Cindy Prascik's Review of The Hateful Eight

 

 

Dearest Blog: If the truth of Awards Season is sacrifice, the truth of the holiday season seems to be haste. Hurry here, hurry there, never enough time to fit everything in. Thus, at the ungodly (movie) hour of 9:30 this morning, I found myself at "not my" cinema for a screening of Quentin Tarantino's The Hateful Eight. 

 

Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers. 

 

Dear Reader(s), every December, I visit New York City. Every December, without fail, someone in my group gets 9:00 a.m. Rockettes tickets, so we have to set out at stupid o'clock to see they get to Radio City bright and early for all those peppermint-stick costumes and high kicks. 

 

A person can reasonably be expected to handle just so much of certain things at that hour of the day; the enforced chipperness of the Rockettes is one of those things, and Quentin Tarantino is most certainly another. I have never, ever understood 9:00 a.m. Rockettes tickets. 

 

I am neither a fan nor not-a-fan of Quentin Tarantino. I know what I'm always getting in a Tarantino flick: gratuitous violence and scenarios that shock for the sake of it. 

 

Sometimes that's just stray garbage scattered about a great picture, sometimes the entire movie belongs in the dumpster. 

 

Unfortunately for The Hateful Eight, it appears to be trash day. This muddled mess does nothing to earn or justify its over-three-hour runtime. 

 

Uniformly despicable characters prattle on endlessly, only a fraction of their willfully repulsive dialogue necessary to provide backstory or propel the film forward. The graphic, incessant brutality is no less abhorrent for being expected. 

 

The Hateful Eight has a handful of terrific moments, mostly courtesy of Walton Goggins, as well as a wonderful score and top-notch sound editing, but, generally speaking, this one's a dud. The Hateful Eight runs 167 minutes and is rated R for "strong, bloody violence, a scene of violent sexual content, language, and some graphic nudity." 

 

A bloated exercise in ego, The Hateful Eight neither enlightens nor entertains; it only bores and disgusts. 

 

Of a possible nine Weasleys, The Hateful Eight gets two. 

 

Until next time, I wish a happy New Year to anyone and everyone who ever takes a moment to read my ramblings. 

 

May 2016 be peaceful, healthy, and prosperous for you all. See you at the pictures!