Inglourious Basterds (2009)

Every picture Quentin Tarantino makes reads on the screen like a love letter to the films he grew up with, even as its structure and visual style appear to fly in the face of what's considered "normal" for the average American moviegoers. I'm reminded of early Jean-Luc Godard (how's that for a bit of film pretension?), who ushered in the French New Wave by rallying against what was considered "mainstream" cinema by, in part, firmly embracing many of the tropes of the past. For Godard it was, among other things, the crime and gangster pictures of the 40s and 50s, including Hollywood greats like TOUCH OF EVIL and THE BIG SLEEP. For Tarantino, it's a global hodge-podge ranging from 70s blacksploitation to Asian wuxia to Godard himself.

The point being: Quentin Tarantino is going to make what he knows, and what he wants to see.

And INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS is a whopper of a love letter this time: a Spaghetti Western wrapped in a "men on a mission" war flick, full of tiny anachronisms and homages - some subtle, some glaringly obvious - that pulled together speak to the power film holds over us, and one of the best movie experiences this year.

I've tried a number of times since seeing INGLOUROIS BASTERDS on opening day to write about it. In the meantime a tremendous flurry of arguments have erupted all over the web, some incredibly well thought out on both sides, some decidedly less so. It's been so much to take in and process that I found it once again beginning to influence what I wanted to talk about: the actual movie.

What to do? I decided to compromise a bit: instead of a standard review I opted for a bit of the old "cut-n-paste", taking a few thoughts here and there and each to stand on it's own. Consider it a "random review generator"...some scraps that, with a bit of prudent editing (something I never seem to do) and elbow grease could have been a standard review, but now looks something like this:

• For a film well over two hours, and predominantly subtitled, none of my friends who saw the films remember it being long or, for that matter, subtitled.

• Over at The House Next Door, Matt Zoller Seitz talks about the dialog as the real source of action in Tarantino's films, the "gunshots, car crashes and torture scenes" acting as visual punctuation to what's being said. The lengthy conversation in between Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) and Pierre LaPedite (Denis Menochet) in Chapter 1: "Once Upon a Time in Nazi-Occupied France" brilliantly illustrates this point, with a technique Tarantino uses numerous times, both here and in his previous films.
  

• In the scene, the tension is consistently ratcheted up as Landa dances around the issue of whether LaPedite, a dairy farmer, is hiding Jews in his house. Tarantino, knowing he'll get it back, diffuses the situation when Landa, asking if it's alright if he smokes (minutes earlier he had allowed LaPedite to smoke a small, cob pipe) reaches into his jacket and pull out an enormous, Sherlock Holmes style pipe (it's called a calabash). It's a big laugh in the film, and even LaPedite smirks. Without going into spoilers, a few seconds later the shit hits the fan, and that supposedly dissolved tension comes back, landing right in your gut.
  

• It's a device Landa knowingly utilizes as part of his arsenal, but it's also a trademark Tarantino move - he does it again during the "drinking game" scene in the middle of the move - as well as in PULP FICTION most notably from his other films.

• David Bowie's "Cat People" works better here than it ever did in the film CAT PEOPLE. or, for that matter, on any of his records. The few instances where Tarantino breaks with the time period - both in his musical choices and in his visual style, like the 70s exploitation introduction given to Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz (complete with narration by Samuel L. Jackson) - is fascinating because on paper it seems like it shouldn't work, yet never fails to do so.

• If there's a misstep in the film, it's Mike Myers' casting. He's certainly not bad, but it's a small role that serves as an exposition device, and the baggage he brings from his other films take you right out of the movie. It's a mystery why when so much of the cast is made up of excellent German and French actors Tarantino turned to a Canadian comedic actor to play a British colonel.

I may post some more notes in the future, but I wanted to leave with a brief aside concerning the questions that have raging across Internet about BASTERDS, as some critics laud it while other bash, accusing it of, among other things, Holocaust Denial. I think the question of "war" films as entertainment and the responsibility film has to history is a great launch pad for discussion, but it's a question I'm ashamed to say I feel slightly disconnected to. My general philosophy concerning any film I watch boils down to two things:

1. Did the filmmakers accomplish what they set out to do?
2. Did I derive any pleasure from the viewing experience?

There's purposefully a lot of wriggle room there: there are dozens of movies I think are bad that I enjoy, dozens more that are good that I didn't like, and hundreds that are either bad and I didn't enjoy or good and I did. And regardless of the debate regarding the ethics of the film, for me INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS sticks its landing on every front.

Valkyrie (2008)

The one-word movie reviews continue, in an effort to stop from thinking about all the myriad issues in TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF MICHAEL BAY. My interest in seeing VALKYRIE waxed and waned while it was in the theater, but a chance to see Bryan Singer and Christopher McQuarrie work together again intrigued me enough to see if the lightning they captured in THE USUAL SUSPECTS could again be bottled.

VALKYRIE is based on the famous assassination attempt and political coup on Hitler and the Nazi regime in the final days of WWII by a section of his trusted inner circle, led by Colonel Claus von Stauffenburg, as played by Tom Cruise. The problem with a movie like this is the burden of history: you know the attempt fails. Overcoming that hurdle is a tough job, and when Singer and McQuarrie get down to the business of executing the attempt and what occurs in its aftermath, VALKYRIE really shines. A large share of thanks has to go to the performances of everyone involved, particularly Tom Wilkenson as a Nazi general who slyly plays both sides of the coup, and Bill Nighy, as the colonel battling his own fears and doubts as he moves to do what's right. Cruise, after a very wooden start in the first half of the film (there's a lot of "Tom Cruisey-ness" in his early scenes) explodes in the second half, really letting you feel the anger and doggedness of his conviction that his attempt has succeeded, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

The best part of VALKYRIE is not its action, but its beauracracy, as the coup is commanded from offices and telephones, teletype machines and switchboard operators. The tension is ratcheted up to a tremendous degree, proving that it's not the end, but the path to the end that's important. If Singer and McQuarrie had only tightened up the first half of VALKYRIE to equal the second half, they would have had a modern classic on their hands. As it stands, VALKYRIE is still an above-average thriller with enough ideas and visual style to recommend to anyone looking for a good story.

Movie #4: Inglorious Bastards (1978)

When I was a kid more often that not you would find my Sunday mornings spent curled up on the couch with my father watching WWOR 9, a local television station that would specialize in kung-fu and war films from the 60's and 70's. INGLORIOUS BASTARDS feels like a taste of all those afternoons, bringing back the dust slowly falling in between the slats of light from the shades and the icy wetness on my head whenever my father would play around and use my head as a coaster for his beer.

Considered a classic "Euro-Cult" film, it's essentially a lower-budget Italian DIRTY DOZEN, about a group of WWII allied war criminals who are hit by an enemy air strike while being transported to prison. Taking advantage of their predicament they initially make plans to run off and make their way to the Swiss border, but their plans are foiled once they mistakenly kill a disguised American strike force and are involuntarily "volunteered" to take their place on a dangerous mission deep within Nazi territory.

Everything is done on the cheap, but director Enzo G. Castellari knows his way around a film, and shoots everything with an enthusiasm and a skill that rises above the constraints placed by the budget. The use of hand-held cameras following the action bring an immediacy and excitement to the big set pieces and is assisted by the gorgeous Italian location shooting. Castles, waterfalls, small towns and open fields make up the majority of the set dressing, and Castellari knows where to put his camera to make the most of things.

Another wise choice is in the choice international casting, featuring Bo Svenson and Fred Williamson in the lead roles. There's a immediate charm and camaraderie evident when everyone's together. Svenson is saddled with the leader role, and the one criminal who's not really a bastard (he's being court-martialed for using his airplane as a taxi to see his girlfriend one too many times), but he's engaging and honest while also being as hard as he has to keep his "men" in line and get them to safety. Williamson, though, is the real prize - he's in incredible shape in the movie and gets the best of the camera every time, even mugging to the audience after one action sequence. Plus it's hysterical when they have to try to convince the French Resistance how Williamson could possibly pass himself off as a Nazi. A lot of this is due to the script, which is pretty tight and has as its core a solid high concept for a story. Although the idea of a gang of criminals taking on the bad guys has been done before, never does INGLORIOUS BASTARDS feel like a knock-off of more successful war films.

As Svenson leads his motley crew of criminals from one situation to the next the INGLORIOUS BASTARDS lights up in a way that only the most bad-ass films can. Crossbows are fired, people jump in the air and do somersaults just before shooting, a halberd is almost used a weapon. And yes, there is a sneaky Italian thief who manages to hides an entire tool set in his clothes and goes mad for a group of naked German women who just "happen" to be splashing around naked in a lake.

Sure, it's that's kind of movie. And yes, you can see the strings sometimes when an explosion goes off and a soldier "flies" into the air. But INGLORIOUS BASTARDS is just too damn fun and too finely made to really care about any of that stuff.