A Transportive Cinematic Experience
I wasn't around in the heyday of roadshow theatrical releases—those limited presentations of epic films that included an overture, an intermission, and a program—but when viewing Quentin Tarantino's The Hateful Eight projected from 70mm film in an auditorium full of people, I truly felt as though I had gone back to a more glorious era of moviegoing. Filmed on 65mm film using Ultra Panavision 70 lenses, the movie feels like a product of the 1960s or '70s, but Tarantino's talent for wordplay is anything but eclipsed by the visual experience. Though the film opens with a 30 or so minute stretch of confrontations and conversations within and beside a stagecoach, most of the action is confined to Minnie's Haberdashery, a stagecoach lodge where the titular eight disparate figures seek refuge during a blizzard. What follows is a terrific, slow-burn display of mounting tension and violent release that manages to feel like a complete throwback while channeling a unique and modern approach to its characters.
The Hateful Eight finds bounty hunter John Ruth (Kurt Russell) on his way to Red Rock to deliver prisoner Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh) when their stagecoach encounters bounty hunter Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson), and supposed sheriff of Red Rock Chris Mannix (Walton Goggins). They all take refuge at Minnie's, where they are faced with sharing the lodge for the next few days with Bob (Demián Bichir), former Confederate General Sandy Smithers (Bruce Dern), Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth), and Joe Gage (Michael Madsen). As Russell at one point says in a very John Wayne-ian drawl, "One of them fellas is not what he says he is," and so the film becomes a sort of drawing room mystery populated by the kinds of colorful characters only Tarantino writes. Every member of this perfectly cast ensemble has a moment or more to shine. Russell and particularly Jackson get the meatiest roles, though Goggins just about steals the show with the humorously nervous and slimy qualities that he gives Mannix.
All of the action here, though mostly confined to the haberdashery, is presented in that glorious widescreen associated with films like Lawrence of Arabia. Tarantino and cinematographer Robert Richardson capture some beautiful snowy roads and mountaintops, but the epic proportions of the aspect ratio is put to perhaps its best use in this film indoors. Minnie's Haberdashery becomes more than a set with the wide scope of the photography; it's a dwelling with which the audience becomes intimately familiar before long. We see where the bed is, where the liquor is kept, and where the coffee brews on the stove. By the film's end, we know the set so well it's as though it were the set from Cheers that we tuned-in to visit weekly for 11 years. The choice of Ultra Panavision 70 also allows us to often see the characters in the background of different exchanges. Like in a well-staged play, we never lose sight of where everyone is, though our attention is carefully drawn by whichever characters are most compelling from moment to moment.
Though Tarantino is lauded by many in the film community, be they fans or professionals, he is no doubt an acquired taste. His films are known for their stylized violence that some may call gratuitous, though here that explosion of blood and guts feels entirely born from the eight nefarious characters' mounting distrust and hatred of one another. Tarantino's frequent use of the N-word also feels appropriate for this film, not only because of its post-Civil War setting and opposing former soldiers (Jackson and Dern's characters), but also because of the racial tension that dwarfs the dramatic tension in certain scenes. Racial distrust even becomes one of the film's themes, as the characters are asked whether or not trusting Jackson's Major Warren is a question of race or character. The final element of this film some viewers may find troubling is the occasional violence against Daisy Domergue. I'll admit that in early scenes when she gets hit by Russell's John Ruth, it's uncomfortable to watch, but Jennifer Jason Leigh never once plays Daisy as a victim, keeping a duplicitous nature bubbling underneath an often concealing surface. Daisy is one of the key mysteries in the film, as it's a question of exactly why she's such a nefarious criminal, and what danger her life poses to John Ruth when he's sidetracked from his mission of seeing her lawfully hanged.
The Hateful Eight is a rich film from beginning to end, from the beautiful cinematography by Richardson and the moody score by Ennio Morricone to the knockout performances by the entire cast. As with most auteurs, the release of a new film is celebrated as an event, and Quentin Tarantino's works are no different. He continues to be a singular voice in his reinterpretation of cinematic style and tropes into new and fresh films, and with The Hateful Eight, he delivers a moviegoing experience that wholly transports its audience in a way few films can.
A Note on the Roadshow: I was lucky enough to see the film presented in its roadshow form, which entails projection from 70mm film, an overture of Morricone's score, an intermission in the middle of the film, and a printed program (included in the price of admission) that details the film's conception and production. From what I've read, the roadshow cut is also a bit longer (just over three hours long, including the intermission and overture). Though the overture, intermission, and program are all icing on the cinematic cake of The Hateful Eight, the real treat is seeing the 70mm print projected from real film. There's a richness of the colors and that unpredictable quality of softness and grain that gives the film a distinctly classic look. Frankly, if shown only the opening titles, you might guess this was a film made 40 or 50 years go, because the texture of the image (particularly the slight softness at the edges of the typeface) so perfectly matches the style of that era. In short, see The Hateful Eight in it's roadshow form if possible; it's exactly how Tarantino would want you to experience it.