For most of my life, I’ve been an absolute movie glut. In the near-decade I’ve been here, I’ve seen almost every release that made its way to Chattanooga, from European art-house dramas to Michael Bay’s parade of no-brains-required special-effects orgies.
These days, having a baby has made opportunities to get to the theater a pretty rare commodity, but even were my wife and I to stumble across a free evening, I’d hesitate to queue up for Quentin Tarantino’s “The Hateful Eight.”
Casey PhillipsThe Knoxville-born director’s three-hour Western is supposed to be wonderful. It’s been nominated for three Academy Awards this year, including Supporting Actress, Cinematography and ironically – as we’ll soon see – Original Music Score.
On the surface, I should be as in love with it as I am with his other projects such as “Inglourious Basterds” and “Django Unchained.” Judging by the trailer, it hits all the right notes, from the setting and costumes to Tarantino’s trademark mix of stylish violence and blackly humorous dialogue.
But I can’t get past a moment in the teaser just shy of the two-minute mark when Kurt Russell snatches a guitar from Jennifer Jason Leigh and swings it into a pole. Thanks to that split-second scene, I don’t think I’d survive to the credits.