A Hatful of Hateful


To Edinburgh Filmhouse, to see THE HATEFUL EIGHT in 70mm, complete with overture and intermission.

Last 70mm opportunity was THE MASTER, which it was hoped would be projected at Filmhouse — they were promised a print from London. The London cinema put their best projectionist on the job. But for the press show, they handed it to someone with less experience, since it was only critics, only the people whose verdict might help bring the public in… and he wrecked the print. So no Edinburgh 70mm of that one.

I’m not really a film snob, though watching TRUMBO recently it was obvious to me that for certain kinds of period feel it’s always going to be superior. And the look of Tarantino’s film (apart from, surprisingly, one flickering shot at the start — not sure if this was a projection problem or a filming issue) benefits from the rich, fine grain of Super 65mm Cinerama. But as to the projection, were it not for one tiny scratch and the “cigarette burns” signalling reel changes, I wouldn’t have known it was film and not a DCP. Still, those little imperfections have a nostalgic value.

I have simultaneously been impressed and amused by the last couple of Tarantino films, while also finding them wildly offensive. A lot of negative reviews on this one made me suspect I might really hate it — more violence, more dubious use of racial epithets, more over-extended talk scenes. In fact, I didn’t find it quite as obnoxious as INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS or DJANGO UNCHAINED. It wasn’t about the Holocaust or slavery, is the simple reason why. It does purport to deal with race in America, however, and like its predecessors it comes up against the limitations of genre cinema in addressing complex, serious real-world issues. It doesn’t manage to highlight these problems in the way that IB arguably does, which might be that film’s redeeming trait (if we leave aside the funny bits and tense bits and clever bits), but its failure to bend the rules of the Tarantino universe to incorporate a coherent state of the nation address did not, for me, result in a film more unpleasant than DJANGO UNCHAINED.

Those who were incensed or bored by the film’s excesses do have my sympathy, but I got to that point two films ago, so I’m less upset about this one.

In the spirit of kindly critique — since I went with very shaky expectations, I don’t feel outrage is appropriate — I want to offer some thoughts on how the film might have succeeded better at some of its apparent goals.


It feels like Tarantino has been trapped by his cool title. He’s compelled to populate his wide frame with horribly obnoxious characters. Yet while every single one of the protagonists of RESERVOIR DOGS was a career criminal, several of them were at least somewhat likable some of the time, and there were certain gradations of nastiness. Fiona, who first saw the movie on VHS, was snarling “Shoot him!” within five minutes of Mr. Blond’s appearance.

If this seems like I’m calling for the film to use more conventional, hence more boring characterisation, maybe I am, but would RESERVOIR DOGS be improved if Harvey Keitel were shown laughing at a woman being beaten, or if Steve Buscemi were a virulent racist? Wouldn’t the tension of HATEFUL 8 be increased if Kurt Russell were less brutish, Samuel Jackson less psychopathic? Wouldn’t everything get better if the characters weren’t all so SIMILAR? It’s my view that if you’re going to spend most of three hours shut in a room with a small crowd of characters, the more varied they are then the more entertaining the experience will be. Making them all variations on the cold-blooded killer model seems wasteful.



Yes, the N word. And the repeated woman-punching. The explanations Tarantino has offered for his infatuation with that particular term do not satisfy. But he may believe some of them. I felt it was a bit ridiculous to protest the word’s inclusion in DJANGO UNCHAINED, given the social context — it was more worthwhile to protest the film’s falsification of that context (the fantasy of “Mandingo fighting,” for instance). But there’s one use of the word right at the end of DU, where the word is used as punchline to a Lone Ranger reference, which is pertinent here, because Tarantino is now using the word as punchline to jokes in which Samuel L. Jackson is the butt. (And I worry about how history will regard Jackson for his participation in these two films.)

As with the “humour” around Jennifer Jason Leigh’s frequent pummelings, it’s probable that Tarantino intends us to find this comedy uncomfortable. But it isn’t the comedy of discomfort you might find in, I don’t know, WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? The jokes are played straight, and it’s up to the audience to find them difficult IF the audience is sensitive enough. Straightforward racists and misogynists can just laugh.



The films Tarantino admires include many taboo-busting, challenging movies from the seventies. He also likes lots of exploitation movies which gleefully present shocking and distasteful scenes. He wants to replicate the WTF factor of these movies, but either he knows he can’t get away with some of their excesses, or doesn’t wish to go there. His attempts to combine serious, shocking cinema with frivolous, shocking cinema seem foredoomed to me, because the two justifications he uses, “What? I’m making a serious point, here,” and “What? It’s only a bit of fun!” do not in fact reinforce each other, they cancel each other out. To use a western analogy, it’s a bit like the man accused of stealing another man’s horse, who says “I don’t steal horses, and anyway, you have a lousy horse.”



This is the second film (RESERVOIR DOGS being the first) Tarantino has made which essentially remakes John Carpenter’s paranoia/cabin-fever chiller THE THING. Here he even has the wintry locale and the same leading man and some of the same music. One character even accuses another of acting paranoid, a term I sort of doubt was common parlance at the time the story is set. The question of how historically accurate the film is meant to be, or feel, is frankly unanswerable, with “Completely” and “Not at all” both seeming possibly valid interpretations of the filmmakers intent.

The sense that QT is running out of ideas is exacerbated by the familiar play with time, which here mainly amounts to a long-ish flashback designed to explain and recontextualize the set-up we encounter at Minnie’s Haberdashery. In fact, the flashback supplies almost no important information we couldn’t guess (the mystery I was most concerned with — how the door got busted — is unaddressed, unless I missed something). The main point of showing this sequence seems to be to reveal that the people killed before the story begins were all lovely and innocent. Minnie, who we have been told hates Mexicans, seems a wholly delightful person, in a mixed-race marriage herself, and she betrays no prejudice when dealing with a Mexican character in the flashback. The suspicion grows that the stuff about her barring Mexicans was essentially only included because Tarantino couldn’t resist a racist joke.

Tarantino has invoked Agatha Christie, an odd reference since the only clear whodunnit does not arise until after the intermission, and the question is answered within what felt to me like twenty minutes. What I’m saying is, the film is not structurally as interesting as other QT movies have been (though I recall DJANGO UNCHAINED essentially plodding through its narrative in chronological fashion — have I forgotten something?)

I felt when I saw TRUE ROMANCE, a non-linear QT script straightened out and played in sequence by director Tony Scott, that QT’s stuff didn’t stand up to the clear overview provided by a chronological ordering. Had the film used the script’s “answers first, questions later” approach, I might have been less bothered by Christopher Walken vanishing from the story after killing the hero’s father, and I might have been less bothered by the hero generally causing death and destruction to other people wherever he goes, out of sheer idiocy. I like to think I would still have been quite bothered, but maybe a bit less. Getting dropped into the middle of a situation deprives you of an overview to be judgemental with — “you can’t see an environment when you’re in it” — and you just have to watch the characters attempt to deal with the situation. You can relate as soon as you understand the basic urgent situation. So the missing heist scene in RESERVOIR DOGS really helps — the problem of Tim Roth’s critical injury is allowed to outweigh his participation in an armed robbery, and his betrayal of his gang.



Roth (doing a mix of Terry-Thomas and what seems like David Puttnam) and Michael Madsen are back here. In each QT film, rather appealingly, he uses his clout to restore to prominence a star who has fallen by the wayside. Here, with a kind of full-circle inevitability, he rescues Madsen, whom he had initially boosted with his first feature. The eight are a patchwork of actors QT has mostly used before, with Jennifer Jason Leigh as standout new-to-the-fold star. I’m glad to have her back, but not sure I want her back like this. Though she does some nice physical stuff, scratching her head after removing her hat (because hats make your head hot and itchy), extruding a tongue to catch snowflakes. Odd, this emphasis on the tactile in a character virtually indifferent to extreme pain. Daisy Domergue’s ability to shrug off atrocious bodily harm is probably the best claim the movie has to be “like a cartoon,” as composer Ennio Morricone has said. But KING-SIZE CANARY is shorter. I could watch it twenty-three times during THE HATEFUL 8.

Walton Goggins is doing Burton Gilliam’s performance from BLAZING SADDLES. He doesn’t try to make Jackson sing “De Camptown Ladies” but he might as well.



Here I get into spoilers, maybe — I won’t tell you what happens but you might guess some of it from my discussion of what doesn’t happen.

Is this a state-of-the-nation address, as Tarantino has claimed? I think if the ending had more of the horror of THE BIG SILENCE, we could buy that. I mean, it’s unpleasant, nihilistic and blackly ironic, but nothing about it is likely to disturb QT’s core audience. Had the sheriff made a deal with the bandits, killed Samuel L. Jackson, and ridden off happily into the sunrise, we would have been upset, despite the Jackson character’s frequent unpleasantness. We would have felt something wrong. But Tarantino doesn’t really want to distress the viewer in that way, so his films are only ever going to flatter his constituency — their knowing laughter is always going to be the correct response.

Like I say, I got more enjoyment out of this nasty, brutish and long film than I expected. Kurt Russell and Jackson and Roth and Leigh kept me entertained, and there’s something to be said for lingering over group dynamics in a single space for a looong time.

11 Responses to “A Hatful of Hateful”

  1. In real life Quentin is a rather pleasant and convivial person. In “reel life” quite the opposite. He’s what’s come to be known as a “wigger” — a white man whose insatiable desire for “hipness” drives him to imagine he can achieve a kind of “Vulcan Mind-Meld” with African-Americans

    AS IF!!!!!

    His films are so deeply unpleasant that I’ve passed on seeing any of them after “Au Revoir les Enfants” (I trust you know the joke)

    This one appears to be a remake of DeToth’s “Day f the Outlaw.”

    I find my time is better spent elsewhere.

  2. Day of the Outlaw crossed with The Thing.

    Yes, the Au Revoir les Enfants joke is a good one.

    There are a lot of points in this one which could be attacked on grounds of credibility, undermining the film’s claim to have anything to say about race — Jackson thinks he can kill a white man and claim self-defense, for instance…

  3. I think the door got busted when one of the innocent characters in Minnie’s Habadashery fled the massacre.

    And I think the point about Minnie being racist might have just been a way for Samuel L. Jackson to test Mexican Bob? Although given how much this film is about how hatred bonds people together (I mean, Jackson & Goggins are basically united over their virulent hatred of Daisy at the end), it could just be proof of how virulent racism is.

    Good point about how Jackson’s performances in this and DJANGO will be received in the future. On the other hand (I have a good dozen, based on my waffling), his performances in both movies have been better than Jackson’s normal range of work has been in years. Compared to his sleepwalking through the Marvel movies, his work for QT has a level of commitment that makes me want to see him in more serious roles instead of just genre films.

  4. Tarantino isn’t going to let anyone sleepwalk, I guess. Oh, except Jackson in Jackie Brown, playing it by numbers.

    Note the bit where Jackson effortlessly engages Dern in conversation in order to provoke him — when shortly before Dern had refused to acknowledge his existence. I thought that was bending the characters out of shape for the sake of the plot.

    I’m glad the door had an explanation!

  5. chris schneider Says:

    (ONE) put me in mind of a review I had read recently, Glenn Erickson on George Marshall’s SHOW THEM NO MERCY! — a film which, with its trapped protagonists, might seem a bit QT-esque. At least Cesar Rometo, the gangster, got a chance to dress up and sing “Oh, You Nasty Man!” to himself while cooking eggs. No reason why a similar moment might not work in Tarantino World.

    Btw, Margo Channing in ALL ABOUT EVE complains that she doesn’t know what the word “paranoid” means. If she don’t know, what’s the likelihood of Tarantino’s characters knowing?

  6. I think “persecution mania” was briefly popular before “paranoid” and one can’t quite imagine that in the old west, unless coming from the lips of a fabled frontier psychiatrist.

    Paranoid is one of those words so useful it’s hard to imagine how we ever got by without it. “Antsy” would probably be our closest equivalent.

  7. The anachronistic use of ‘paranoid’ may be an homage to the 1966 remake of Stagecoach, specifically to the scene where The Ringo Kid (Alex Cord) comforts the tearful Dallas (Ann-Margaret): “Might as well let them tears out. Sometimes we hold things inside and sort o’ repress ’em. Then they stay bottled up an’ poison us. I reckon.”

  8. I still don’t know how I feel about this one. I’m not sure if I smiled at the music cue lifted straight from The Thing out of genuine amusement or irony, but I know I still haven’t washed the BJ scene off of me yet. Still feel dirty, stain of ick still on my soul.

  9. There’s always been an ugliness to the Tarantino sensibility, hasn’t there? People differ mainly in how much of it they can absorb without feeling ill.

  10. I hated the ending. HATED it. Left me with a bad taste in my mouth, which is the first time that has happened to me with a QT movie. I can’t say more without major spoilers.

    If Jennifer Jason Leigh was such a badass, I think we needed to see it, rather than just hear about it from other people. They’re all hateful, so why should we believe anything they say about her? And in the end she’s not even the leader of her gang! I don’t mind everyone’s hatefulness per se, but the all-round dumbness became boring; a bit more duplicity and bluff and counter-bluff wouldn’t have gone astray.

    I like the idea of people not being what they appear to be – I just think all of this should have been cleverer. It was all disappointingly straightforward & so predictable I felt cheated when it was all laid out as though the structure were something really unusual and ingenious. I don’t mind lots of dialogue if it’s GOOD dialogue, but Tarantino’s once-golden touch seems to have deserted him; it was just repetitive and dull.

    I was hoping more for something like King Hu’s The Fate of Lee Khan (two-thirds of which is set in an inn), in which nearly everyone is pretending to be someone else, and part of the (extreme) tension arises from us desperately hoping the right people manage to get hold of the MacGuffin, and the wrong people don’t see through their disguises in the meantime.

    I never thought I’d find exploding heads tedious, but they came pretty close in this.

  11. Well, there are only a few seconds of exploding heads in the three hours. They’re good quality exploding heads, but they don’t make up for the simplicity of the overall conception. There IS some good dialogue, maybe not quotable, exactly, but amusing, but there are also overextended ideas, like the discussion of horses in the stagecvoach, a riff on something already done better in Django (all the horses have names, which I take to be a William Witney thing).

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