Henry’s Review of Inglourious Basterds

Inglorious Bastards reminded me of the primary reason why I go to the movies – for unadulterated entertainment. Quentin Tarantino has once again made a movie about movies but arguably for the first time in his career, he has found just the perfect plot that allows him to indulge his love for cinema yet create a masterful work that can stand on its own.

Tarantino throws in references thick and fast to WW2 German propaganda films, Hollywood luminaries like Louis Mayer and David Selznick, Sergio Leone and Spaghetti Westerns, and much more. One of my favorite scenes in the film is a casual discussion (about the movies, of course) between two of the main characters, a much-decorated Nazi officer turned movie star and a French cinema owner who is living under a disguise after escaping from a Nazi slaughter. The officer asks her, “do you also play German films?”, to which she responds, “In our country, we respect directors.” It is a beautiful exchange, one that highlights the democratic nature of cinema even in the most undemocratic times.

I won’t talk about the plot much other than that it concerns the titular bastards, a rag-tag team of sadistic American soldiers (led by the very goofy Brad Pitt and Hostel’s director Eli Roth, who seems to enjoy the sadism a little too much for comfort), a double-agent German actress (a very cute Diane Kruger) working for the British, the said cinema owner (a remarkable Melanie Laurent), who is planning her own revenge on the Nazis, and the baddest and maddest Nazi of all (Christopher Waltz in a performance surely to get an Oscar nomination), who plays a very charismatic villain. Although there is no traditional lead in the film, Laurent comes closest in terms of having the most well-defined arc, and also infuses an emotional core to the film.

Tarantino, once again, employs his favorite storytelling mode, splitting the film into chapters. Some would complain that his scenes go on too long but he does not shoot scenes in the traditional sense of the word. Each of the chapters is an extended set-piece or even a short film where Tarantino slowly keeps building up the tension to a remarkable degree with dazzling usage of dialogues, props and audio-video schemes. The first chapter, where Christopher Waltz comes to investigate a local farmer suspected of hiding Jews, is particularly remarkable, a textbook example of suspense filmmaking. It begins innocuously enough with Waltz asking for a glass of milk as he prepares to ask his list of questions. As the questioning turns more and more intense, so does Tarantino’s camera as it obsessively begins to trace each and every facial and physical movement of the characters, making brilliant usage of close-ups when necessary. Meanwhile, he introduces more props, a cigar for the farmer and a large, funny-looking pipe for the Nazi general to accentuate the man’s psychotic nature. Above all, Tarantino writes dialogues that are not so much meant for communicative purposes but to slowly unpeel the deepest emotions of his characters. He is truly interested in what his characters say, which is a rare quality to find in a director these days.

Inglorious Bastards begins with movies – the first chapter is called Sergio- “Once upon a time in Nazi-Occupied France” – and ends with the movies. Tarantino believes that cinema can correct the wrongs of this world, and for those 2.5 hours while I watched the film, so did I.