Leaving The Hateful Eight tonight, a woman who had also stayed through the closing credits says to me, “And they say that was about the futility of war.” Where did she get that? my lazy brain thinks, refusing to make any grand interpretation of a film with exploding heads, a toothless bloody-faced female lead and more instances of the N-word than I’ve probably heard in my entire life. “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” I say in return. “What?” she winces at me, less from not hearing me and more with an officious incredulity communicating that she wasn’t willing to accept that I didn’t find her quasi-analysis witty. “I said ‘I GUESS THAT’S ONE WAY TO LOOK AT IT!!'” in my loudest possible outside voice, begging a fight with an invitation that echoed around the corner to the popcorn seasoning stand.