QT8: The First Eight Review

At one point during Tara Wood’s chiefly tributary film, QT8: The First Eight, Quentin Tarantino is described, simply, as a romantic. Rampaging through the ears and bucketing past the brain, it’s a trivial duality, pitting the instant and universal characteristics of his work – bloody and foul – against their red-soaked and maniacally-written storylines. You remember that after Django (Jamie Foxx) decimates what’s left of Candy Land, he doesn’t just ride off into the night’s sky, he stares back at the lovely woman he’s liberated, his now-quenched purpose for gunfighting. The shockwaves rage on until you finally realize, “oh wait, that’s actually true.”

As was the case here, this documentary sometimes flourishes as an archive of analytical footage, validating claims with perfectly plucked pieces from his catalogue – mere sentences are occasionally enhanced by a minute moment from a movie. But QT8 is also a frustratingly
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