On a thematic and narrative level, The Hateful Eight is easily Quentin Tarantino’s most mature film since Jackie Brown. It has absolutely superb performances, excellent cinematography and excellent dialogue – all Tarantino standards. It’s also his most cynical and political film to date, a dark take on modern American racial and gendered disharmony, and certainly a far better work than the childish bluntness of Django Unchained. However, it. Is. Too. Damn. Long. Few other directors are as churlish and precious about editing their work as Tarantino is, and it’s been the bane of his films since day one. There is no reason whatsoever for The Hateful Eight to be nearly three hours long, and despite its maturity in the context of Tarantino’s overall work, it is still a somewhat confused film at heart because of that very same length. The thematic content doesn’t add up to any gut punch in the end, merely just a series of deaths with lots of splatter but no oomph. It’s still a good film, but as so often with Tarantino, a whisker away from genuine greatness.