The good news is I can now firmly say I am cutting ties with the once innovative, provocative filmmaker, and will not waste another penny on his pointless, self-indulgent, pandering, gratuitous drivel.
It became apparent after his Oscar-winning Pulp Fiction (1994) that Tarantino was going to go unchecked in the editing room. Every scene is 5-10 minutes too long resulting in every film being 30-45 minutes too long. And too long for all the wrong reasons. Never-ending, precious/redundant conversations between “dangerous yet charming” men that ultimately lead to cartoonish explosions of masturbatory violence.
With Inglorious Basterds (2009), Tarantino went out on a limb and explained to us all that the Nazis were evil and deserved to be trapped in a movie house and slaughtered like fish in a barrel. Who could argue? Just good clean fun.
With Django Unchained (2012), he boldly exposed slavery for its inhumane cruelty only to have one of the master’s “servants” become the main nemesis of the film’s unchained slave hero. Easy target meets maddening hypocrisy.
Now, the writer-director has outdone himself in the soap box department by informing us all that the North was good and the South was bad during the Civil War, and that women can get their heads blown off just as grotesquely as men, all while using the “N” word and the “B” word more times than any film in history (even out doing this year’s Straight Outta Compton).
Tarantino’s choice of language and themes says much more about the man himself than I think he realizes. What did Shakespeare say in Hamlet…“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”
If you are a Tarantino Kool-Aid drinker you may just love this 70mm lump of coal. There were people in our sold out theatre who laughed at every “joke” and applauded enthusiastically at the film’s end. Not sure I would trust many of these folks to babysit young children.
If you were unknowingly and innocently planning to go see The Hateful Eight, a much talked about Western shot in this glorious old Hollywood epic film format, do yourself a huge favor and spend your money instead on J.J. Abrams’ wildly entertaining Star Wars: The Force Awakens.
If you’re like me, a Tarantino “fan” (loved Res Dogs and Jackie Brown!) who went in hoping for the best, but in the back of your mind knowing you were expecting the worst, I wish I could have warned you sooner.