Several of us put our books down for one evening last weekend and bussed over to Grenada — since we have no movie theater in Greenwood — to see Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds. We still can't stop raving. It's a relief to see such a grand piece of original cinema, nothing with a numeral after the title, nor tracing its provenance to a television show, comic book, board/video game, or any other pre-sold and proven idea.
We all remembered what a revelation it was back in the '90s to first watch Reservoir Dogs and to discover its mad genius director, then a few years later to see those high expectations toppled when Pulp Fiction exploded. But that was nearly 15 years ago, and while Tarantino's four films in the interim were met with varying degrees of enthusiasm, it was clear he had not met the brilliance of those early creations. To some of us, it seemed that Tarnatino's star had burned too hot, too fast, and that he was but a fading trailblazer.
Months ago, word came from Cannes that Tarantino's latest film was a weird World War II flick about a band of Nazi-hunting Jewish-American soldiers, led by Brad Pitt with a Southern accent. It appeared that we were due another Tarantino bloodbath — a movie geek having fun with a big budget, making easy sport of a reliable villain. But to sit in a theater and let its many pleasures slowly reveal themselves, it seems that we were hasty to second-guess him. Instead of a campy gorefest, Inglourious Basterds is instead the filmmaker's most mature work to date, meeting and perhaps even exceeding the promise of his early work.
The film provides that rare excitement you get when you know you're watching something special. We could think of at least six things you'll see in Inglourious Basterds that you won't see in your run-of-the-mill summer blockbuster:
* Revisionist history. Such drastic
reworking of famous history — at least purposefully so — is virtually unknown in contemporary American film. At his best, that's what Tarantino
does: he takes shocking liberties, breaks the rules and
breathes new life into the medium. Don't be surprised to see copycats
for the next several years.
* Mesmerizing performances by a largely unknown cast. Unlike
Tarantino's big ensembles of familiar character actors, this cast
contains only one big American star and many excellent European
actors. (Also, some nice cameos ... Mike Myers was our favorite.)
There are at least two break-out stars here (including Christoph Waltz,
a shoe-in for an Oscar) and several others we'd love to see on-screen
again soon.
* Half the film is in subtitles. Tarantino embraces the
European setting, using several languages and dialects to serve the
plot as well as the mood.
* Long, leisurely composed scenes. Like a good book, the film is divided into chapters of composed sequences, mostly built out of conversation and subtle gestures, which combine to create a genuine psychological suspense that will make you squirm in your reclining stadium seats. (Or, if you see it in Grenada, your low-slung, grade-school auditorium chairs with rogue, ass-jabbing springs ... just kidding Grenada.)
*
Creative violence. Tarantino's trademark brutality is here in all its
provocative bravado, but there's a point to it (as much a point as war
can provide) and it's not so constant that the squeamish have to watch
through splayed fingers. By creating genuine suspense and
uncommon thrills, Tarantino makes his big-budget contemporaries, with
their quick-cut action scenes, screeching mayhem and superfluous
special effects, look like lazy hacks.
* An ending that will make you run from the theater. In the end, this is a movie about the power of cinema, both as an art form and an experience, and when you leave the theater, you should be acutely aware of the physical space. It's such a powerful ending that, when the Nazis get their comeuppance, it makes the climax of Raiders of the Lost Ark look like The Sound of Music.
Take it from us, this is as smart and literary a movie as we'll see this year. It's major American cinema.
All of this got us talking about the American auteur. We could name only a few of our country's iconic film directors whose movies are consistently interesting, bear their own artistic stamp and, when considered by your average filmgoer, are as relevant to their films as the actors: Tim Burton, the Coen Brothers, Clint Eastwood, Spike Lee, Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, and, of course, Tarantino — those are the big names. After further scrutiny, there were others whose day had seemingly come and gone but could not be counted out (Woody Allen, Francis Ford Coppola), then a handful of directors still producing interesting material but of name interest only to serious movie buffs: Paul Thomas Anderson, Wes Anderson, Darren Aronofsky, Jonathan Demme, Jim Jarmusch, Spike Jonze, David Lynch, Kevin Smith and Gus van Sant.
In the past 15 years or so, what movies have knocked you out? we inquired of each other. Which films rose above entertainment and achieved a greater art, like a good novel, surprising at every turn and presenting itself as something wholly unique? With these restrictions, and aside from the excellent Pixar movies, there were but a few: American Beauty, Fargo, No Country for Old Men, Lost in Translation, The Royal Tenenbaums, There Will Be Blood, Unforgiven. (The last one we saw, on which the verdict is still out, is Charlie Kaufman's brilliant Synecdoche, New York, which is so strange and complex it will take repeat viewings to sort out its importance.) There were a few others, but these were repeatedly mentioned. Could that be it?
We'd love to hear your thoughts, both on Inglourious Basterds, and on the great, literary works of modern Hollywood. We now return you to your engrossing book....
