An Inglorious Basterd of a movie

I went to see Quentin Tarantino's new film Inglorious Basterds on Friday and I was supremely disappointed--also consider that my expectations for the film were not particularly high.

Admittedly, I haven't been enormously impressed by Tarantino's recent work. While I thought Kill Bill 2 was a surprisingly moving and dynamic action film, I wasn't equally moved by Kill Bill 1, which I thought was too self-consciously derivative.

Unfortunately, I think Inglorious Basterds succinctly demonstrates the shortcomings increasingly inherent in Quentin Tarantino's homage-centric, spaghetti western appropriating, narrative fragmenting, cartoonishly violent approach.

The Good

Brad Pitt: As the implacable Lt. Aldo Raine, Pitt is a comedic revelation.

The look: As with other Tarantino films, I thought Inglorious Basterds was beautifully well-made, occasionally showcasing moments of scintillating visual power. I might even suggest that this film contains Tarantino's most inspired direction since Pulp Fiction.

Supporting cast: Truthfully, all of the performances in this film were at least competent, and some were exceptional, such as Christoph Waltz as 'Jew hunter' Hans Landa.

The Bad

I can't exactly categorize what I thought was wrong with this movie, at least not in multiple sections. Mainly, I thought Quentin Tarantino's trademark chronologically disorganized narratives did not serve this film well. The film's fragmented structure made any attempt to develop characters, or for that matter connect to the characters, virtually impossible. As a result, Inglorious Basterds was little more than a collection of isolated sequences, and although those sequences were at times very interesting, their lack of congruity with the rest of the movie was unbelievably frustrating.

The Ugly

SPOILERS-SPOILERS-SPOILERS-SPOILERS-SPOILERS-SPOILERS-SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!






One aspect of this film that never settled right with me was how brazenly Tarantino altered history. In case you're not aware, Basterds is not a non-fiction film. There was no such group of Jewish American soldiers dropped behind enemy lines in France to conduct guerrilla operations against the Nazis, but that historical transgression was necessary for the movie and I thought even interesting (if only there had been more of it that is).

Later in the film, however, the whole of the Nazi high command, including Hitler, is killed at a movie premier in Paris. For some reason, I couldn't accept the film's essential alternate history conceit. So, I sat in the theater watching the beautifully violent and expressive deaths of Adolph Hitler and other war criminals with my mouth wide open with incredulity, not understanding completely how everyone was so entertained by a half-baked fever dream. Certainly, I felt some level of self-righteous glee at seeing the world's most notorious mass murder exploded with bullets, but I couldn't help but thinking that it was both morally and intellectually dishonest.