Inglourious Basterds

OPENING: 08/21/2009

STUDIO: Weinstein Company

ACCOMPLICES:
Trailer, Official Site

SOUNDTRACK:

The Charge
Once upon a time in Nazi occupied France…

Opening Statement
There aren’t many directors who could get away with re-writing World War II to suit their own personal tastes. Then again, there aren’t many directors like Quentin Tarantino. Oh sure, there are a lot of folks who want to be the next Tarantino and some who think they already are. Fact of the matter is nobody but Quentin knows how to make a Tarantino movie, and brother is Inglourious Basterds one heck of a Tarantino movie. Goofy, historically inaccurate, and arguably in very poor taste, it’s also one of the most thrilling, entertaining, and well-crafted films of the year.

Facts of the Case
The plot — though I hesitate to call it that, since it’s more like a series of extended riffs which happen to connect to a larger story — more or less centers on a group of individuals calling themselves "The Basterds" (I have no idea why it’s spelled that way). Led by the legendary hillbilly Lieutenant Aldo Raine (a very amusing Brad Pitt), the rest of the group is comprised of Jewish-American soldiers whose mission is simple: find and scalp as many Nazis as possible. Lt. Raine has given each man a quota of 100 Nazi scalps, and the men all seem eager to do their part. Their primary nemesis is Colonel Hans Landa (an eccentric Christoph Waltz, deserving of all the praise he has received), known throughout Europe as "The Jew Hunter." Landa is a dangerous and crafty man who dedicates much of his time to hunting down and murdering Jewish families, so it’s no surprise he would love nothing better than to get his hands on Raine and his band of deadly Jewish soldiers.

Meanwhile, we meet Shoshanna (the effectively understated Melanie Laurent), an escaped Jewish woman now living as a Parisian citizen and movie theatre owner. Thanks to an unusual series of events, she finds herself with the opportunity to play host to the premiere of a prestigious German propaganda film, and in turn gain vengeance against the Nazis who murdered her family. Unknowingly, similar plans are also being hatched by The Basterds, having secured the assistance of a popular German actress (Diane Kruger, National Treasure) and spy for the British high command. These plans become even more important, when Adolf Hitler and his chief lieutenants decide to attend the premiere.

The Evidence
As with most Tarantino movies, much of what happens in Inglourious Basterds isn’t quite as important as how it happens. Say what you will about the man, but Tarantino knows his profession inside and out. He is a man hopelessly in love with the medium, and this film takes full advantage of cinema’s power. He can stir our feelings, by employing the tremendously effective music of Ennio Morricone, David Bowie, or Lalo Schifrin, regardless of whether or not the music is appropriate to the period or setting. He can stop a conversation, in order to provide us with a few minutes of background info on a character of interest. He can make a conversation between a group of people so involving and interesting that we nearly forget they’re all pointing pistols at one another. He can employ comedy when we expect horror and employ horror when we expect nothing terribly eventful. He can even take well-known historical events and dramatically alter them to provide a more interesting cinematic version of history. Most importantly, he does it all with fearless glee, and the result is his best work since the one-two punch of Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown.

Many have noted the film is particularly violent. While Inglourious Basterds certainly has violent moments, Tarantino doesn’t deserve to be labeled as one of cinema’s most bloodthirsty directors. His films are not excessively or incessantly violent, he simply knows how to use violence in an effective manner. It’s not the main course, it’s a deadly spice. As you might expect, his characters spend most of their time talking, talking, talking, and talking some more. One friend I attended the film with grew tired of the endless chatter. Personally, I could listen to Tarantino’s characters talk all day long. This is a man who knows how people speak to one another, and he adapts his pop culture-fused writing style seamlessly with his 1940s artificiality. If you’re expecting something even remotely resembling a traditional World War II movie, you’re in the wrong place. You’ll find no talk of the girlfriends back home, the best friends who have died, the patriotic pride of these soldiers, or the horrors of war. They’re just talking about King Kong, Leni Riefenstahl, Charlie Chaplin, David O. Selznik, and Van Johnson.

You might wonder why Tarantino even bothered to make a World War II movie, if he goes out of his way to make these events play to his own personal strengths and idiosyncrasies. Not to worry. This isn’t an homage to the war movies Tarantino loves. The man has a clear purpose: presenting the Jewish people the same kind of gung-ho revenge fantasy he gave abused and abandoned women with Kill Bill. This time, they’re far from helpless victims.

The Basterds may never existed, but it’s hard not to wish they did. Tarantino recklessly indulges in fantasy, imagining there was indeed a legendary, much-feared group of near-immortal Jewish men who stormed through Nazi-occupied France kicking ass and collecting scalps of evil men. Still, the idea is rather mild when compared to the intensely fetishistic indulgence Tarantino grants himself during the blood-soaked finale. I imagine that scene will make some people angry — and I suppose, from a purely technical point of view, they might have reason to be — but it’s so effectively done I simply can’t argue with it. Tarantino becomes slyly meta-fictional, using one of the same techniques within the film that he’s using on us as an audience — trading a traditional ending for something much more sensational. Considering the final line of dialogue is immediately followed by Written and Directed by Quentin Tarantino, he essentially provides a glowing review of his own work.

Closing Statement
Yes, Inglourious Basterds is irrepressibly in love with itself, but it earns the right to be with the masterful suspense demonstrated in the opening sequence, the subtle tension of the games being played in the tavern, and the sheer audacity of the final act. On a different day, I might have found it to be irresponsible rubbish, but in the stale cinematic climate we live in, I call it a treasure. It’s one of the best films I’ve seen this year.

The Verdict
10/10