Daisy's Got A Secret
- Kathryn
- Jan 12, 2016
- 2 min read

Jack and I started watching Quentin Tarantino movies together more than a year ago. It's always been a special thing between us. And so today, for my twenty-third birthday, Jack surprised me with tickets to The Hateful Eight, Tarantino's eighth and most recent film.
And the film was very good. It clocks in at a little over three hours and sets itself up to feel like the lovechild of True Grit and Clue. It's a slow build that plays out very much like a stage production, doling out information and clue after clue to the audience while carefully positioning each character for the big twist. From there on the murder mystery plays out to its natural conclusion. It cherishes each moment. The audience sees lovely shots of snow and amber light, each man's knowing and wary eye. At the end the absolutely glorious, gratuitous violence swoops in and steals the show, feeling very much like a complement to the script rather than an eclipse of it.
It's my birthday today, as I've mentioned. Jack and I woke up early to go to the diner by our home and have pancakes at 5:00 AM sharp, and sharp it was: the January cold has one hell of a bite. I've gotten dozens of thoughtful Facebook messages, Stephen King's The Bazaar of Bad Dreams, a little plastic doll of Allison Reynolds from The Breakfast Club to sit by my stack of notebooks and judge me for how many novels I've been trying to work on at once, a lavender journal, and more notebooks to add to my stack of notebooks.
It's been a good day. I forgot to take my medication at a timely hour, but still. It's been a good day.
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