The Hateful Eight

Extremely indulgent, long and self-absorbed Tarantino, who set the Reservoir Dogs back 150 years in time, doubled the running time and changed about 20 percent of the script and dialogue. I wouldn't have expected something so unoriginal given his previous work. Of course the traditional long dialogue passages licked to absurdity are great, as are the lead actors and the expected splatter finale, but there have been enough of those spaghetti westerns. Topping it off is Tim Roth, who tries in vain to do the exact same gestures and creations as Christoph Waltz, who was clearly not up to the task for this winter romp. Where is the inventiveness, originality and multi-themed homage to everything possible and impossible with a ton of ideas at every turn that was so evident in Kill Bill? (01/09/2016)

I'm sick and tired of the over-the-top violence in Tarantino's films, and I write this as someone who enjoys Fulci and similar masters of horror gore. Unlike most, I enjoyed the first hour more, with the witty dialogues that, if fleshed out to a greater scope, would have made a fine play. But then Quentin breaks free with his explicit bloody charge and it all goes to hell. This is a symptom in all his recent films, you know exactly what is coming in the next few minutes. Moreover, as the story unfolds, it makes less and less sense, with a verbal diarrhea that feels unnatural thrown at the viewer. Would real characters talk this mechanically? I still can't get enough of Pulp Fiction to this day, it's a masterpiece where everything clicks, but ever since Kill Bill, which was Tarantino's last great film in my eyes, his work has become more and more distant. There's no longer any excitement on my part, just cautious curiosity, and that's a shame. (01/11/2016)

A self-indulgent massage of the creative ego, which has grown to manic proportions in the use of epic cinematic toys (Ennio, 70 mm, Nicoreto), all whilst covering itself for three hours with a banal story that commits obscure suicide in the form of the chapter "Earlier that morning," destroying the last vestiges of credibility. The much-maligned first hour is in no way useless, and the snow rascals couldn't have gotten better casting (all of them amazing, but Goggins' Mannix undergoes the most interesting evolution of audience sympathy). Thus, even if common sense starts to politely resist it after all the grand circles, Tarantino proves again how cheap of a whore the audience can be at times and gets hooked by banalities we'd long ago boo others for. If, in the end, you accept the fact that the absence of Quentin's traditional absurdist humor is actually a good thing, you're going to like the film. 4 ½. (01/13/2016)

Even though Quentin Tarantino is not my cup of tea, I am always curious about his next movie. However, after the years I already know that he will surprise me with nothing else than the fact that he keeps roping one acting ace after another into his movies. That may be the reason why I still cannot miss single one of his movies. And The Hateful Eight again did not disappoint. If I wouldn’t blame the actors, whom I hold in high respects, I would blame the film itself, which incredibly overacts. The 182 minutes of footage really show Quentin’s big confidence as he thinks that I will fall for a film this long. The problem is that he stretched a good premise twice as long than this kind of film would deserve. For example, the first scene in the post chaise is incredibly deadening and boring, and nothing fundamental happens there. The film gets a really interesting touch only towards the ending, when something finally starts to happen. At the time you can expect basically anything because everybody playing in this movie has a character so absurd that the audience knows that anything can happen. Actors with their polished English from the American countryside create the impression that almost every line uttered in the movie is a catchphrase. And there is quite a lot of them. Tarantino again did not disappoint. However, it never ceases to fascinate me that his fans still buy everything he makes. Just switch the locations for the Second World War and you get Inglorious Basterds. Switch it for the America filled with gangsters and you get Pulp Fiction. Is this movie really that original as it pretends to be? (01/10/2016)

An almost detective-like Tarantino, with amazing casting at its back moves the genre into entirely uncharted waters (well, snowy hills) while still remaining himself. A well balanced team of actors, headed by Samuel L. Jackson, gives masterful performances, supported by amazing dialogues and catchphrases. The stunning camerawork offers breathtaking sceneries - at times like from another world - and Morricone’s music is gloomy and cold in a way we haven’t heard for a long time. A quality piece. So you’re just starting to imagine it all, right? (12/29/2015)