Classic Tarantino: yakkety-yakking murderers and slapstick gore. Tarantino’s style has always been a kind of fetish-ized 1970s cinema; part grindhouse, part blaxploitation, and in order to “justify” the N-word spew-age, he tends to eventually let black men do bad things to white men.
You clean toilets for a living. Imagine getting suddenly transported to a distant planet, shown ancient halls glowing with a thousand candles, and a stone replica of you—carved a million years ago.