By James Mandell

Great-lookin’ trailer, ain’t it, along with all them thar Golden Globe nominations? Lisa and I found ourselves at the glittery Cinerama Dome premier for this flick, and Harvey Weinstein himself took the podium to introduce the director, telling the story of QT’s impassioned pitch to them, which included his insistence on filming this old western in 70mm Panavision. Which meant tasking the Bros Weinstein with finding, refurbishing and re-installing 100 old 70mm Panavision projectors in theaters across the country, to properly screen and appreciate this watershed event!

They then introduced QT, who bounded up and gave the evening’s most spirited performance, screaming profanity-laden WWF-style introductions of all Eight as they made their way to the stage. Crazy, uninhibited fun… and then the movie started.

Tarantino’s vision included recreating the experience of the old 50’s and 60’s road shows, so the film starts with a static slide of a stage coach, while the Ennio Morricone (sic: authentic) score plays for three minutes under half house lights, which dimmed 30 seconds before the fade-in. As the super-sized reels roll, we find our stars in and around a stagecoach, racing towards a rest outpost, barely in front of a ferocious winter blizzard chasing them from behind. And we stay with that stagecoach and its passengers for the next hour or so, as Mr. Tarantino treats us to a litany of repetitive, banal, misogyny-tinged pablum that finally lands at the lodge where the rest of the movie will take place.  If you can manage to stay awake that long. Clocking in at three hrs and two minutes plus a 12-minute intermission, you may find yourself wishing you’d stayed home and done your taxes early for once.

OK, I’m not big on horrifying violence, but QT’s the guy who gave us comic-book style shoot-outs and outrageously entertaining behavior. Pulp Fiction, Inglourious Basterds, Django Unchained–loved ‘em! Unfortunately, the only semblance here is in the repeated use of his cast members, Samuel L Jackson, Tim Roth, Demian Bichar, all playing the same characters with different stage names. A lost-his-mojo Kurt Russell joins them and Jennifer Jason Lee may get a makeup award for gore.

During the intermission, I saw Harvey leaning against the concession stand alone, while a few hundred whispering insiders milled quietly around, trying to figure out how not to say anything negative to anyone possibly important. The story plays out in the lodge for the rest of the movie and yes, for those who crave it, the gore that finally ensues is plentiful. But it’s far too late, as if Tarantino wrote it the whole thing in a drug haze, improvising out loud to a dozen sycophants, who then got someone to transcribe his iPhone-recorded rave and delivered it to welcoming arms the next day. How could it not be magic, right?

So what was once shockingly entertaining is now old retread. And the Panavision thing? For a movie that’s 90% inside a stagecoach and a log cabin? Even Morricone’s score, all five minutes of it, is tired and utterly dated, as if he was half-Nelsoned into doing it because he really needed the money.

Ugh, what a night. We left out the side door and ducked the after-party. What do you say to the makers and the stars after a three-hour dirge? Marketing-wise, it’ll be interesting to see how well this one does in virtual simultaneous release against Mr. Lucas’ new offering. Will Star Wars lift the box office or overwhelm it (and this just in: The Cinerama Dome booted its H8 booking in favor of using it as another Star Wars screen)?

While Tarantino may have defined his genre, this particular chapter’s bloody awful.

Rated R

2 Hours 47 Minutes + 12 minute intermission

Get times and tickets at Fandango.com.

See more of James’ reviews at The 2015 Guys Guide to the Movies

THE HATEFUL EIGHT Review — Hatefully Yours, Q.T.