tension generated by Jackon's race gets ratcheted up as that's used as a wedge by the surviving gang members in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Everything we know about Mannix and Warren makes them unlikely allies and the gang members try to exploit the greatest weakness of their sudden alliance. They make a compelling case and based on what we know about Mannix, I was worried for the 2nd half that he would just turn and shoot Warren, then get shot himself by one of the gang members. If you just assume Mannix = good guy and that he and Warren are buds, that tension isn't there, but it was there for me and the Pyrrhic victory of their partnership became the heart and soul of the film.

[feihong]

I'm afraid I don't agree at all with Peter-H's assessment. This isn't a film built around the concept of good guys and bad guys to begin with. The plot structure is based around the unravelling of deceptions––each character's appearance in the film belies a set of secrets they gradually reveal as the film goes on. The secrets are still unravelling in the second half of the film, and I found that process very tense and involving, rather than dull or empty.

The best secrets, or surprises, in fact are saved for the end, to my mind. Both revelations hinge upon the demonstration of surprising intelligence by characters we previously thought of as exceptionally dumb.

Spoiler

But the idea that Daisy Domergue has, in fact, known the identity of everyone in the inn for the entire time makes her seem far more resourceful that we have previously seen. It makes her threat of a larger gang waiting in town an idea that hangs in the air, simultaneously fanciful and threatening in its suggestibility. But the demonstration that Chris Mannix is actually a clever thinker, with genuine appreciation for subtlety––as evidenced by how he works out the delicate thread of false logic in Daisy's attempt to get him to switch sides––is the most unexpected and interesting turn in the film. There is a faint way in which, if Mannix is indeed the sheriff of Red Rock as he so claims, that Major Warren's own deceptions are validated in the pursuit of law––for the erstwhile sheriff has realized that Warren, though he may be himself an outlaw or at least a sort of a social renegade in this post-civil-war frontierscape, is actually his ally in the pursuit of justice.

[DarkImbecile]

Inglourious Basterds has many intrinsically meaningful points to make on political and personal violence.

I'd argue -- at least evident with the progression of his career -- that these points were included unintentionally. (Though whether or not this matters is an entirely separate matter.)

To your parenthetical, I don't think it matters at all in a vacuum, but this line of criticism, which isn't uncommon, strikes me as unnecessarily patronizing. To posit that Tarantino is just some kind of idiot savant who regurgitates the popular culture he's absorbed in a manner that just keeps happening to be both consistently entertaining (to many) and politically/thematically provocative and meaningful (to many) looks to me like discounting the actual work on display in favor of one's personal (dis)tastes. To be honest - and without drawing a false equivalence between the two - it reminds me of the way Hitchcock's output was so often dismissed on grounds of vulgarity and as low art appealing to the worst base impulses of a mass audience.

[hearthesilence]

Again, I flat out hated this film, but Tarantino certainly has been more politically engaged in recent years, both in his growing activism, his public remarks and his work. There is definitely an intentional political statement in this film with regards to race - I don't find it to be particularly edifying, but I don't doubt he was conscious of it.

[copen]

Spoiler

But the idea that Daisy Domergue has, in fact, known the identity of everyone in the inn for the entire time makes her seem far more resourceful that we have previously seen. It makes her threat of a larger gang waiting in town an idea that hangs in the air, simultaneously fanciful and threatening in its suggestibility. But the demonstration that Chris Mannix is actually a clever thinker, with genuine appreciation for subtlety––as evidenced by how he works out the delicate thread of false logic in Daisy's attempt to get him to switch sides––is the most unexpected and interesting turn in the film.

I'm not sure that it's as complicated as this, although I may have missed something in their interaction regarding the gang.

Spoiler

Mannix had a choice to either believe Daisy about the gang being in town, or not to believe her. He then took action based on his decision not to believe her. He had no clue if she was lying or not. It seemed to me that he just blindly decided not to believe her. And if she was telling the truth, then at the very least the gang would kill him (if he hadn't already died from blood loss before they showed up), and at most they would also kill the townspeople.

[feihong]

Well, maybe "works out the delicate thread of false logic" isn't quite the right phrase for what Mannix does, but to my mind the suggestiveness of the scene calls out for a slightly different interpretation.

The essential challenge presented to every character in the story at a number of junctions is whether or not to believe someone is representing themselves in a genuine manner––regardless of whether or not they are lying. The point that is stressed many times over the course of the film is that, even though characters don't actually trust one another, or even suspect one another of actively lying, they make pacts and bargains that are tantamount to trusting one another. They do this, from the moment John Ruth decides to let Major Warren ride his carriage onwards, because they evaluate the characters they're facing and determine to what degree their representation of themselves aligns with what they perceive to be advantageous motives. In other words, John Ruth lets Major Warren ride with him not because he believes Warren's vague story about losing his horse, but because John Ruth believes Warren to be someone essentially worthy of trust; someone who shares enough of John Ruth's personal values to make him a worthy collaborator.

Spoiler

In a sense, Warren goes on to prove worthy of that trust, completing the task John Ruth was unable to finish, at great risk and pain to himself.

Mannix faces a challenge of evaluation similar to John Ruth's,

Spoiler

when Daisy Domergue tries to convince him to turn on Major Warren. The question is whether or not Domergue is more worthy of trust than Major Warren, and the risk is that Domergue is telling the truth, or that Warren maybe has another agenda of some sort––he's been supplying new motivations as the film progresses, and the tension between Mannix and Warren is enhanced because the two of them have resented one another up until Mannix's point of crisis. So Mannix looks for a way in which one character's argument points to an inherent level of trustworthiness or untrustworthiness, and he is able to do so by a feat of some reasoning. He's able to determine that Daisy saw the coffee being poisoned and kept the secret, and he comes to realize that Daisy was going to let him be poisoned along with John Ruth. It tips Daisy's hand, so to speak, and reveals the degree to which she is a viable collaborator with Mannix––put it plain, she is not Mannix's best ally. She aspires to destruction, whereas Mannix and Warren both turn out to be standing for essential order. Warren goes on to prove he is worthy of Mannix's trust by asking that they see John Ruth's purpose to its conclusion, and hang Daisy. There's a way in which Mannix, whether he is really the new sheriff of Red Rock or not, becomes the sheriff and executes his duty in the hanging of Domergue.

To me the film is an interesting companion to Inglorious Basterds (the Tarantino film I think is the richest and most transporting). The majority of the scenes in Basterds are a series of interrogations in various settings, by various people. The scenes in Hateful Eight are all a series of needling, detective-like questioning sessions, ensconced in roughly the same setting throughout. In Basterds, characters inspire fear in their interrogations by fronting a kind of public identity they've created for themselves, which is inherently terrifying or awe-inspiring to the interogatees: Jew Hunter, Bastards, Bear Jew, war hero, movie star, despot, etc. In Hateful Eight, characters present a front for themselves, portraying themselves as one thing to hide the secrets they all contain. The interrogations in Basterds are all to intimidate other characters, to awe them with reputation, with the suggestion of identity. The interrogations in Hateful Eight are all detective-like queries to reveal the true identity of behind the false front characters present. The Bastards are heroes in Inglourious Basterds, in spite of the heinous violence they commit, in spite of their obstinate courseness, because they are true to the image they have created. Hans Landa, who is initially proud of his "Jew Hunter" moniker, is eager to disown it at the end of the film. The Bastards have a conviction that goes beyond pretense, which is why they remain the central figures in a film where nearly all the key action is undertaken by others. Hateful Eight has characters whose basic presentation of self is a detailed deception, and the question hanging over each character in the film is to what degree the available perception of who they are speaks to their true motivations. In a sense, both films query the stability of pure identity, in the face of variegated public presentation of identity. Both films present characters who, rather than being heroes or villains, are divided between those with solid, clear identities beneath their disguises and characters whose motivations are more plastic and nonlinear. There is also a number of conscious stylistic resemblances between Inglourious Basterds and Hateful Eight which suggest to me that Tarantino is consciously building Hateful Eight in relationship to what he was doing with Inglourious Basterds.

After a lot of the hate directed at the film on this board, I really expected not to enjoy it, but in fact I very much enjoyed Hateful Eight. I don't like every Tarantino movie––I'm not too deeply interested in Reservoir Dogs or Django Unchained, and was actively dispirited by Kill Bill––but I would place Hateful Eight amongst the ones I enjoy most, along with Inglourious Basterds, Jackie Brown, and Pulp Fiction. Those films have a richness that makes for revealing repeat viewings, and I think Hateful Eight will have that quality of deepening interest as well. I didn't think the violence was more intense than similar scenes in Inglourious Basterds, and the gore didn't seem as over-the-top as the gore in films by Peter Jackson, or Greg Araki, or Julie Taymor, to choose a few names generally less derided than Tarantino's. The Tarantino narration did not come across as jarring to me (it sounded like he was delivering an Agatha Christie adaptation at a dinner theater, which seemed to me like what he was going for); rather, it seemed to enrich the novelistic organizational chapter structure, which forces you to address the separate sections of the film in differing ways based upon the chapter headings. I thought the performances were exceedingly good––very meaty and rich––and Walter Goggins seemed to be dancing to his own inspired music, in the way of some of the colorful supporting actors in westerns of the 70s. The rougher editing style of Django Unchained gave way here to a more elegant style, reminiscent of Sally Menke's work on the earlier Tarantino films. To me the editing was almost as decisive and rich as in the Menke films––a quality that seemed on the wane in Django Unchained. The music in Hateful Eight seemed appropriate enough to me––though it does seem to take something away from Tarantino when he has a soundtrack that matches the action like a traditional film score. The score Morricone provides is pretty sedate. I didn't dislike it, per se, and it did seem pretty fitting. At any rate, I found the film moving, as much because it was unafraid of being ugly as because of its themes and its style. It so happened I saw Carol on the same day, and the two films went considerably far to restore my faith in the possibility of interesting, engaging Hollywood films––something else that has waned in the last few years. It's only two pictures, sure; but they were both exciting enough to make it a real moment for me.

[who is bobby dylan]

Spoiler

Mannix had a choice to either believe Daisy about the gang being in town, or not to believe her. He then took action based on his decision not to believe her. He had no clue if she was lying or not. It seemed to me that he just blindly decided not to believe her. And if she was telling the truth, then at the very least the gang would kill him (if he hadn't already died from blood loss before they showed up), and at most they would also kill the townspeople.

Spoiler

I don't think this completely describes the choice Mannix had or how he made it. Rationally he can try to decide whether or not Daisy is telling the truth, emotionally he has to decide whether to cast his lot and probable death with Warren or some chance of survival with Daisy, based on race. Whether Daisy is lying or not she is probably Mannix only chance of escape. In his decision to trust Warren he basically judges them not by the color of their skins, but by the content of their characters. It's that part of the choice that is crucial and cements what the film has to say about race and reconciliation. It's also noteworthy that Mannix is the only white character to spot Warren's deception about the letter and that unlike Ruth, Mannix appears to understand the motivation behind it.

[bearcuborg]

That's a damn good explanation of a rather silly film. Well done Bobby.

I enjoyed Morricone's contribution and the Orbison song at the end, in particular - the theme reminded me a bit of Morricone's score for The Untouchables. The 70mm was rather unnecessary, but it was nice to see Richardson not over do his usual halo lighting. Madsen seemed to be wasted as well. The moment the intermission ends is some of the worst stuff he has ever put on film.

...a master stroke by a master filmmaker.

I'll grant you that Lars, Tarantino gives good soundtrack... Master filmmaker? Does any one really take him seriously; at least as much as Quentin does anyway?

[DarkImbecile]

Master filmmaker? Does any one really take him seriously; at least as much as Quentin does anyway?

This is another fine example of the disingenuous dismissiveness I wrote about above that Tarantino seems to bring out of people; of course - if you're interested enough in cinematic culture to be a regular contributor here - you know damn well that many cinephiles and critics take Tarantino quite seriously as a major talent and one of the most important and influential directors of the last 20 years. If you disagree, then say so, but the pretense that it's inconceivable that thoughtful people wouldn't agree to lump in Tarantino with the Michael Bays and Uwe Bolls of the world is so tiresome.

[Lars Von Truffaut]

I think you have taken that quote out of context, bearcuborg. I'm stating that PAUL THOMAS ANDERSON is the master filmmaker (specifically when comparing their 70mm works) and that PTAs use of music in those films is my preference. That isn't to say that Tarantino is not a great filmmaker, but rather I haven't felt the same connection with his more recent output as everything up to (and including) "Kill Bill". Even when his work misses the mark for me, there is still a reason I'm there opening weekend.

[who is bobby dylan]

That's a damn good explanation of a rather silly film. Well done Bobby.

Thank you.

Does any one really take him seriously; at least as much as Quentin does anyway?

I will pile onto this. He has five academy award nominations. Two for directing and three for screenwriting. He's won twice for screenwriting. The AMPAS is not the be all end all of the film community, but they exist and are people. So, yes some people take him seriously. Tarantino writes and directs his own original projects. They attract major acting talent. They're profitable and earn awards recognition. He is obviously a major and or successful film artist. As an example, I don't like Almodovar's films and they're many film artists I prefer to Tarantino, but that doesn't make me oblivious to their obvious success.

As for

The 70mm was rather unnecessary

There's nothing necessary about any film or any film format. Apparently you don't think the format choice added anything to the film. I disagree with you. Other directors who've worked on large format films, Paul Thomas Anderson and Christopher Nolan disagree with you. I think it's beyond reductive at this point to keep saying 70mm must = landscape. If people want to see a vast landscape, they can go outside or take a vacation (not saying this was your problem with the format, but I've seen it mentioned in several reviews). Film making is largely a storytelling endeavor. I think Tarantino used the tool of 70mm to tell his story well. It provided him with new technical challenges (artist need new motivations) and I felt that it added to the claustrophobic effect of the film. It also had the real world effect of making the opening of the film an event based on its format (which is what 70mm was for in the first place?) it brought attention to the technology used to distribute films, and has helped expand the infrastructure for other filmmakers to do limited 70mm releases. I also appreciate the subversive element of exhibiting such a lurid movie in a format not normally associated with it, something which Tarantino has also mentioned.

On a side note, it's also nice to see a movie set in America's past that doesn't minimize the level of racism prevalent at the time by providing the audience with white surrogate character(s) who conspicuously have modern day racial values (for examples see almost every historical film). Django sidestepped this, by making that character a foreigner and killing him off. I think part of the reason reaction to The Hateful Eight has been so divided is because it doesn't feature a "liberal" white character the audience can identify with. John Ruth is not as vulgarly racist as Mannix or the general, but it's clear that he's still a racist and of course his treatment of Daisy is brutal. Daisy and Mannix are the only other major white protagonists and they're racist as well. I think this sort of depiction of the past is unsettling and I give kudos to Tarantino for doing it so matter-of-factly.

[Manny Karp]

Just a quick observation about the use of 70mm, and all the attention Tarantino, Anderson and Nolan have brought recently to the medium. First of all I think it's great to see the format being used again, even if most viewers (myself included) don't have the opportunity to see the films actually projected in 70.

What I wanted to point out was that Malick's use of 65mm for portions of The New World way back in 2004 seems to have been forgotten as perhaps the first serious narrative use of the format in recent times (unless I'm mistaken). And that (again, if I'm not mistaken) Malick reportedly used the 65 not for his big landscape shots but instead for the pronounced close-ups, which were a relatively new approach for him at the time, and which of course can be related to the arguments now regarding Tarantino and Anderson's choice of the format for "interior" films like The Master or Hateful Eight.

[DeprongMori]

Spoiler

In his decision to trust Warren he basically judges them not by the color of their skins, but by the content of their characters. It's that part of the choice that is crucial and cements what the film has to say about race and reconciliation. It's also noteworthy that Mannix is the only white character to spot Warren's deception about the letter and that unlike Ruth, Mannix appears to understand the motivation behind it.

Thank you, who is bobby dylan. The reasons for the thanks behind the next spoiler.

Spoiler

I'm convinced that the final scene in the film was structured as a parallel/retort to the climactic cabin scene near the end of Birth of a Nation, also set during Reconstruction, wherein North and South bridge their differences in their agreement that the "birth of a nation" is to be based on the imposition of White Supremacy as the divine plan for America. Given QT's pillorying of John Ford for having ridden as an extra in the KKK scenes in the film, one can take for granted that QT is very familiar with both Griffith's film and its White Supremacist agenda.

I'd been trying to sort out exactly what the replacement contract was in The Hateful Eight for the White Supremacist contract of BoaN without success. The counterpoint between "frontier justice" and "civil justice" didn't seem to be it, as the ultimate fate of Daisy was still a summary execution without trial, despite the presence of putative soon-to-be sheriff Mannix. I think you've nailed what QT was going for here. I was tempted to see this again to work that out but, frankly, it wasn't one of QT's better films and there are other things I'd like to see instead.

[bearcuborg]

I think you have taken that quote out of context, bearcuborg. I'm stating that PAUL THOMAS ANDERSON is the master filmmaker (specifically when comparing their 70mm works) and that PTAs use of music in those films is my preference. That isn't to say that Tarantino is not a great filmmaker, but rather I haven't felt the same connection with his more recent output as everything up to (and including) "Kill Bill". Even when his work misses the mark for me, there is still a reason I'm there opening weekend.

Ah, I thought you meant Tarantino's use of music at the end of The Hateful Eight. Which if you thought it was a master stroke, I agreed. I haven't kept up with Paul Thomas Anderson in the last 7 years, so I can't add much to his use of music and photography. However, even though I haven't even remotely liked a Tarantino film as a whole in nearly 20 years, I show up every time. Ditto Woody Allen.

I will say this, I liked the opening stagecoach ride - at least till Samuel L Jackson showed up and the film clumsily redefines the Civil War. I also liked the comedy with the door, and the driving of spikes to the outhouse.

If you disagree, then say so, but the pretense that it's inconceivable that thoughtful people wouldn't agree to lump in Tarantino with the Michael Bays and Uwe Bolls of the world is so tiresome.

Speaking of disingenuous dismissiveness... Then again, you're the fanboy that found deep meaning in junk like Inglorious Basterds...

[flyonthewall2983]

Just saw it today. Took a nap later, had dreams about blood. That cannot be a coincidence.

[antoniennui]

There's a scene in the second half where someone is walking through the snow while a male voice sings a ballad and I thought, "what, you could afford 70mm but not the rights to a Leonard Cohen song?"

In that scene I immediately felt that that atmospheric mix of horror and beauty was lifted from some other movie, and soon remembered it Wes Craven's LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, where a similar tune is heard

Spoiler

as a killer approaches his wounded, helpless victim for the final moment. In the old film the song sort of represented what little guilt the killer had for his actions; in HATEFUL I doubt Michael Madsen's character had any sympathy for the victim, so it was more of an exercise in homage for homage's sake than for any emotional resonance.

I think I saw David Hess (the actor from LAST HOUSE) during the song credits, so it might even be the same song.

[Mr Sausage]

Spoiler

I don't think this completely describes the choice Mannix had or how he made it. Rationally he can try to decide whether or not Daisy is telling the truth, emotionally he has to decide whether to cast his lot and probable death with Warren or some chance of survival with Daisy, based on race. Whether Daisy is lying or not she is probably Mannix only chance of escape. In his decision to trust Warren he basically judges them not by the color of their skins, but by the content of their characters. It's that part of the choice that is crucial and cements what the film has to say about race and reconciliation. It's also noteworthy that Mannix is the only white character to spot Warren's deception about the letter and that unlike Ruth, Mannix appears to understand the motivation behind it

Spoiler

What really interests me about Mannix is that he seemed to be judging Warren on his character all along. For the old general, as I'm sure with many others in the room, Warren wasn't worth knowing as anything other than his skin. Race told the general all he needed to know. But Mannix's problems with Warren were always moral: his actions in escaping from the prison. Warren's callousness always outraged Mannix's morality, a morality that didn't countenance "war is hell" excuses for atrocity. No doubt this a result of southern upbringing and misplaced chivalry, and no doubt it's contradicted by atrocities in Mannix's own past and in the pasts of men he admires. But it's a very interesting how Tarantino does not make Mannix just a goofy racist, and allows him larger and more interesting judgements. Of all the characters I think I found him the least loathsome--he was capable of compassion (he was almost the only one who cared about poor O.P.) and showed glimmerings of ethics neither absolute nor callous.

I'm with Feihong that this is a very rich film in terms of character. But I don't know what to think about a movie with this subject that embraces ridiculousness and unpleasantness so freely. It's a baffling movie. I have no idea of it coheres or if the material got away from Tarantino.