Inglorious indeed
There must be a time when I stop binge-blogging about an absolutely inane movie just watched. As no such time has yet knocked, here’s a rant about Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds.
Rant number one, I had to google the movie’s correct spelling. Followed by philosophical inquiries about the logic in the search, and the efficacity of such a title.
Even though I am a self-professed Tarantino fan, the Grindhouse/Deathproof debacle had a strong enough impact on me to not rush to a hall to watch the eagerly awaited IBs. I probably was conciously delaying my possible disappointment, something that the trailers made no mistake in conveying. And true to that, a disappointment it is! It probably is the worst movie Tarantino has made, while still under the remnant intoxication of Kill Bill’s success, meanwhile exhausting his audience-reinforced flamboyant bravado, which borders on simply corny in this travesty of a thriller.
I have to admit, the first scene was typically gripping, after which it was all downhill. The forgettable casting doesn’t let you forget it. Roth (riding on Tarantino’s contribution to him) as the bear jew is absolutely ridiculous, and his whole act feels like a high-schooler’s rendition of a supposedly great character, which the audience never had the fortune of seeing. Brad Pitt seems to constantly have a nagging doubt about his casting, and he’s absolutely right. There are too many references to Kill Bill, seemingly a nostalgic tribute to a masterpiece, albeit less than 10 years old. Flowery rock ballads are peppered in at the perfect times to transport us into the 90s and forget what the hell we were doing in the first place. Long gripping sequences, which are supposed to keep you on the edge of your seats, are so long and predictable, that you successfully tip over the edge out of your seats. Tarantino needs to use his stylistic baggage assumed because of a few successes to sparingly few and appropriate occassions, and not on every possible opportunity.
Finally a note about the ending. Only after complaining about the movie for half an hour did it dawn on me that Hitler and Goebbels were brought to their demises. I wonder if it is just me, or that this impactful ending occured as a mere passing to the maker! I strongly feel, when you play with history, the best approaches are to either change audience perception of history while keeping events in tact (like “The Last Temptation of Christ” or “Oru Vadakkan Veeragatha“), or if you’re brave enough to change history, then bloody well follow through with it. If art is an adequate representation of the artist, then Tarantino probably wanted the ending to end on a brash note, conveying his bravado and callous authority to shock. It seems to me that he has taken the easy way out, all in all, leading to not even titilating a curious peep to the audience’s mind as to the possible repurcussions of such a dramatic change in history. Alas…
What a drag…
