Inglourious Basterds Reviews
It starts out somewhat promising, but goes off the rails faster than the Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen with a cracked wheel roaring through Eschede.
The accents were crappy and uneven.
Pitt's character has no backstory whatsoever; he's just been tasked to kill Germans (sorry, "nazis" - because everyone in a grey uniform was a 'nazi" apparently, nevermind the difference between the Heer and the SS) and scalp them, because he's part Apache.
Most of the members of his band are Jewish Americans, despite looking like the sort usually cast as Italian-Americans from the Bronx in other films.
I say most, because one member is German. He apparently killed several German officers while enlisted in their own army and somehow got away with more than one. Yet when caught, was 'sent back to be made an example of'... because shooting him wouldn't have made an example, right? Three hots and a cot in a cell is FAR more effective as a deterrent in wartime. You see where this is going. The Basterds break him out of his cell (forget it was implied that he was sent back to Berlin, or pretend that Berlin is a weakly guarded suburb of Paris, for this to work) and make him one of their own.
They're joined by a Brit who loves German cinema down to the most minute detail, speaks German fluently, albeit with a trace of an accent, yet doesn't know how many fingers to hold up when ordering a drink and pretending to be German. This raises the suspicion of a Gestapo officer who, in 1944, was still wearing the black uniform the Gestapo abolished in 1939.
But that's okay, because the 70's style soundtrack never lets you feel like you're in 1944 anyway.
The usual Tarantinoesque dialogue and foot-fetish shots are present, so fans of his work will have no doubt it's his film. In one scene when an actress was talking to an SS officer, the pacing and inflection of her dialogue was beat-for-beat identical to Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, and the lingering shots of her bare feet were like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Or Bridget Fonda in Jackie Brown. Or almost any of the girls in Deathproof. At least Bridget Fonda's feet were pretty.
I won't spoil the ending for you, but the way two plots converge means that the Basterds had no reason to exist in the story at all. Had they not been there, the ending would have been the same - making the story as pointless as going to see this movie to be entertained.
Well, that was certainly an experience.
Quentin Tarantino is and has been for many years my favourite director. With the exception of 'Kill Bill', I don't think the guy has made a movie below the standard of "really good", and the boldly titled 'Inglourious Basterds' is no exception. It's got everything you would expect: brutal violence, amazing dialogue, excellent performances, gorgeous cinematography, an infectious soundtrack and that unique Tarantino flare that I can honestly say is totally unique to his movies. There's something about the way he stages a scene, uses character traits and slowly reveals information that is so tense and riveting; and this is particularly seen in the opening of the movie - one of the best in recent memory. It's not perfect, though. Some scenes in the first half drag a little and the running time could definitely have been trimmed down, but the finale makes it all worthwhile, with a highly satisfying ending. It's not his best movie or anything, and it isn't going to have the replay value of something like 'Pulp Fiction', but one thing's for sure - it's damn entertaining.