Sunday, August 23, 2009

Inglorious Basterds: Quentin Tarantino at His Most Erratic

When it comes to judging creative works, I have come to believe that there are no absolutes separating “good” from “bad.” Art is subjective to personal taste, which entails a mix of our emotional experiences and sense of aesthetics. Our judgment is heavily influenced by our level of enjoyment or appreciation of a particular work. As the cliché goes, “one man’s feast is another man’s famine.” This is particularly true of the often polarizing films of Quentin Tarantino.

To me, a “good” film is one that connects emotionally. The story holds my interest and the characters are relatable, if not always likeable. Sometimes the presentation is thought-provoking, sometimes merely entertaining. A “bad” film is one that annoys or insults one’s intelligence. Because neither the story nor the characters connect, it is ultimately a tiresome bore. Oddly enough, Tarantino’s “Inglorious Basterds” does all of the above, good and bad.

When I learned that Tarantino was working on this project I did not have high hopes. I remembered the 1978 Italian film, “The Inglorious Bastards,” as a pretty lousy effort. It struck me as a brainless shoot-‘em-up with a poorly-written story, atrocious acting, and absolutely no concern for period accuracy. Like many history buffs, I have problems with World War II fare where the men wear late ‘seventies shag hairstyles and porn star moustaches, as was the case with the earlier production.

When pre-release interviews with Quentin Tarantino revealed that “Inglorious Basterds” was not a remake of the earlier movie, my curiosity was piqued. Being a fan of the filmmaker’s often dark and disturbing style, I was ready to give his latest work a chance. After all, “Pulp Fiction” and the Tarantino-written “True Romance” are personal favorites. It stood to reason that I would enjoy yet another entry in the Tarantino canon.

“Inglorious Basterds” tells two intertwining tales of revenge against the murderous tyranny of the Nazis. As the first story begins in France in 1941, teenaged Shoshanna Dreyfus (Melanie Laurent) miraculously survives the massacre of her family at the hands of S.S. Colonel Hans Landa, a.k.a. “The Jew Hunter.” Three years later, she has assumed the identity of “Emmanuelle Mimieux” and now owns a cinema inherited from a deceased relative. In the other tale, Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) leads a group of eight Jewish-American commandoes dubbed “The Basterds.” They successfully infiltrate Nazi-occupied France shortly before D-Day and terrorize German units with unspeakable brutality, including scalping. The two tales converge when Mademoiselle Dreyfus and Lieutenant Raines launch parallel plots to sabotage a Third Reich propaganda film premiere that could potentially kill many high-ranking Nazis, including Joseph Goebbels, Hermann Goering, and Adolf Hitler himself.

While both stories are intriguing, the resulting film is a mixed bag. It is possibly Quentin Tarantino’s most erratic work to date, running the gamut from inspired brilliance to utter idiocy. When it is good, it is an incredibly suspenseful and intelligent thriller. When it is bad, it seems like nothing more than Tarantino’s fan boy self-indulgence, clumsily attempting the hip cultural references of “Pulp Fiction” in a Second World War setting. The iconic name-checking becomes very monotonous, serving only as a distraction from the stories in progress.

On the plus side, Shoshanna’s story is very compelling. A young innocent turned cold and ruthless by the senseless slaughter of her loved ones, her plot to avenge their deaths evokes much sympathy and leaves the viewer hoping for her success. Her story is beautifully written and filled with enough unexpected twists to prevent any second-guessing until the very end.

Also praiseworthy is the performance of Austrian actor Christoph Waltz as the fearsome Colonel Landa. In classic Hollywood fashion, Waltz creates a villain that one absolutely loves to hate. The S.S. officer is painted as a highly manipulative opportunist who uses false graciousness to charm as he kills. The effect is incredibly creepy and profoundly unforgettable.

While Brad Pitt gives a commendable performance as Aldo Raine, complete with a very accurate-sounding Tennessee accent, his character proves difficult to like. Very early on, we realize that Raine is something of a psychopath who actually enjoys killing. In reality, the atrocities committed by his Basterds are no less heinous than similar acts by the Nazis. It is hard to sympathize with Raines in the same manner as Shoshanna. He is a hero only by virtue of being on the side of American democracy rather than Nazi totalitarianism.

My biggest gripe with “Inglorious Basterds” would be the liberties that Quentin Tarantino takes with history. Granted, the story is intended as a revenge fantasy, but the deliberate historical inaccuracies come off as sheer idiocy. Lieutenant Raine and two of The Basterds gain admittance to the premiere by posing as an Italian film crew. If this story is set in June of 1944, shortly after the Normandy invasion, then it is highly unlikely that this ruse would have worked. Italy surrendered to the allies in September of 1943, making Italian nationals persona non gratis in the face of such high-ranking Nazis. However, this is a minor quibble compared to the ending that completely rewrites the outcome of the war in Europe. It is a confounding conclusion that is cathartic and stupid at the same time. Maybe that was Tarantino’s intention, but I doubt if it will make “Inglorious Basterds” attain the same legendary classic status as “Pulp Fiction.” Time will tell.