Academy Award-winning screenwriter Quentin Tarantino returns with his most infamous, most brilliant, most masterful screenplay yet?Ķ At the end of the Civil War, a stagecoach hurtles through the wintry Wyoming landscape. Bounty hunter John Ruth and his fugitive captive Daisy Domergue race toward the town of Red Rock, where Ruth will bring Domergue to justice. Along the road, they encounter Major Marquis Warren, a former Union soldier turned infamous bounty hunter; and Chris Mannix, a renegade who claims to be the town's new sheriff. Lost in a blizzard, Ruth, Domergue, Warren, and Mannix seek refuge at Minnie's Haberdashery, a stagecoach stopover. When they arrive, they are greeted by four unfamiliar faces: Bob, who takes care of Minnie's in the owner's absence; Oswaldo Mobray, the hangman of Red Rock; cow-puncher Joe Gage; and Confederate general Sanford Smithers. As the storm overtakes the mountainside, our eight travelers come to learn they may not make it to Red Rock after all ... The Hateful Eight is a Tarantino master class in tension-filled atmosphere, singular characters, and razor-sharp dialogue.
Release date:
December 22, 2015
Publisher:
Grand Central Publishing
Print pages:
170
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A breathtaking 70MM filmed (as is the whole movie) snow covered mountain range.
A staggering opening vista, set to appropriately nerve jangling music.
Then, in the bottom left of this big 70MM SUPER CINEMASCOPE FRAME, we see a STAGECOACH being pulled by a team of SIX HORSES rip snorting through the bottom of the landscape.
Setting is an undetermined time, six or eight or twelve years after the Civil War.
CUT TO
EXT—STAGECOACH (MOVING)—SNOWY DAY
Now, still in big super CINEMASCOPE 70MM filmed gloriousness, we follow along with the lone STAGECOACH DRIVER fighting and guiding these six horses to shelter.
We follow alongside the HORSES, working our way from the back horse in mid-stride, to the tip of the lead horse’s nose.
We follow along the twelve horse hooves as they tear up and spit out snow and dirt.
We take the DRIVER’S POV down the hurtling six horse team.
We follow along the big stagecoach WAGON WHEEL, then up to the stagecoach door WINDOW (complete with curtains). Which beyond we can make out the figures of a MAN and a WOMAN sitting side by side.
70MM CU of The STAGECOACH DRIVER O.B. (pronounced Obie) as he whips the horses forward, keeps the wheels on the road, and avoids the rocks.
Then….…
.… he sees something up ahead.
He pulls back on the reins.
CU HORSE MOUTH
as reins are pulled back.
Their HOOVES
slowing in the snow.
O.B.
still fighting the reins.
The HORSES
still trying to stop their vigorous glide. Snorting and coughing HOT BREATH, the horses finally settle to a stop.
O.B.
calms the halted horses, as he looks straight ahead and down at the impediment to his vehicle’s progress.
O.B.’s POV:
What O.B. sees on the road is a BLACK MAN in the middle of it, sitting on a nice leather saddle, laid on top of THREE FROZEN DEAD WHITE MEN, smoking a pipe (the black man, not the three dead white guys).
The BLACK MAN
removes the pipe from his mouth and says to the man behind the six snorting horses;
BLACK MAN
Got room for one more?
O.B.
looks at the black man sitting on the three dead white men in the middle of the road, smoking a pipe, amongst falling snowflakes, and says;
O.B.
Who the hell are you, and what happened to them?
The BLACK MAN is an older man. A sly LEE VAN CLEEF type with a bald pate, silver hair on the sides, a distinguished mustache, and a tall slim frame. He wears the dark blue uniform pants of the U.S. CAVALRY, with the yellow stripe down the side of the pant leg, tucked into black regulation Cavalry riding boots. His shirt and undergarments are non-regulation and worn for comfort, style, and warmth, including a long charcoal grey wool scarf. But his dark heavy winter coat is his OFFICER WINTER COAT from the U.S. Cavalry, with the officer insignias ripped off.
On top of his bald pate he wears a supercool non-regulation COWBOY HAT he picked up sometime after the war.
The NORTHERN OFFICER says;
MAJOR MARQUIS WARREN
Name’s Major Marquis Warren former U.S. Cavalry. Currently I’m a servant of the court.
The northern Officer stands up from his saddle perch on the three frozen dead white men.
MAJOR MARQUIS WARREN (CON’T)
These are a coupla’ no-goods I’m bringin’ into market. I got the paperwork on ’em in my pocket.
O.B.
You takin’ ’em into Red Rock?
MAJ.WARREN
I figure that’s where you goin’, right?
We see a terrible BLIZZARD kicking up in the BACKGROUND. The stagecoach has obviously been trying to beat it to shelter.
O.B.
That damblasted blizzard’s been on our ass for the last three hours. Ain’t no way we gonna’ make it all the way to Red Rock ’fore it catches us.
MAJ.WARREN
So ya’ hightailin’ it halfway to Minnie’s Haberdashery?
O.B.
You know I am.
MAJ.WARREN
May I come aboard?
O.B.
Well smoke, it up to me, yes. But it ain’t up to me.
MAJ.WARREN
Who’s it up to?
O.B.
Fella’ in the wagon.
MAJ.WARREN
Fella’ in the wagon not partial to company?
O.B.
This ain’t the regular line. The fella’ in the wagon paid for a private trip. And I’m here to tell ya’ he paid a pretty penny for privacy. So if you wanna’ go to Minnie’s with us..… you gotta’ talk to him.
MAJ.WARREN
Well I suppose I’ll do that.
MAJOR MARQUIS WARREN starts to walk around to the stagecoach door, when a rifle barrel comes out of the window pointing at the former Cavalry Officer.
We hear a HAMMER CLICK.
The VOICE BEHIND THE RIFLE yells out;
VOICE BEHIND THE RIFLE (OS)
Hold it black fella’!
Marquis Warren stops.
VOICE BEHIND THE RIFLE (OS) (CON’T)
’Fore you approach, you take them two guns of yours and lay ’em on that rock over yonder. Then you raise both your hands way above your hat. Then you come forward.… molasses-like.
Maj.Warren looks up at O.B. and says;
MAJ.WARREN
(to O.B.)
Real trustin’ fella’, huh?
O.B.
(to Maj.Warren)
Not so much.
Maj.Warren walks over to the rock that the voice behind the rifle chose as a good place for Marquis to relieve himself of his weapons.
He places two revolvers hanging on his hip on said rock.
Then raising his hands above his hat, he slowly approaches the stagecoach.
We see a bit of a face and a hat in the dark beyond the window frame in the stagecoach door.
The voice behind the rifle snaps;
VOICE BEHIND THE RIFLE (OS)
That’s far enough!
The Major stops.
The rifle barrel is taken inside the window…
Then.…
.… the fella’ in the wagon KICKS OPEN the stagecoach door so Maj.Warren can see inside.
The FELLA’ IN THE WAGON is a rough looking white man lawman type, with a drop dead black hat and a walrus like mustache above his top lip.
He one arms a rifle in Maj.Warren’s direction.
The other arm is handcuffed to the wrist of.…
The FEMALE PASSENGER/PRISONER in the stagecoach with him.
She sits across from him, her wrist cuffed to his wrist, his cuffed hand holding a pistol, the pistol pointed at her belly.
This once pretty WHITE LADY (maybe before the trip, maybe years ago) wears a once pretty dress, and a once sexy smirk under a man’s heavy winter coat. Her face is a collection of cuts, bruises, and scrapes. As if during this trip with The Walrus Mustache Man. she took a few punches and falls.
The WALRUS MUSTACHE MAN says;
THE WALRUS MUSTACHE MAN
Well I’ll be dogged, you a black fella’ I know. Col. Something Warren, right?
MAJ.WARREN
Major Marquis Warren. I remember you too. We shared a steak dinner in Chattanooga once upon a time. You John Ruth, The Hangman.
JOHN RUTH
That be me.
(beat)
How long’s that been?
MAJ.WARREN
Since that steak? Eight months.
JOHN RUTH
So why don’t you explain to me what a African bounty hunter’s doin’ wandering ’round in the snow in the middle of Wyoming?
MAJ.WARREN
I’m tryin’ to get a couple a bounty’s to Red Rock.
JOHN RUTH
So you still in business?
MAJ.WARREN
You know I am.
JOHN RUTH
What happened to your horse?
MAJ.WARREN
Circumstances forced us to take the long way around. My horse couldn’t make it.
JOHN RUTH
You don’t know nothin’ about this filly here?
Motioning towards the woman with the barrel of his pistol.
MAJ.WARREN
Nope.
JOHN RUTH
Don’t even know her name?
MAJ.WARREN
Nope.
JOHN RUTH
Well I guess that makes this one fortuitous wagon.
MAJ.WARREN
I sure as hell hope so.
John Ruth makes the introductions;
JOHN RUTH
Major Marquis Warren, this here is Daisy Domergue. Domergue, to you, this is Maj.Warren.
While keeping his hands raised, Maj.Warren touches the brim of his hat and nods slightly in her direction.
DAISY DOMERGUE (pronounced DAHMER-GOO) gives Maj.Warren an open handed wave with her free hand and says with a smile;
DOMERGUE
Howdy nigger!
That makes John Ruth chuckle and Maj.Warren frown.
JOHN RUTH
(to Maj.Warren)
She’s a pepper, ain’t she?
(to Domergue)
Now girl, don’t you know darkee’s don’t like bein’ called niggers no more. They find it offensive.
DOMERGUE
I been called worse.
JOHN RUTH
Now that I can believe.
(to Maj.Warren)
Heard of her?
MAJ.WARREN
Should I?
JOHN RUTH
Well she ain’t no John Wilkes Booth. But maybe you might of heard tell ’bout the price on her head.
MAJ.WARREN
How much?
JOHN RUTH
Ten thousand dollars.
MAJ.WARREN
Damn, what she do? Kill Lillie Langtry?
JOHN RUTH
Not quite. Now that ten thousand’s practically in my pocket. It’s why I ain’t too anxious to be handin’ out RIDES. Especially to professionals open for business.
MAJ.WARREN
Well I sure can appreciate that. Only I ain’t got no designs on ’er. One of my fella’s is worth four thousand, one’s worth three thousand, and one’s worth one. That’s damn sure good enough for me.
JOHN RUTH
(meaning the three dead white guys)
Who are them fellas?
MAJ.WARREN
Warren Vanders, Homer Van Hootin, and Rebel Roy McCrackin.
JOHN RUTH
Let me see their paperwork. Like I said, molasses-like.
Maj.Warren slowly removes the handbills from his winter coat pocket.
John Ruth lowers his rifle from Maj.Warren’s chest, and t. . .
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