While still getting not so bad aggregate scores on the likes of
Metacritic, I have read enough mainstream critics' poor reviews of Tarantino's
Hateful Eight to consider that they are (finally) really starting to turn against him and his oeuvre. For example,
Anthony Lane ends on this note:
Above all, we get confirmation of the director’s preëminent perversity:
patient and elaborate in his racking up of tension, he knows only one
way to resolve it, and that is through carnage, displayed in unmerciful
detail.To be fair, the more blood is spilled, the more some people lap it up;
the audience at my screening howled with glee as Daisy’s face was
showered with the contents of someone else’s head. Chacun à son goût.
By the end of “The Hateful Eight,” its status as a tale of mystery and
its deference to classic Westerns have all but disappeared, worn down by
the grind of its sadistic vision. That is the Tarantino deal: by
blowing out folks’ brains, he wants to blow our minds.
David Edelstein:
You wonder what he has up his sleeve in The Hateful Eight, but gorgeous
as that sleeve might be, what’s up it is crap. The movie is a lot of
gore over a lot of nothing.
Dana Stevens in Slate:
What is Quentin Tarantino’s game these days? Who is he making movies
for? Is it only my fun-hating prudishness that makes me regard this
historical-revenge-fantasy bender he’s been on since Inglourious Basterds as ineffably evil?
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