The Hateful Eight

Tarantino's Ten Little Blacks... I mean, bad guys in a nearly three-hour intimate snowy movie in a western style. If his plan is still valid, that after ten films he ends up with cinematography and starts with the theater. If so, we have many reasons to feel excited about that. In a same way that the staging department will be since the will be supposed to clean the stage from tons of blood after every performance. And although I have some fundamental reservations about the way it is built in the Eighth (and that it is almost a repetition of the fourth chapter of the Inglourious Basterds) and the tension between the characters should have been even bigger, but on the other hand, brilliant dialogs and cast were flawless. And as a fan of Goggins, I appreciate how he seized the opportunity when someone finally gave him adequate space in the film. (08/01/2016)

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? (09/01/2016)

The Hateful Eight get off to a weaker and quite long start, but then becomes a hardcore Tarantino movie par excellence. A clever theatre play with audience expectations and reminiscent of both Reservoir Dogs and Carpenter’s The Thing in western guise (the movie adopted three distinctive soundtrack pieces, an isolated frosty winter environment, the scene of finding the culprit in the characters’ own ranks…). Also, thanks to the sinister music by Morricone, this is the darkest, most hateful Tarantino movie, more hateful than the hateful Reservoir Dogs. Samuel L. Jackson, who revives some of the traits of his most iconic character, Jules Winnfield, is probably the coolest actor of today. His black dick story is just topnotch. Quentin knows he can do whatever he wants and we will always fall for it! (07/01/2016)

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? (29/12/2015)

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. (13/01/2016)