Greetings everyone. I’ll be posting thoughts/reviews of every film I see for the first time in 2010. I’ll try to keep what I write free of spoilers in case you haven’t seen the stuff I’m reviewing. And I’ll use a rating system out of 10, basically what my vote on IMDB would be for the film, but with 1/2 numbers as well.

So let’s get started.

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS

A lot of what you need to know about Quentin Tarantino can be summed up with that title. The man can’t spell and/or doesn’t care. He likes to do things he thinks are quirky and artsy and doesn’t care to explain himself or to make any apologies for what he does.

It leads to cool things, like the contents of the mysterious briefcase in “Pulp Fiction”. And it leads to annoying things, like the Amanda Plummer line showed at the beginning of “Pulp Fiction” being different when she says it when the scene arrives again in the course of the film. There’s a fine line between art and reality, between doing something to create interest and discussion and doing it simply to be obtuse. It’s a line that has to be handled with a subtle touch, and Quentin Tarantino is about as subtle as a construction worker at a sewing circle. His ham-handed touch is something far less than deft.

What’s annoying or most frustrating is in his films he shows the ability to be a fantastic film maker, but he can never stop getting in his own way. That’s not to say his films aren’t entertaining, in fact they usually are. But I usually end up as frustrated as I do entertained.

“Inglourious Basterds” fits this mold to a T. It is an immensely entertaining film, filled with moments of annoyance and frustration that prevent it from being something I wholly enjoyed or find much more value in than not.

His pipe cracks me up

By way of a quick summary, the film is ostensibly about a group of Jewish mercenaries in World War 2 who strike fear in the Nazis by showing no mercy–scalping, branding, and taking no prisoners with any Nazi group they ambush. But it’s also about a Nazi “Jew Hunter” who relishes in his occupation so much that every one of his seemingly-normal interactions is tinged with the possibility of death-inducing rage and anger exploding out of every pore. And finally it’s about one of his prey who has reason for revenge, and what that prey tries to do to exact said revenge.

Because the film has various storylines and characters, it doesn’t come together as well as it should. I suspect if you see this film expecting to follow and revel in the exploits of the band of Jewish mercenary brothers, you will be disappointed. Their actions are only a smaller part of the larger story. And though the “Jew Hunter” is fantastically played  (at an Oscar level) by Christoph Waltz, he’s only in the film enough to merit consideration for Best Supporting Actor.

The film’s narrative unfolds quite effectively in several 10-15 minute scenes, a couple of which (in a farm house, in a restaurant, in a bar) are the best scenes in the film and at times transcend the film’s overall impact. That impact is why I’m middle of the road on this film. The moments of fantastic filmmaking or performances are balanced out by moments of complete cheesiness, stylistic miscues, and poor performances. For every Christop Waltz, there’s a Mélanie Laurent, who in classic Tarantino fashion is a woman he shoots in closeup and 3/4 shots so much you’d think he thinks she’s Grace Kelly. In this film she’s not deserving of the star treatment, she rolls her eyes and cackles and glams it up just like she was supposed to, but she comes off as annoying, and lost my sympathy. The Guy Ritchie-esque introduction of Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz is cool, and entertaining, but doesn’t fit in a film of extended takes and modest scenes/settings. Nor do a lot of the music selections, anachronistic dialogue, or stylistic choices. I get that this mismash of styles and “cool” film tricks is what makes Tarantino Tarantino. It’s also what makes his films annoying to me. Throwing motor oil onto a canvas and calling it sculpture may be art and entertaining to some people. To me it’s phony and pretentious. And annoying.

This one is all the more frustrating, because what “Inglourious Basterds” shows more than any of his films is that when Tarantino’s urge to be “cool” isn’t getting in his own way, he can be a very very good film maker. But he remains like a precocious child, producing greatness at the same time as showing off, ever in need of dialing back, and, this close to making truly great cinema. The last line is something to the effect of “I think this might just be my masterpiece.” It’s spoken by a character, but it’s clearly self-serving. That sums up Quentin Tarantino. He can’t let you draw your own feelings about his work. He has to carve it into your head himself.

6.5/10