The Hateful Eight (2015) review

THE HATEFUL EIGHT 2015

Samuel L. Jackson (Major Marquis Warren), Kurt Russell (John Ruth), Jennifer Jason Leigh (Daisy Domergue), Walton Goggins (Sheriff Chris Mannix), Demian Bechir (Bob), Tim Roth (Oswaldo Mobray), Michael Madsen (Joe Gage), Bruce Dern (General Sandy Smithers), James Parks (O.B. Jackson), Dana Gourrier (Minnie Mink), Zoe Bell (Six-Horse Judy), Lee Horsley (Ed), Gene Jones (Sweet Dave), Keith Jefferson (Charly), Craig Stark (Chester Charles Smithers), Belinda Owina (Gemma), Channing Tatum (Jody)

Directed by Quentin Tarantino

The Short Version: Another three hour (187 in its roadshow version) QT snooze-fest is the ultimate in pretentiousness on the part of America's most self-congratulatory director. Tarantino delivers his most long-winded work yet, moving along, as Kurt Russell says in the film, "molasses like". Fans of the director will find all his signature staples--a dearth of extraneous, unnecessary dialog; ego-stroking scenes that go on forever; mismatched music cues; flashbacks that bridge interminable yapping with bloody violence; nods to this or that film; and frequent use of the word 'nigger'. Tarantino is nothing else if not consistent. THE HATEFUL EIGHT is more like THE WASTEFUL THREE.

While transporting a criminal to Red Rock for hanging, John Ruth picks up a few more passengers aboard his stagecoach before a massive blizzard forces them to seek refuge at a waystation for the night. Four men wait inside, all of which have some story to tell and a bloody secret that unfolds over the course of a single night.

As an opening title card informs us, this is Quentin Tarantino's 8th (Boring) Movie... another movie where people talk about nothing for extended periods of time till jarring scenes of brutality upset the tedium. His 6th Boring Movie, INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS, the war picture that never depicts an actual war, was touted as the first of one big, boring trilogy--continuing with DJANGO UNCHAINED and wrapping up with THE HATEFUL EIGHT; which apparently has connections to characters in the aforementioned and awkwardly spelled INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS. 

THE HATEFUL EIGHT is sort of a western version of Carpenter's THE THING (even implementing some of that film's unused music)--a film Tarantino already reworked to a degree for his RESERVOIR DOGS (1992). You'll also find elements that may remind you of snow-caked westerns like DAY OF THE OUTLAW (1959), the Spanish gore western CUT-THROATS NINE (1972) and Corbucci's THE GREAT SILENCE (1968). Another Italian western that seems very familiar is Giuseppe Vari's SHOOT THE LIVING AND PRAY FOR THE DEAD (1971)--a talky suspense western starring Klaus Kinski in one of his prime bad guy roles; but unlike Tarantino's movie it's only 90 minutes in length.....

Most movies, by the 70 minute mark, are building to a climax.... 70 minutes into THE HATEFUL EIGHT things are barely getting started (and there's 100 more to go!). Virtually every scene goes on ad infinitum. We're nearly 40 minutes in before the setting finally changes from a stagecoach to the "Minnie's Haberdashery"--owned and operated by Minnie, a character who is conspicuous in her absence, and one whom we meet in a flashback around the two hour mark. At that point, we're introduced (and, in some cases, re-introduced) to characters already at the cabin; and what happened to them prior to the arrival of the stagecoach.

From that point to the end, the oral onslaught continues but with the addition of extreme violence and bloodshed. It gets so ridiculous, it borders on parody. So much blood is splattered on, or seeping from, Jennifer Jason Leigh, you get the impression the director was trying to outdo the amount of red stuff Bruce Campbell wears in THE EVIL DEAD (1981). One of a few running gags, Daisy Domergue is not only drenched in bits of brains and gallons of blood, but gets punched in the face at regular intervals throughout the movie.

An epic in self-indulgence is what's really up on screen in 70mm. It's the director's ultimate gab-fest, trapping a group of people in a single locale where they talk... and talk.... and talk..... often repeating the same things over and over again. Imagine a record player skipping for 170 minutes. THE HATEFUL EIGHT is a near 3 hour bomb of intentionally repetitive ego-stroking.

One example of this film's monotonousness is witnessing people entering the establishment having to hammer nails into the door over and over again to keep the biting freeze of winter's breath from getting inside. Some half a dozen times we watch as various cast members nail flimsy boards into a door without a latch. Some would call this a running gag; I call it an editing problem. 

Mercifully, Tarantino doesn't give himself an onscreen part in his Wild West version of GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER (1967), but he does narrate a few scenes; and not in a Morgan Freeman sort of way... no, it's like he's reading a book while sipping on a cup of hot chocolate by a warm fire. Merely telling us what we can clearly see transpiring onscreen, this does nothing to progress the story in any way.

There are some nice things on display, though. The director captures some awe-inspiring shots that serve the gloomy atmosphere very well. Sadly, these are few and far between; this is even more unfortunate since the director shot his picture in 70mm--a novel choice if only Tarantino had opted to take advantage of the process. Take THE ALAMO (1960), for instance. John Wayne's sprawling epic was that and more with the wider angle lens fitting the action like a glove. Tarantino, on the other hand, wants to give his audience an epic but settles for a stage play/sitcom style scenario where the setting is a single location. Why even bother? What's the point of having more room to play with if you're confining yourself to one room--two if you count the 40 minute slog inside a stagecoach.

The acting is mostly top-notch, which, considering the cast, is to be expected. Unfortunately, the director's penchant for doing everything over the top ruins any serious attempt at the material. For example, there's another tiresome running gag, this one about Samuel L. Jackson having a letter from Abraham Lincoln that opens the door for Tarantino to utilize his favorite epithet for comedy relief as opposed to further defining the villains--as there's no hero(es) here at all. Two times back to back we hear this line from a shocked Tim Roth and Walter Goggins, "The nigger in the stable... has a letter from Abraham Lincoln?!" Later as they sit at a table eating hot stew, the Lincoln letter comes up for the third time; and again, Tarantino indulges his repetitive nature.

 

In interviews the director said he infused his film with social relevance; yet there is little of it. Tarantino turns post-Civil War racial tension into a blood-drenched comedy routine. The two most unlikely of friends end up joining forces not because they've set aside, or even solved their differences, but out of a need for survival. The film wastes three hours exploring nothing of substance.

In all fairness there are a few strong moments that punctuate a scene or two, but the effect is mostly obliterated by a reliance on camp. The best of these suspense moments is the exchange between Samuel L. and Bruce Dern--two former enemies on the battlefield who still harbor a great deal of hatred between them. The scene in question has Major Warren (Jackson) feigning a desire to, metaphorically speaking, lay down arms a second time. It's a very well done sequence in terms of the editing; although Tarantino messes up the flow with a flashback--which is odd considering the sheer number of bland convos he gives the audience without any visualization at all. Unfortunately he mucks up the sequence with an awkward fellatio infused climax (haha).

Elsewhere, the KNB FX are as splattery as ever; even if they feel out of place in a movie that has people talking for hours uttering worthless dialog. There's no denying the director is a good writer, but narcissism has been the man's guiding force for at least seven years now; since as far back as his exploitation movie without any exploitation, the car wreck that was DEATH PROOF--one half of the failed 70s throwback, GRINDHOUSE (2009).

Most movies just get on with it. This one wants to take its shoes off and sit a spell. Tarantino continues to outdo himself; whether that's a good or bad thing depends on your opinion of the director's works. Fans of QT will lap it up while others will enjoy a three hour nap. It's a shame THE HATEFUL EIGHT is such a turgid experience; there's a fine story buried beneath three hours of pompous pandering by a director writing the longest love letter ever... to himself.

The Culpepper Cattle Company (1972) review

 
THE CULPEPPER CATTLE COMPANY 1972

Gary Grimes (Ben Mockridge), Billy Green Bush (Frank Culpepper), Luke Askew (Luke), Bo Hopkins (Dixie Brick), Geoffrey Lewis (Russ), Wayne Sutherlin (Missoula), John McLiam (Thornton Pierce), Matt Clark (Pete), Raymond Guth (Cook), Anthony James (Nathaniel), Hal Needham (Burgess), Royal Dano (Cattle Rustler), Gregory Sierra (One-eyed Horse Thief)

Directed by Dick Richards

"Cover him, kid.... if he moves, kill him."

The Short Version: One of the best of the cynic westerns is this coming of age story about a boy's rite of passage to manhood in becoming a cowpuncher--only to discover prairie life isn't all it's cracked up to be. Another bleak, yet provocative, defeatist western of the 1970s, this one's an oater road movie that trespasses onto territory owned by THE WILD BUNCH (1969) for the finale. Preachy and violent in equal doses, the film may not be palatable for those accustomed to, or expecting, a more linear sagebrush saga. Well acted by a fantastic cast of familiar faces and masterfully filmed by the director and his crew, you will feel the dirt, sweat and funk in this tale of hard life and true grit.

Youngin' Ben Mockridge wants to be a cowboy somethin' fierce so he gets a job on Frank Culpepper's cattle drive headin' out from Texas to Fort Lewis in Colorado. The kid wants to see the world and become a man; only the world ain't quite what he's expectin' after runnin' into cattle rustlers, trappers, horse thieves, and Thornton Pierce--a snivelin', connivin' land baron--a right mean bastard if ever was one. After makin' a stand for a passel o' religious folk, the kid learns a lot about life on a trail paved in a whole lotta blood, violence n' death.

The dust and dirt of the Wild West comes filthily to life in this drab in color, but luminously thematic post-Civil War action-drama about a kid who wants to leave small town life behind and experience what he thinks will be a flashier existence as a cowboy; a career that, as described by the Culpepper Cattle Company's cook, "somethin' you do when you can't do nothin' else". Buying himself a $4 dollar pistol, Ben Mockridge (played with just the right amount of innocence and naivety by Gary Grimes), the kid, has grown up romanticizing the cowboy lifestyle; it's only when he actually experiences it does he grow into a man and learn a lot about life... and death. 

 
As the movie progresses the kid picks up little attributes of the men around him and occasionally riles up the very man who took him on as a cowboy-in-training. There's no father-son relationship here, it's strictly 'carry your own weight or get carried out... or buried'. At one point, stern trail boss Culpepper, as much an individualist as he is a businessman, has had enough of the kid after their horses are stolen due to another of the kid's screw-ups. He makes up for it a short time later when he identifies the men responsible for the equine thievery (leading to one of the picture's most suspenseful moments) in a cramped saloon. The kid makes his first kill in this scene, too. There's no elaboration on how this affects him--at least not till the end after a fateful crossing of paths with a bunch of Mormons led by Nathaniel (played by the always welcome character actor Anthony James). Refusing to leave after a death threat from the guy who owns the property, one Thornton Pierce, the film becomes THE WILD BUNCH (1969) for a bloody finish that's both powerful and poignant.

Directed by former photographer Dick Richards, he shows a meticulous eye for detail in virtually every frame. Everything looks weathered and lived in as does all the characters. Even with a lack of characterization in some cases, everyone, despite their chosen profession, shows signs of having survived some form of adversity by all the dirt and funk that marks their bodies. The director and his DP's show a striking sense of camera placement, capturing imagery of the actors that looks like it could be a glossy snapshot taken in the 1800s. 

Even the sound design has been carefully handled. The bullet sounds, for example, have an echo in certain shots that make them sound even more powerful heightening the sense of realism.

This was the highly successful Jerry Bruckheimer's first producer credit, and the first of four team-ups with Dick Richards.

Episodic in structure, the script is successful in building several characters the audience grows to care about whether they be good, bad, or ugly. Basically a series of vignettes strung together, all of which involve the kid in some way whether intentionally or inadvertently. It's when the kid is sent on a mini-adventure to bring back gunfighters (including WILD BUNCHer Bo Hopkins and bad guy fave Luke Askew), particularly one named Russ Caldwell (Geoffrey Lewis in his first movie role of substance), that the picture adds an even grittier aura to the remainder of the 92 minute celluloid cattle drive. 

Oddly enough, the cowboy life isn't glamorized, but the outlaw lifestyle is. They might be a quartet of cut-throats, but we come to like Russ and his three-man band with Luke (Luke Askew), Dixie Brick (Bo Hopkins), and Missoula (Wayne Sutherlin). They're a rowdy bunch who kill men with impunity and talk of robbing banks while the others tell tall tales of saloon whore exploits. They are the anti-heroes of the film. The closest to a good guy we get is reformed gunslinger, Frank Culpepper.

Played by Billy Green Bush (ELECTRA GLIDE IN BLUE [1973]), Frank is all business now. Caring only about his cows, he takes a lot of shit on the trail, but keeps moving towards his destination. Putting his gunslinger past behind him, on two occasions those around him remark, "there are some things in life more important than cattle". Things come to a head after two embarrassing run-ins with a hard ass bully of a land baron, the aforementioned Thornton Pierce; a late-arriving villain, and a catalyst for the transformation of the anti-heroes to unlikely heroes.

Forced off a piece of property being occupied by a group of pitiful Mormons, the kid decides to leave Mr. Culpepper and stay behind to help the passive settlers; assuring martyrdom once Thornton returns, fulfilling his promise to kill'em all. Having left both their guns and their dignity behind, Russ can't handle two insults back to back so he and his Wild Bunch have one of those "Awwww, shit" moments, and ride back to make a stand with the kid. It's in this last "episode" where the film, in showing its Peckinpah influence, paints the wagons red.

Beginning on an upbeat note, the film ends on an expected downbeat one that is familiar to the defeatist western paradigm. Nowhere is this more profound than at the beginning seeing the kid's glow at holding a gun, putting it on and practicing his not-so-quick-draw. By the time the movie finishes, the kid, disillusioned with the whole cowboy life, throws down the gun he was so enamored with, presumably to return home. The trail life failed him as did the Mormons he and the four gunslingers put their lives on the line for.

The Jerry Goldsmith and Tom Scott score is a notable combination of folksy, upbeat cues and somber religious tunes. The use of 'Amazing Grace' is especially poignant. It's a fine selection and both composers would go on to prosperous careers. 

 
Shot in the sweltering heat of Mexico for around ten weeks in 1971, Dick Richards wrangled an impressive first theatrical feature. Afterward, he was being pitched to direct ROOSTER COGBURN (1975) starring John Wayne and Katherine Hepburn, but didn't find the script to his liking. He then lost out on JAWS (1975). His insistence on changing Benchley's Great White shark to a whale ensured he didn't get the job. Instead he followed up with another road movie in RAFFERTY AND THE GOLD DUST TWINS (1975) and the crime drama FAREWELL, MY LOVELY (1975). He helmed a fairly lame slasher movie titled DEATH VALLEY in 1982.

An unconventional western even by downer western standards, THE CULPEPPER CATTLE CO. is an engrossing, at times exciting, story of a boy who undergoes a grueling rite of passage from adolescence to manhood. Exceedingly polished in its depiction of true grit and a lack of cleanliness, Culpepper and his cowpunchers take the viewer on a journey worth experiencing.

This review is representative of the Fox DVD. Specs and Extras: anamorphic widescreen 1.85:1 Side B/Fullscreen Side A; Extras: Production Stills Gallery; Behind the Scenes Gallery; Theatrical Trailer; running time:1:32:28