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Monday, 22 March 2010

Inglorious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino, 2009)


Tarantino’s almost return to form is a film that is often brilliant yet intermittently weak, showcasing the director’s ability in making dialogue exchanges riveting but failing to quell his inner dork at times.

I have reservations. Tarantino is no Scorsese when it comes to breaking established filmmaking rules and, at times, his attempts are too off kilter. I disliked the Hugo Stiglitz flashbacks greatly (the retro, almost blaxploitational way in which it’s presented is too jarring for it to work) and some of the music cues are questionable. Am I also the only one who found myself hating the basterds? Seriously, I’m not entirely sure that the allied forces would allow or condone indiscriminate scalping. I mean, c’mon, the stuff they’re doing is just as bad as the atrocities committed by the Nazi’s.

But I digress. The film, as a whole, works and much of it is the director in his element. Minimal yet often unconventional camera work and blistering yet non pretentious and self referential dialogue (something he delved into way too much with in the messy Death Proof) make for some cracking moments of cinema, the opening and the La Louisiana bar scenes in particular. For the most part the viewer is in the hands of a master filmmaker who is finding his feet again.

There are parts that don’t work (also, I think I’m the only one who didn’t like Brad Pitt’s performance) but I like it very much.

Basterds is just shy of being as good as Reservoir Dogs.

4/5

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