t knows something went wrong. Chunked transfer encoding is only slightly more complex – the server will send the response in chunks, each chunks prefixed by the length of the chunk. The end of the document is marked by a zero-length chunk. So if the user-agent saw a chunk cut in the middle, or didn’t receive a zero-length chunk, it also knows something went wrong and has a chance to decide what to do about it. For example, when faced with incorrect content length, Chrome displays an ERR_CONNECTION_CLOSED error, whereas Firefox would display the portion of the page it did receive. Different behaviour, yes, but at least both user-agents in this example had a chance realize the response they received is partial. Which is really, really important, you know why? I’ll tell you why.
Enter caching. HTTP caching is a non-trivial matter with many unexpected gotchas and pitfalls, and I can’t cover it all here (why the complexity? I think it’s because all caching is an intentional form of data/state repetition, and repetition is something that in my experience humans often have difficulty reasoning about). By far the best document I know about HTTP caching is this splendid guide, but if you’re in a hurry or impatient, let me summarize the points interesting for this particular post. First, caches might exist in many places, some of them might be surprising, some of them might be slightly broken or at least very aggressive (ISP transparent caches, mutter mutter cough cough). Second, among many other things, HTTP caching lets a server give a client a token together resource, telling the client “next time you request this resource, tell me you have this token; maybe I’ll just tell you that the representation you got with this token is still fresh, without transferring it all over again”. This is called an ETag, and the response that says “just use what you have in your cache” is called HTTP 304 NOT MODIFIED.
Bottom line is, it’s really important to know when a representation of a resource is broken. Which is why I was quite amazed to learn that my HTTP server of choice, nginx, doesn’t validate the Content-Length it receives from its upstreams and is simply unaware when the response it received from an upstream server is chopped off. If your response specifies a content length but closes the connection without delivering enough bytes, nginx will simply stall the request for a long time without closing the connection downstream, even though it has no hope of receiving additional data to push downstream. I tried this both with proxy_pass and uwsgi_pass, but I’m quite confident it’s true for other backends (fastcgi_pass, scgi_pass, etc). This is bad, but not as bad as the case where you want an nginx module to manipulate your content, removing existing content length/transfer encoding and applying its own (the gzip module indeed does that). If a backend error occurs while content-length-oblivious-nginx is altering the data, the content altering module will apply what it applies to the bytes it received, add new content-length/transfer-encoding, assuring everyone the response is OK, and entice user-agents or even proxies to enter the almost-never-recover bad cache scenario I described in the previews paragraph. Ouch!
The proper way to fix this, IMHO, is that nginx simply must start looking at the upstream’s content length (or transfer encoding, once nginx starts using chunked responses with its upstreams). Part of the reason I’m writing this post is that Maxim Dounin, venerable nginx comitter and an OK chap overall, told me he doesn’t consider this a top priority at the moment, but I humbly disagree with his assessment of how serious the issue is. Until such a time as nginx is fixed about this, I think you must disable all content-manipulating nginx modules and instead handle all message length affecting work in your upstream (compression, addition, etc). This is what I opted to do with my django based web app, I replaced nginx’s gzip module with Django’s GZipMiddleware. It’s a terrible shame though. It’s doing the job of nginx for it, prob