Or to put it another way, me and Tarantino are about as tight as one of the director's babbling screenplays.
Where we've gotten on okay, he's tended to put most of you offside (Jackie Brown, Death Proof), so I guess critical opinion and I are going to have to agree to disagree.
But I'm a completist, so I endure... I endured three hours of gratuitous, anachronistic frontier jive-talking and '60s western pastiche. I endured it into the early hours on a school night just so I could experience it in 70mm.
Still no.
In my antagonistic opinion, I'd be thrusting this one down the bottom of Tarantino's pile. Two hours of exposition intercut with barely-snappy small talk, then one hour of Grand Guignol interspersed with more exposition (in voice over for some reason).
No.
And do we need to talk about Jennifer Jason Leigh? An admirably committed performance marred by a screenplay that fails to draw any comment out of the extremely misogynistic violence. And papering over it with some pseudo sadomasochism only adds insult to the considerable injuries.
By film's end I don't know what was more tired, me or Tarantino's schtick.
Just no.
Have at me.
★★☆
Trailer:
No comments:
Post a Comment