Loading ...Movie Review - Inglourious Basterds
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(3 votes, average: 3 out of 4)
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2009 / 153 Minutes / R
By Dale J. Nauertz
In at least one podcast, I speculated that Quentin Tarantino has disappeared up his own ass. This disturbing trend started with “Kill Bill Vol. 2″, a movie I still loved by the way. It was highly entertaining, but while Quentin usually fills his movies with talk, the quality of the talk seemed to be dropping a bit. Though Tarantino’s dialogue largely retained the snap and crackle upon which his reputation was originally built, it seemed that he was too in love with the sound of his own words to excise any of them. This problem worsened in Quentin’s next film: “Death Proof”. While I still enjoyed the film (it’s pretty dull until the last forty-five minutes or so), the crackling Tarantino banter had instead been replaced by endless film fanatic prattle. The things that the characters in “Death Proof” were saying never seemed like anything the characters in “Death Proof” would say, they only sounded like something Quentin Tarantino would say (how many young women do you know who sit around bars discussing obscure pop songs and old movies…I know none). The movie seemed self-involved, self-important and, worst of all, mostly boring.
My biggest fear with “Inglourious Basterds” was that it, too, would fall prey to this lethal chattiness. As even casual Tarantino fans know, this film has been percolating in Quentin’s brain for well over a decade. That’s a long time to come up with dialogue. And since “Death Proof” seemed to illustrate that Quentin is unable (or perhaps just unwilling) to sacrifice a syllable of his precious words, I feared that “Inglourious Basterds” would be filled with even more inane babble about films and pop songs (how he would manage this within the milieu of a World War II adventure film, I didn’t know).
Thankfully, “Inglorious Basterds” finds Quentin emerging from the confines of his own ass and joining the rest of humanity. Welcome back, Quentin. Please stay awhile.
“Inglorious Basterds” is the tale of an elite group of Jewish American soldiers dropped behind enemy lines in Nazi-occupied France who excel at and enjoy brutally killing Nazis. At least, that’s what the trailers would have you believe. Fortunately, that’s only one strand of the remarkable narrative Tarantino weaves here. The film also concerns a young Jewish girl named Shoshanna (a remarkable Melanie Laurent) who alone survived the slaughter of her entire family and now sees an opportunity for revenge when a smitten Nazi war hero (Daniel Bruhl) chooses her movie theater for the premiere of a movie about his war exploits starring him and directed by none other than Hitler’s right-hand man Joseph Goebbels (Sylvester Groth who, according to his imdb fimography, is playing Goebbels for the second time). As entertaining as the brutal bastards are, I found Shoshanna’s portion of the story to be far more fascinating. In fact, it’s the heart of a surprisingly poignant film that only seems heartless on the surface. When Shoshanna learns that the entire Nazi high command will be attending this premiere, she plans to use highly volatile film stock to burn down the theater with every high-ranking German inside (it’s the same plan Zach Galligan and Pheobe Cates used at the end of “Gremlins”, basically).
If you think I’m giving away the entire film, believe me, I’m barely scratching the surface. Tarantino throws all sorts of curve balls at its audience. I always knew he was great at dialogue, but I had almost forgotten what a master of misdirection Quentin is. “Inglorious Bastards” reminded that Tarantino is possibly the most unpredictable filmmaker working today. Reflect back on his films for a moment, back to when you first saw them. None of them progress in the usual Slot A into Tab B plotline…and I’m not just talking about him playing fast and loose with chronological order, I’m talking about, for example, a shootout between two men leading to a sexual assault in the back of a pawn shop. It’s hard to think back on how strange and unexpected that was when one first saw it because “Pulp Fiction” has become such a vital part of our collective film-going DNA, but such out-of-left-field-yet-completely-organic plot developments were a huge component of what made Tarantino such a breath of fresh air in the first place. I didn’t realize how staid and predictable most movies were until I watched “Inglorious Basterds” . The film just throws one audacious, outrageous scenario after another at the audience. It even rewrites history several times in order to hit us with the element of surprise. And I, for one, loved every minute of it.
Aside from the sheer exuberant gusto of the filmmaking, the film is also stocked with great performances from unexpected actors. Tarantino usually finds roles for film geek favorites like Michael Parks and David Carradine in his movies but, aside from Brad Pitt in one those delightfully oddball performances that make him such a welcome sight, “Inglorious Basterds” is filled with faces I hadn’t seen before. As I mentioned earlier, Melanie Laurent is terrific here, providing the film with its wounded and vengeful heart. She has a very engaging and open faces that draws one in and makes them emotionally invested in her situation. But there is also the fine work of Daniel Bruhl, who is both charming and emotionally mysterious as a smitten Nazi war hero. We know his motivations and we see his charming facade, but who is he, really? However, the real standout of this top-drawer cast is Christoph Waltz as Col. Hans Landa. Waltz is fantastic. He’s charming and ruthless, often at the same time, using his charm and cunning to learn information that his interrogation subjects often volunteer without realizing it. He’s a primal force in this film, oozing the sort of common-man evil that Ralph Fiennes did in “Schindler’s List”, except with a bit more grace and charm.
On the downside, the film does run a teensy bit long and there are a few moments and characters that don’t exactly pan out as you hope. However, that plays more as part of the unexpected curve ball factor that I mentioned earlier and though those bits didn’t serve the whole as I thought they would, they were always things that I hadn’t seen in a film before. I loved, for example, that the film sets up the Basterds as a totally bad-ass fighting force and then makes them the only candidates for a mission that would be better served by slick, sophisticated, James-Bond-types. That situation leads to some of the film’s biggest laughs. My only gripes with the film were more gripes with Quentin. For one thing, I wish he would commission an original score rather than simply stealing pieces of Ennio Morricone scores that were used in other films…though, I suppose, if you’re going to steal you may as well steal from the best, and the music he chooses always serves as the perfect undercurrent to each scene. For another, I understand that the phrase “Once Upon a Time in Nazi-Occupied France” is a Sergio Leone homage, but it’s a fairly lame one. Though I must give Quentin credit. Much of the time, “Inglorious Basterds” develops purposefully and methodically, while never growing boring, and provides many gorgeous set pieces. In that way, it DOES feel like Sergio Leone’s “The Dirty Dozen” (although, at the risk of sounding sacrilegious, “Inglorious Basterds” is MUCH better than “The Dirty Dozen” and is more emotionally satisfying than “Kelly’s Heroes”, though I have such a fondness for “Kelly’s Heroes” that I can’t quite say it’s better).
But those are minor grievances, barely worth mentioning. It’s refreshing to see a film that’s all about storytelling, fine acting, crackling dialogue and practical special effects in an era of CGI and incoherently staged action sequences. The audacious bravado with which Tarantino crafts this clever and extraordinary film is more exhilerating than a dozen Michael Bay or Roland Emmerich movies, and it’s more than enough to smooth over the few rough patches. This is good, old-fashioned, confident storytelling full of emotion and surprises, one that I cannot recommend too highly. After a summer of brain-dead spectacle, “Inglorious Basterds” is a welcome relief.
August 28th, 2009 at 1:41 pm
“Inglourious Basterds” truly is a thing of beauty, and I think it might be one of Tarantino’s best. The “Spaghetti Western with a World War II setting” approach just works in every single way, and the film’s a shitload of fun (and its ending is made up of all the best kinds of escapism) while still having a symphony of serious notes that ring true. The film’s opening scene (the first of maybe a dozen, altogether; it’s a rather long film comprised of fewer scenes than I think any film I’ve ever seen) may be the best I’ve ever seen in a war film, and maybe one of the best scenes I’ve ever seen at ALL. When the farmer starts to cry, I was on the verge of losing it. Just thinking about it now makes me want to cry. Never, even in some of the most prized movies about the Holocaust (or various Anne Frank-inspired instances), have I been as stirred by the horror of the situation on display in this scene as I was in Inglourious Basterds. I think that dairy farmer, played by Denis Menochet, deserves a supporting actor nod, even if it was just a single scene (though it was a very long one, as I mentioned earlier of the film’s scenes).
I, for one, was not a fan in any way of “Death Proof.” To me, it seemed the ultimate wank-job, a film far, FAR too up its own ass. It’s a resounding example of being too pleased with your own work, and in this case, its dialogue. Tarantino was simply obsessively proud of his dialogue in “Death Proof,” to the point that he forgot why his dialogue was so great in the first place. It wasn’t great just because it sounded like a normal conversation, it was great because it sounded like a normal conversation AND established characters and plots (and, most importantly, intrigue). Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega’s conversation about foot massages in “Pulp Fiction” was a pretty normal- and inane-sounding conversation about foot massages, but what it REALLY is is a conversation about Marsellus Wallace’s extreme jealousy and protectiveness of his wife, something which will soon be extremely relevant to Vincent Vega. In “Death Proof,” it’s just characters talking endlessly (seriously, the conversation I’m about to talk about here goes on for, no shit, ten fucking minutes) about finding some pot to buy. I could reproduce such a conversation by hanging out with virtually any random pairing of my friends; I don’t need to pay ten dollars to do so. Especially if they’re going spend those ten dollars on pot.
My concern was that, while “Death Proof” was obnoxiously and unentertainingly self-indulgent, it didn’t seem an exception to the rule, but rather, part of a natural evolution which had begun with “Jackie Brown’s” blaxploitation style (albeit a style that was extremely restrained in its execution in “Jackie Brown”) and had continued through “Kill Bill,” which was obscenely self-indulgent but just as obscenely entertaining, so I didn’t think too much of it. And so, going into “Inglourious Basterds,” I didn’t want or even expect anything special; I just wanted evidence that “Death Proof” was a fluke, that Tarantino wasn’t so off-track he no longer knew where the tracks were at all. What I got was a masterpiece, and I think Tarantino knows it. If you’ll recall the film’s last line, I don’t think that it was meant to actually be that character saying what he says; I believe it’s meant to be Tarantino talking to the audience through his character, telling us what he thinks of his creation.
I should mention that, although the other credit is on-stage, this was also the Hitler actor’s second time playing Hitler, apparently. Also, Samuel L. Jackson being credited as “The Raconteur” is just priceless, and that Hugo Stiglitz sequence (complete with electric guitar and his name displayed in bad ass yellow, seventies-style font) was beyond hilarious.
This is a movie comprised of great moments; to me, a fine moment is Shoshanna’s boyfriend, standing before a mound of unspooled film, the smoke from his cigarette about his head, and further beyond him and the mound, a growing pile of ejected rifle shells on the screen before which they stand.
For the record, “it’s the same plan Zach Galligan and Pheobe Cates used at the end of ‘Gremlins,’ basically” is one of the funnier things I’ve read in a while.
You speak of Inglourious Basterds’ unpredicatability, and I couldn’t agree more. Virtually no scene played out like I expected, particularly the tavern scene, and it was indeed refreshing watching a movie where I didn’t always know what was going to happen next. Also unexpected was just how damn FUNNY the movie was. I should’ve gathered that it would be from his previous films, but given “Basterds’” general tone, it’s incredible that it was as funny as any other film of his (possibly the funniest, in fact) while still operating in the realm of dead-seriousness. This is pure Tarantino, and I’m nothing but grateful for it.
This might finally be Tarantino’s year, I think, for both director and film. I would’ve thought that at least one of the “Kill Bill” movies would’ve garnered him some best director recognition (I’m not deluded enough to think either could ever win best picture, though “Vol. 2″ was great when I first saw it and just gets better with age; it’s approaching a transcendental quality for me at this point), but apparently not. “Pulp Fiction” certainly deserved recogntion, though it got none, and “Reservoir Dogs” as well, though that was too early to expect it to have been on anyone’s radar, I think. “Jackie Brown,” on the other hand, while excellent, was runner-up material through and through. But here, I think, may be Tarantino’s Oscar opportunity (why I or anyone else still cares about these fucking awards, I don’t know; water flouridation, maybe?): the movie’s a surefire best picture nomination, I would think, with ten nominations this year instead of five, and Tarantino’s made enough classics at this point that he could be able to net himself best director on the “lifetime achievement” card like Scorsese did (though, in a world where “Pan’s Labyrinth” and “Children of Men” don’t exist to Academy members, “The Departed” WAS the year’s best film). Is Tarantino, after just seventeen years and six or seven films (depending on how many you count “Kill Bill” and “Death Proof” as; 1.5 and 0.5, respectively, mayhaps?), in league with Scorsese, who has over forty films in fifty years, as a director? I think so.
It was a good time indeed, and I’m glad for it, and hope to repeat it again with both this film and his future films (which may possibly include a prequel to this, from what I’m hearing). I’m always weary of films that have been percolating for a long time, but they often seem to turn out excellent. Here is a fine example of such a case, as was “A. I.” and, going further back, “Apocalypse Now.”
“Avatar,” however, which had a trailer in front of “Basterds,” looks to be an example of what justifies that weariness.
August 28th, 2009 at 2:01 pm
Oh, and I should add that I couldn’t disagree more about the film being long. I commented that it had maybe a dozen scenes altogether, and I’d say that the film’s length felt comparable to the length of a dozen normal-length (man, I need a new word for “length”) scenes in any other movie.
September 1st, 2009 at 10:52 am
Man, this movie was AWESOME. I’m not gonna type as much as Ecksem but I’ll say a few words. SPOILER WARNING
First off, this is definitely a Quentin Tarantino production. That much was completely obvious the moment you saw Hugo Stiglitz’s name pop up in bigass letters and the sequence that follows (good ol’ brutal violence!). And it has his style of dialog as well. But what I’ve noticed about Tarantino’s style is that it’s like a cologne. Smells nice, but he frequently puts on way too much of it. Death Proof was some greasy douchebag with a popped collar who wanted to get laid. Basterds, on the other hand, was a guy who sprayed a little on his chest and both wrists like you’re supposed to. He didn’t stink of boring dialog, he merely had a nice scent of it.
One thing that sort of confused me was the fact that, due to the advertisements, I saw a different movie than I expected. And I actually enjoyed that movie much more because of it. Granted, it was odd when we weren’t seeing nearly as much of the Basterds as I had expected we would, but the entire Shosanna storyline turned out to be far more emotionally fulfilling from start to finish. She had revenge to take, and seeing her complete her plan was awesome, right down to the haunting projection of her face on the smoke billowing out of the screen.
As for the Basterds themselves, they turned out to be a different component of the story, a component I actually like them in. Aldo wasn’t meant to be a deep, compelling character. He was static and rightly so. He had one goal: killing Nat-zees, a goal which he completely fulfilled by the end of the film. While Landa was scheming against everyone and everything that moved, Aldo completely ignored it and decided to give him the karmic retribution he had so artfully avoided. And that was possibly the best way to end the movie. It was just beautiful to see him get that final kick in the balls he had been dodging for so long.
But god, you know what else was awesome? The complete and total subversion of the one thing that these historical movies always have. I know how Valkyrie is gonna end. I know how Call of Duty can’t end. I know that any fiction involving Hitler is going to have the Furher kick the bucket. And that is why I thank Inglorious Basterds for saying “Fuck it, we’ll kill ‘im anyway”. I mean seriously, seeing everyone bite it like that was just beautiful violence. I loved every minute of it.
I guess I typed way more than I expected to this time. Until next time!
September 2nd, 2009 at 11:45 pm
I haven’t seen this movie yet, but will someday.
Given Ecksem’s comment about Avatar, I felt the need to jump in and throw my two cents on the table.
The Avatar trailer looked okay until the blue-skinned cat people showed up. Once they were on the screen I thought it looked like something akin to garbage. Seriously, the 3-D is going to have to be pretty damn amazing to somehow obscure the lameness of what I saw.
The effects didn’t look very good at all. It looked, for lack of a better word, “cheesey”. If this is what $300 million dollars looks like on the screen then I am not impressed.
If this movie had say… George Lucas’ name on it people would be running around with pitchforks. But apparently since it is James Cameron he gets a free pass? Lame.
I’ve never had a problem with Cameron’s films. They’re all solid, but he isn’t what I would consider a top shelf director. Titanic is definitely his best film and the one thing he has done that I think is truly a great one.
After seeing the Avatar (or Avatard as I like to call it) trailer, I could only think that maybe he’s been underwater for a bit too long. It’s too bad. Think of all the awesome movies that could have been made with all that money. *sigh*