What a Wretched Pile of Steaming Poo

For years, I've been comfortable in the knowledge that I don't like anything Quentin Tarantino touches. I can't quite pin down why, but it's pretty consistent. He's a little too aware that what he does isn't seen elsewhere. He seems more focused on imagery than story. He loves dialogue--just actors speaking. They don't have to really say anything. I don't mind a little bit of gruesome, but I have my limits.

I'm a fan of the more cut-and-dried "heroes" who make it very clear on which side they stand. That said, I recognize the storytelling-goldmine that is a more nuanced character. A little bit of personal turmoil or second thoughts are good places to draw the audience deeper into the narrative (if it's done well, of course).

Quentin (I asked, he's fine if I call him that) creates bland characters who curse more than a drunken Irish sailor who just broke a toe and was then shat upon by a seagull and then interact with those nearby using only their most base, predictable, and boring instincts. Then(!) he has the audacity to present these characters as some sort of commentary on the human condition or some such bullshit. I fully confess to not really paying attention anymore.

Then, I started seeing some ads for "Inglorious Basterds" and I had hoped that I could see in Quentin what so many have fawned over--talent. I like Brad Pitt and the main Nazi guy. They generally amuse me. I don't like Nazis. I don't mind violence. So far, so good. The clincher: people I trust told me it was good. Shit. Maybe I've been wrong all these years.

NOPE! Two-and-a-half hours. TWO-AND-A-HALF HOURS! Nothing happened. Nothing fucking happened for the whole goddamn movie. The characters I'd hoped to like turned out to be as smarmy as every other lead I've seen in a QT movie. The characters I'd started to like--the ones who made the occasional impression of emotion--ended up being as lifeless (and doomed) as I'd first feared.

The violence is grotesque and shows that the characters for whom I'm supposed to root are at least as bad as those they hunt. It's not even used as juxtaposition. If we saw what the Nazis were doing, and then saw the retaliation, maybe that could add some counterpoint. If the idea of becoming a monster in order to defeat one were explored, that could've been interesting.

Nazi leadership was portrayed as a bunch of overly-dramatic nincompoops who can scarcely pass each other in the hallway because they've got such hard-ons for the movie-within-a-movie that is at the core of what they'd call--a label applied in poor taste--the plot. It's like a cross between "The Birdcage" and a History Channel special. Except with a lot more Nathan Lane than black-and-white-footage.

We get a close-up view of Brad Pitt carving a swastika into a German soldier's forehead. We get a full-frame view of Hitler's face reduced to mush as one of our supposed good guys looses an entire clip of whatever-that-machine-gun-is-that-looks-a-lot-like-a-Thompson. That same supposed good guy gives us a wonderfully gruesome idea of what happens when a Louisville Slugger and cranium meet at high velocity. Several times. We see close-ups of scalpings.

"Inglorious Basterds" is a snuff film. QT either has some serious pent-up rage at the Nazi regime from 65+ years ago or he suspects the Jews are a stupendously violent group of people. Neither's rational (or true, I suspect). There's not a compelling argument that this movie was to tell a story. There's not a compelling argument that this movie was to show a place in time. There's not a compelling argument that this movie was to bring us into the mind of someone from the past.

I'm uncomfortable with a movie (and director) that sets a tale in this era and makes the Nazi colonel of the SS the most interesting and human character.

"Inglorious Basterds" is not even a little good. I don't have a redeeming quality to discuss. If I were to rate the movie on a five-point scale using my fingers, I'd punch it in the face.