Directed by: Quentin Tarantino
Written By: Quentin Tarantino
Cast: Brad Pitt, Mélanie Laurent, & Christoph Waltz
Runtime: 153 min
Rating: R
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Similar in tone, if not style, to the Kill Bill films, Tarantino returns yet again with another film meant to appeal to snobs alike. This time, Tarantino takes his revenge fantasies out of the world of Asian cinema and into the world of the spaghetti western, via a World War II setting. The opening scene, which takes place at a French country farmhouse, is a lengthy sequence where a Nazi colonel named Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) interrogates a farmer suspected of hiding Jews. Nicknamed “The Jew Hunter,” Landa is one of Tarantino’s finest creations and the one saving grace of the entire picture. As Landa, Waltz steers clear of Ralph Fiennes’s detached Nazi in Schindler’s List for a more soft-spoken, genial and, dare I say, polite interpretation. This opening, which is longer than expected, builds momentum largely on the strength of Waltz’s performance and Tarantino’s careful pacing, staging, and expressive dialogue (both in French and English). After this scene’s violent conclusion, however, Tarantino has nothing left in his bag of tricks to sustain the film’s running time. He instead repeats himself with scene after scene of monotonous dialogue, followed by rapid-fire violence.

The film is divided into chapters – something Tarantino really needs to stop doing – with each one sketching out a portion of a plot that involves, among other things, a young French woman’s plan to massacre hundreds of Nazis in a movie theatre as revenge for them killing her Jewish family. What results is a fractured and intensely boring collection of set pieces that eventually culminate in a final showdown that is confusing, disorganized and dispassionate, despite what some critics are calling a critique of the holocaust and of Nazi war crimes. In his last film, Death Proof, Tarantino bored us to tears for nearly an hour-and-a-half before dazzling us with an exciting and cinematic car chase that almost – but not quite – made up for the film’s sluggishness. With Inglourious Basterds, Tarantino does the opposite: he peaks early and abandons his audience by forcing them to fend for themselves. Unfortunately for us, Basterds is nearly double Death Proof’s running time.

Tarantino films are notorious for their dialogue and rich characters – none of which are evident in this latest work. The film suffers and ends up being nothing more than artifice, much in the same way as the Kill Bill films but a lot less entertaining. The eponymous band of Jewish soldiers, led by Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), are ciphers and secondary characters in a film purporting to be about them. The film could have been better served by cutting out all the scenes of the Basterds and focusing instead on Shosanna (Melanie Laurent), whom we are supposed to be interested in considering she was one of the survivors of Landa’s death squads in the opening. To make matters worse, the scene where we meet the Basterds is right up there with one of the most anticlimactic scenes of the year so far. Aside from Pitt’s accent and scene chewing, the scene is completely forgettable. And let’s not forget to nominate Eli Roth for a Razzie Award as Sgt. Donnie “The Bear Jew” Donowitz, even if it’s just for the look on his face when Tarantino inexplicably cuts to him during Raine’s “Nazi scalp” speech. Watch for it and just try to guess what he’s thinking.

Tarantino, it seems, is turning into M. Night Shyamalan. They are both talented, visionary filmmakers who are mired in their own self-aggrandizement. Not since Jackie Brown has Tarantino been able to combine his penchant for film thievery and rich dialogue into a film that is as satisfying in story, character, and yes, even action. Take for example a scene that appears in the middle of Basterds. It takes place inside a tavern occupied by a bunch of drunken German soldiers playing cards. The scene starts out quietly, as expected, and builds by adding a never-ending assortment of extraneous jokes, characters, flashbacks, and monologues. This finally culminates, predictably, in yet another Mexican standoff – something Tarantino’s been doing since Reservoir Dogs, except this time the guns are aimed at crotches, not faces. The scene ends in a violent shootout that by that point is a welcome respite from the long, ponderous dialogue that preceded it. Except, wait, the scene isn’t over. In nothing more than pure indulgence on his part, Tarantino adds another Mexican standoff! This time with characters we barely know. This is the same shit Shyamalan has been pulling since the disastrous Lady in the Water. In that film, if you recall, Shyamalan showed his complete distaste for his audience by spoon-feeding them with all the subtlety of an amateur. With Basterds, Tarantino does Shyamalan one better by eschewing cinematic storytelling for a pastiche that is lifeless, vacuous, and ultimately pointless.

Richard X
© Cinephile Magazine, 2009