So I got a nipple hardon the second I read there was going to be a true once-in-a-lifetime Hollywood event this past Saturday: a staged reading of Quentin’s new script, The Hateful Eight. I really wanted to attend, but because it was a Holiday weekend and my all of my friends were either out of town, on shoots or simply not game enough to shell out the big bucks (face-value tickets were $100-$200, and going for $8000 on eBay), I skipped it. Sure, I could have gone by myself, but I have an aversion to attending movies, events and ballgames by myself. They’re all better attended communally, or so I thought; from all accounts, I should have sucked it up and gone solo.
What made the reading extra special was that the script was considered gone forever after one of Quentin’s friends leaked it online and Quentin decided to punish us all by vowing to never let it see the big screen. But he must have softened recently (sorta – he’s going to court over it in January), deciding to work on a new draft and have it read live to an audience who promised to leave their cell phones in their cars.
The cast included Bruce Dern, Samuel L. Jackson and Kurt Russell, who read the leading role of The Hangman. One by one, each character was violently killed off as the audience cheered on with fervor – they were hateful, after all – and Quentin, dressed in a Stetson and cowboy boots, served as both narrator and harsh director, stopping the cast at times and scolding them for improvising and drifting away from his script.
From all the articles I’ve read, the script was excellent, Quentin said he was going to write a third draft, and The Weinstein brothers, who’ve produced all of his films, were in attendance. All signs point to this movie being made, and that’s a very good thing. I’ll be there with Kevlar on.
