Dem Reviews: Inglourious Basterds
(Ed. Note: We’re starting a special edition of Dem Reviews here on Dumb Drum today with a guest review from local blogger/podcaster Famous Whitewater from local blog Fresno Famous. In the future we hope to bring you more guest reviews so if you’re interested in participating, feel free to drop me an email at brodiemash@gmail.com and we’ll try to get you on in the future!)
SPOILER ALERT. I’m giving it all away in the first paragraph!
Everybody hates a Nazi.
That’s as good a place to start as any: Everybody hates a Nazi, and when a whole lot of them burn at the end of Quentin Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds,” you can’t help but relish in the irony of it all. When Hitler (oh yes, Hitler is in the film) gets his face destroyed by a hail of bullets, maybe you get squeamish and avert your eyes. But you don’t feel bad. You never feel bad.
After all, this is HITLER.
He’s the worst of the bad guys. Just ask President Obama.
This is Tarantino’s trick with Basterds. He draws a distinct line between the bad stuff done by the good guys (Brad Pitt and his crew) and the bad stuff done by the bad guys (those dead Nazis) and then just leaves it there, so in the end, while you hate those Nazi bastards (and want to see them burn), you’re totally OK with the American ones, and maybe even cheering them on some (but not too much).
And you’re left wondering, why? It has to be more than the accent, right?
But that’s the after-you-see-it conversation.
What you really want to know is, does it stack up?
Well, this IS a period piece so Tarantino can’t fall back on the jive-talking bad-muther-fucker routine. But that’s what keeps Basterds from being simple novelty (see “Death Proof”) and allows for a few surprises (like the totally moving opening scene). It’s heartening to see that Tarantino can do a genre-shift and keep it real (so to speak).
And he does have his moments (the opening credits, voice overs from Harvey Keitel and Sam Jackson, some knife skills that rival “Reservoir Dogs”). But for the most part this is a “normal” film. Normal being a relative term.
Let’s say it’s the least “Tarantino” of the Tarantino films and have that not be a critique.
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