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Movie Review: “The Hateful Eight”

Love him or hate him, Quentin Tarantino is an exceedingly talented filmmaker. And even though I hold the unpopular opinion that Tarantino peaked with “Pulp Fiction,” and that “Inglourious Basterds” and “Django Unchained” were exercises in overindulgence, it’s impossible to deny that all his work has an inimitable postmodern flair. “The Hateful Eight” applies that flair to the Western genre, resulting in a final product that departs from Tarantino’s recent approaches and successfully evokes the director’s heyday.

(I was lucky enough to snag a showing of the 70mm “roadshow” version – featuring an old-school overture and intermission – and would highly recommend doing likewise.)

For a Tarantino film, “The Hateful Eight” has an uncharacteristically linear plot: bounty hunters Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson) and John Ruth (Kurt Russell) find themselves escorting captured desperado Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh) to the nearest town to face justice. When a blizzard descends on their stagecoach, they must take shelter in a remote haberdashery along with a colorful cast of other wayfarers. It soon becomes clear, however, that some of the travelers may have violent intentions.

In its claustrophobic setting and ruthlessly linear plot, “The Hateful Eight” evokes none of Tarantino’s movies as strongly as “Reservoir Dogs.” Here, there’s the same combination of knife-edge tension (that inevitably erupts into grisly violence) and effortlessly dynamic clash between characters. Where “Django” and “Basterds” seemed to lose focus partway through, drifting through a series of larger-scale set pieces, the severely restricted setting of “Eight” works to the film’s great credit: every scene crackles with hair-raising intensity. Coupling this ambiance with a dash of narrative nonlinearity (a la “Pulp Fiction”) results in a fusion that feels both classic and fresh.

Tarantino is very, very good at two things – dialogue and carnage – and both of those are on full display here. Whereas “Basterds” and “Django” drew their narrative energy from adrenaline-charged genre tropes (revenge against Nazis and revenge against slavers, respectively), “Eight” is a much slower burn that relies on character interactions to propel its plot. One of Tarantino’s great strengths is his ability to instantly create memorable characters who transcend their settings, and “Eight” demonstrates that proficiency to great effect. (And yes, for those who view Tarantino films to see such things, there’s tons of bloodshed once the guns come out). As an aside: Ennio Morricone’s score (the first soundtrack the composer has done for a Western in several decades) is a major highlight, and probably the best score I’ve heard in months.

“Eight,” like most of Tarantino’s movies, is about half an hour too long. It’s never dull, but it’s exceedingly deliberate in its pacing (which some viewers will no doubt find off-putting) – I found myself often thinking how well it would translate into a stage play. There’s also one groaner of a plot choice (unfortunately present in many other “whodunit”-type stories) that detracts from the cleverly crafted narrative…though this is a small gripe. And it almost doesn’t warrant mention, given the director’s notoriety, but this is by no means a film for all ages (there’s lots of violence, profanity, gratuitous use of racist language by villainous characters, etc.).

“The Hateful Eight” will probably polarize Tarantino fans. Stylistically, it’s a throwback to an earlier mode of storytelling, and departs from the sprawling “epic” approach seen in the director’s more recent movies. As someone underwhelmed by Tarantino’s last two films, I found “Eight” a highly satisfying change-up…but not all will agree.

VERDICT: 8/10
A lushly filmed, welcome return to form for Tarantino.

Normalized Score: 5.8

 
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Posted by on January 7, 2016 in Historical

 

Movie Review: “Concussion”

For many today, the observation that “football causes concussions” is such an intuitive proposition that it borders on the redundant. The precise link between professional football and severe neurological damage, however, hadn’t been identified until recently – via a controversial series of events that sparked multimillion-dollar litigation.

Inspired by an outstanding GQ article, “Concussion” recounts the story of Dr. Bennet Omalu’s discovery of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), an neurodegenerative condition found in NFL players as a result of repeated blows to the head. Notably, CTE cannot be diagnosed via a standard MRI or CT scan, but requires actual samples of brain tissue in order for pathologists to detect the buildup of toxic substances. Naturally, Omalu’s theory – suggesting that football is an inherently hazardous activity – instantly places him at odds with the powerful NFL corporation, which does everything in its power to bury Omalu’s findings.

The greatest strength of “Concussion” is its outstanding cast. Will Smith turns in an exceptional starring performance as Omalu (his Nigerian accent is remarkable). Similarly, Alec Baldwin, playing against type as a retired NFL team doctor who assists Omalu, turns in a strong supporting performance.

That said, “Concussion” can’t quite decide whether it wants to be a biopic (a la “A Beautiful Mind”) or a historical/cultural thriller (a la “Spotlight”). The first half of the film meanders through Omalu’s initial discovery of the CTE phenomenon, drifting periodically into an unnecessary romantic subplot, before the NFL starts pushing back and things kick into high gear. Where the primary thrust of the story – the concussion scandal – is concerned, at least 45 minutes (and probably closer to 60) could’ve be trimmed altogether.

Perhaps the movie’s most unfortunate flaw, however, is its persistent unwillingness to embrace the nitty-gritty details of its own narrative. The camera cuts away from depicting any of Omalu’s actual autopsies. The movie embraces mushy “sciencey” vocabulary over actual medical terminology. Characters gloss over the legal and journalistic sparring surrounding Omalu’s research. The really uncomfortable question at the core of the story – whether the NFL’s millions of rabid fans, who crave ever more action and brutality in the game, are morally complicit in the deaths of players – isn’t probed. Audiences aren’t as dumb as the producers of “Concussion” appear to believe (the highly technical “Moneyball” and various Christopher Nolan movies have minted money at the box office), and the story of Omalu’s work is incredibly interesting (not to mention culturally topical, morally murky, and intellectually challenging). In prioritizing maximum accessibility over Sorkinesque panache, “Concussion” renders itself more forgettable than provocative.

(As an aside, “Concussion” offers no affirmative proposals for reform or alternatives to the current football dynamic. The film is a message movie through and through, but isn’t bold enough to say anything more interesting than “football is dangerous.”)

In short, “Concussion” is worth waiting to see on Netflix or Redbox (if only for Will Smith’s performance) but represents a significant missed opportunity to tell its disquieting story. Against other awards-season fare like “Spotlight,” “Concussion” can’t measure up.

VERDICT: 6/10
A frustratingly uneven film that doesn’t quite deliver on its fascinating premise.

Normalized Score: 1.6

 
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Posted by on December 31, 2015 in Contemporary