Inglourious Basterds

Inglourious indeed


So there's this kid, let's say maybe nine or ten, and he comes out of school one day all fired up with indignation after a history class on the Second World War. Now this kid is a bit of a comic book fan and he has a way with words (though he's not too good on spelling), so he sits down and he writes a story about what he would have done to Hitler if he had had the chance. Witness 'Inglourious Basterds'.
Any review of this film will say it's about a troop of American Jewish soldiers dropped into Nazi-occupied Europe to kill soldiers, and then scalp them. It's not. That's a high concept that explains one chapter (the movie is split into chapters), but it fails to take into account the other stories that ultimately interwine for the final sub-Aldrich bloodbath ('The Dirty Dozen' is an underused influence here). Each tale, however, is just as childish, something highlighted by a silly Mike Myers cameo. Entertaining, often, but about as mature as an easy single.
The Tarantino name being what it is, the film is jam-packed with talent. The German actors (Brühl, Waltz, Kruger) are excellent, while Mélanie Laurent as Shosanna is a stand-out. Pitt, Roth et al. do what they have to do as cardboard cut-outs (Pitt might make a great Popeye). There are some nicely staged scenes, impressive shots and, wow, isn't Tarantino clever to hold our enjoyment of killing Nazis up to us with onscreen Germans enjoying a film of Allies being killed. But let us be under no misapprehension, this is a cartoon. (I was initially going to qualify that with a 'for adults', but it's not, it is a long, live-action cartoon, period.) It passes the time, but so do 'Tom and Jerry' (possibly an alternative title?). If this is what the best of today's cinema can give us, I think I'll stick with the '40s.

Death Proof

I thought Tarantino could write, but now I'm not so sure. 'Death Proof' the 'Fifth Movie by QuentinTarantino' (as the poster proudly proclaims) is a movie of two halves, both of them dull.

 

Stuntman Mike, a grizzled veteran of Old Hollywood, gets his sadistic kicks from running beautiful young women (of which there seem to be carloads in this otherwise deserted part of America) off the road. The first half shows him successful, the second has him meet his match. Despite good talent on show (and in skimpy skirts and shorts, the victims are on show), there is little story here, and the dialogue that usually is Tarantino's strength, lets him down here. Maybe it's because he's writing for so many women, or rather his version of women. It is ironic that the first movie in years to feature meaty roles for a multitude of women, treats them as so much meat. The only entertainment supplied is a violent climactic car chase. Even here the violence feels vindictive rather than an expression of some sort of justice. The girls who give chase to the murderous stuntman do not know of his earlier activities, chasing for the attempt he has made on them. Rather than turn to the cops (sure why would they do that?) they opt after only a moment's reflection to 'kill the bastard'. Again and again Michael Reeves' wise words about cinematic violence came back to me; to celebrate violence in film is immoral. This isn't the Road Runner here. The initial car killing replays not once but three times so the audience can glory in each girl's realistically gory death. This is not something I get a kick out of, and presumably anyone who would would get on pretty well with Stuntman Mike.

 

In case you're out there sneering at lily-livered O'Leary and his allergy to gore, let me remind you that I am no stranger to and no enemy of onscreen violence. I've watched my 'Evil Dead', the 'Living Dead, the 'Undead Dead'. I've laughed at a baby in a liquidiser scene in 'Braindead' (the evil mutant offspring of a zombie priest and nun). These were Road Runner movies, or where more serious had a serious intent to their nastiness. 'Death Proof' for all its faux 70s look, is situated in a recognisable world with recognisable people. This isn't a cartoon. Yet there is no serious intent; all is superficial. Instead what we have is a shallow, misogynistic piece of cinematic vomit.

 

It is a shame that this movie was separated from the double-feature, 'Grindhouse' format it originally shared with Robert Rodriguez's 'Planet Terror'. Judging from the trailer for that other movie, shown before this, it looked a lot more fun. Also 'Death Proof' was a lot shorter as part of that package, while this incarnation is badly in need of a shearing. One way or the other it is the nadir of Tarantino's relatively short career. He's going to have to grow up a lot more before garnering again the acclaim he once commanded so easily.

Shock Proof!

Can you believe I only discovered today that Tarantino will be in Dublin on September 14th for the premiere of 'Death Proof'! It appears the Dublin Film Festival is bringing him over for a Q&A, a mighty coup for the new organiser, and my old classmate, Grainne Humphries. Given that the Festival won't be on until January, it's probably stretching things a little to be claiming it as a festival event, but good luck to you Grainne! Now can I have a ticket?