The Hateful Eight Movie Review (2. Quentin Tarantino's ultraviolent, ultra- talky sorta- Western . Set in the post- Civil War era, the movie pits a group of criminals and criminally brutal lawmen against each other in a snowbound Wyoming cabin. Tarantino takes his sweet time assembling his core cast. He spends nearly a half- hour on a stagecoach ride that introduces a mustachioed fugitive tracker, John . Marquis Warren (Samuel L.

My husband and I were saying the same thing, about The Hulk and Thor being switched, today when we got to that point in watching through the movie series. At D23 Expo, going on right now, Marvel unveiled a life-size statue of Thanos as he’ll appear in Avengers: Infinity War. And unlike previous glimpses of the Mad. Joss Whedon, Writer: The Avengers. Joss Whedon is the middle of five brothers - his younger brothers are Jed Whedon and Zack Whedon. Both his father, Tom Whedon and.

Jackson), an ex- slave turned anti- Confederate war hero turned bounty hunter whose record of wartime atrocities makes Ruth distrust him and Mannix hate his guts. Advertisement. When they arrive at the cabin—a watering hole known as Minnie's Haberdashery that seems as improbably vast on the inside as Snoopy's doghouse—they are joined by more characters. Sci Fi Movies Dvd Girlhood Movie Poster (2015). There's a furtive and rather cryptic Mexican (Demian Bichir) who calls himself Bob, a former Confederate general (Bruce Dern), a smug and effete British hangman (Tim Roth, filling what might otherwise be the Christoph Waltz part), and a smirking gunman named Joe Gage (Michael Madsen, doing the Michael Madsen thing). The joint's owner, Minnie, is nowhere to be found, and her husband is missing as well.

The character tally actually adds up to nine by this point, if you count the driver, but he's not really hateful, so maybe you shouldn't. And if you've glanced at a poster or trailer or IMDB, you know Tarantino will add more cast members, including Channing Tatum; Zoe Bell; Dana Gourrier of . The movie is filled with playful and curious surprises: not just of the plot twist or character- revelation variety, but what might termed . This is a director who hires the Mahler of spaghetti Westerns, Ennio Morricone, whose work he's sampled many times, to create an original score, then ladles it onto a film that is not a typically sumptuous revenge Western about characters' relationships to the land they're battling to claim, but something more like a crisply photographed stage play—think of Tarantino's debut film . Advertisement. By my stopwatch, four- fifths of . Tarantino asked his regular cinematographer, Robert Richardson, to shoot in Ultra Panavision 7.

This is all fairly perverse, but it's these kinds of choices that make Tarantino more special than the filmmakers who dream of being the next Tarantino. The problem isn't how Tarantino tells his story, but the deficiencies in the story itself—or maybe we should put . Talk talk talk talk talk talk kill; talk talk talk talk talk talk kill, and so on, and so on. The N- word is sprinkled throughout; Tarantino loves the slur nearly as much he loves bare feet. But its use in . That's not the case here. The in- depth conversations about the Civil War and capitalism and justice vs. The context of a nasty, brutish time gives the artist permission to be nasty and brutish.

When the violence arrives in . We're just watching a bunch of scorpions in a bucket getting ready to sting each other, then stinging each other—sometimes verbally, sometimes with fists or guns or other weapons: tearing flesh, coating hardwood floors with gore and brains. She doesn't wipe the blood off; this is presented as proof of her indomitability, but it plays like sheer provocation: Oh, I'm a misogynist, am I? Watch me leave the blood on her face, because I can. Like the nonstop barrage of racial slurs, the film's relentless and often comical violence against Daisy never feels truly earned. In a movie filled with selfish, deceptive and murderous characters, hers is the only demise that is not just observed, but celebrated. The pre- intermission showstopper is Warren's account of forcing the general's son to march naked through the snow, then orally raping him before killing him—an atrocity that might or might not have actually happened.

It's so transparently intended as a . The bit where Warren describes his prodigious member to the general is oddly childish. Any pretense of political commentary or historical engagement vanishes, and you're left with a white filmmaker draping himself in a black leading man's mystique, like a kid putting on an Iron Man costume and running around the house telling everyone he can fly. Advertisement. The lyrically brutal . It was also the ultimate examination of role- playing in both life and art—a concern that runs through all of Tarantino's movies, starting with . It absolved the viewer of nothing.

For a movie ostensibly about saving humanity by leaping into a black hole to send physics calculations back in time through your daughter's bookcase, Interstellar's.

It was not a simple entertainment. It was complicated, and every second was deeply felt. It has superb photography, music, set design and performances (particularly by Russell, Goggins, Leigh and Jackson), but no fervor, no framework, no justification for its nonstop insults, provocations and atrocities. It has a bully's mentality. Of course, none of my gripes will matter to hardcore fans, who will wave away objections to the film's methods and messages with, . It's hard to shake the suspicion that, deep down, he believes in nothing but sensation, and that he's spent the last decade or so stridently identifying with oppressed groups so that he can get a gold star for making the kinds of films he'd be making anyway.