I’m betting there are some deep meanings to be found in Tarantino’s latest film. I’m sure those who are more familiar with messages and metaphors infused into cinematic experiences can explain how the plot–that, if you’ve seen any of Tarantino’s other movies, you’ll recognize–of lying and killing is actually a grand statement on something.
But I can say, after having given 3 hours of my life to the experiment, that I don’t care if the film was projected slide by slide by tiny kittens–it was too long. And the storyline (again, this is coming from someone who watches movies only with the goal of being entertained and not to elaborate on the symbolism of what’s being said in the silences) was thin at best.
It didn’t help the situation to be crammed into non-stadium seats that felt airplane-sized behind a man who kept violently sneezing and throwing his chair back into my knees and in front of adults who were reenacting their childhood of repeatedly kicking the seats in front of them as if they were in a crude remake of Speed where the theater would explode if they ceased kicking for more than 7 seconds.
The one nice thing was that the line for the men’s restroom at intermission was 28X longer–actual stat!–than the women’s.
Which is what you get when you go to see a movie that is 76% just a chance for the special effects team to show off the new fake blood they got for Christmas.