...and appall yourself at how he’s now entered into the ranks of directors the kids can’t remember not being around. Middle age hasn’t shaved off a single one of his edges, though, and his new film is probably his most pessimistic and goriest, which is saying something. Eight ne’er-do-wells are snowed in in post-Civil War Wyoming, and what follows is a strange blend of Sergio Leone and Agatha Christie, which is tough to summarise without spoiling. Lines touching on contemporary racial issues in the US leave no doubt about Tarantino’s fury at how little progress there’s been in 150 years, but they’re swamped in endless and over-wordy monologues that can at times test the patience. He’s one of the greats, to be sure, but few artists have been more in need of an editor.
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