Inglourious Basterds (2009)

Artwork for Theatrical Release.

It's really hard to love Quentin Tarantino, the man; but very easy to adore Tarantino, the director.

Listen to Tarantino do an interview and I dare you to go a full 12 rounds before wanting to deck him in the mouth.  The man knows his stuff (sic.), but he's bucolically annoying when it comes time to explain himself.

Thankfully, you can enjoy his films without listening to him, for the most part, although no one will fault you for going on a munchies break during his scene in Pulp Fiction (1994).

For those that loved Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Pulp Fiction, but loathed the Kill Bill couplet (2003 & 2004) or just couldn't understand it (count me in), Inglourious Basterds is a welcomed return to what made Pulp Fiction so enjoyable, memorable and groundbreaking.


With Pulp Fiction he touched on the nuances of exploitation films of all sort:  Something that he managed to take and overuse in the Kill Bill films, resulting somehow in an utterly beautiful stylized film that I loved visually, but couldn't really stomach too much.

Here, with Inglourious Basterds, he manages to tone it down and hone it into a tool that maintains the pace and themes of the film.  Doing the job of exposition here.  Doing the job of levity there, always in a cinematic way.

God I hate him.


True to format, the music is beyond perfect.  It is the rare musical instance that doesn't elevate the film beyond the limits of emotions.  The timing and tone is always perfect, and here is where Tarantino's douchyness comes out.  He manages to find obscure and oft forgotten songs that fit perfectly in completely irrelevant circumstances.

And make it work!

I hate him so much.

It is one of these instances, the projection room climactic sequence, that finally shows, after all this time, that Tarantino has a bit of a heart, albeit a twisted, ironic heart.

Buy this film now on BluRay.  Watch it when the kids fall asleep, and slowly slide into utter vitriolic amorous hatred.

I swear that's a thing.

For anybody questioning his douchie intentions and self realization, you need not look any farther than the closing line in the film.

"You know Utivich, this might just be my masterpiece."

You sir, are such a dick!