One would think that after a decade in the making that Quentin Tarantino would at least get the spelling write. Inglourious Basterds is another one of Tarantino’s odes to bygone days of cinema’s past. Part spaghetti western, part "macaroni combat," but uniquely made in the vein of its director, Inglourious Basterds has the usual Tarantino trappings of glowing homage, smart dialogue and interesting characters. What it lacks though is focus. The story is all over the place as numerous threads are all seemingly tied together on an improbable premise that’s typical Tarantino: a lavish film premiere in the heart of Paris with the most reviled man of the 20th century as its guest of honour.
At the heart of all the action is supposed to by the Basterds, a group of American army soldiers of the Jewish persuasion who are charged to go behind enemy lines and kill every Nazi they can lay their hands on. Their C.O., a southern fired, barely literate red neck by the name of Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) tells his men that they owe him a debt: 100 Nazi scalps, each. The Basterds gain a reputation amongst the Germans across France, not just for their methods in killing Nazis, but also for the odd ones they spare, the ones that survive get a swastika carved into their forehead. The Basterds are berserkers mostly, eight guys just out to do as much damage as possible.
Another large section of the plot was to do with a young Jewish girl named Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent). Having survived the murder of her family by the infamous “Jew Hunter” (Christoph Waltz) in 1941, she’s established herself as the proprietor of a small movie theatre in Paris under the name "Emmanuelle Mimieux" by 1944, the year most of the film takes place in. Shosanna begins receiving the attention of Fredrick Zoller (Daniel Brühl), a German war hero-turned-movie actor, whose exploits killing 300 Americans from a sniper post in Italy have been turned into the propaganda film A Nation’s Pride. It’s Zoller’s affection for Shosanna that makes her theatre the venue for A Nation’s Pride’s premiere, an event attracting all sorts of high ranking Nazi officials, including, possibly, Der Fuhrer. So Shosanna begins to plot her own revenge.
It’s a three-way revenge showdown at the premiere as The Basterds, Shosanna and Jew Hunter Col. Landa all make their plans to get even. To Tarantino’s credit though, you don’t need a score card to keep up with everybody. It’s still hard to take though as I think Tarantino sometimes misses the point with his own movie. My biggest complaint about Death Proof, his contribution to Grindhouse, is that it was a Tarantino movie wearing a grindhouse jacket. Unlike Robert Rodriguez’s Planet Terror, which really captured the grindhouse aesthetic, Death Proof tested endurance with incredibly long, Tarantino-esque dialogue sequences and a short, potent burst of action in the end. Inglourious feels the same way: a Nazi revenge flick, filled with mindless action spaced between long scenes of exposition.
Fortunately, this is Tarantino we’re talking about so those scenes are very well-written, and the actors rise to the occasion. I always underestimate Pitt’s willingness to ugly himself up and play against type but Aldo Raine is such an instantly memorable character you can look past the fact that this uneducated Tennessee hillbilly has Brad Pitt’s mug, but with a Popeye squint. Waltz is a great villain, and not quite your typical Nazi showing more sophistication than the average, but with a stern, ice water steeliness. The other standout is Laurent who does haunted really well playing Shosanna. Of the Basterds, Eli Roth and B.J. Novak from The Office are the most well-known faces, but it was a bit odd at first seeing Ryan the Temp in the thick of World War II France.
Inglourious Basterds does read like a labour of love, not just for Tarantino, but for everyone involved. Its two-and-a-half hour running time does seem to fly by, and the movie is very engaging on numerous levels. But maybe it’s the fact that Tarantino formula’s been repeated to death or the initially jarring effect of seeing the filmmaker’s signature dialogue being translated into French and German, but the Basterds doesn’t feel quite right. It’s an elusive element that probably has more to do with story than anything else. The film doesn’t unfold as expected, and usually that’s okay, but the sprawling yarn of Pulp Fiction is substantially different than something a little more straightforward like a revenge tale. Even Kill Bill, which despite being four hours long is intensely focused on The Bride’s journey. Inglourious Basterds bounds around a lot, and sometimes strays a bit close to farce (Mike Myers’ cameo for example), but it’s still remarkably effective and enjoyable. Perhaps spending a decade one script isn’t a total misuse of time after all.
