It's Inglourious!

First post, and I figured instead of an intro, which would just bore the hell out of everyone (me), I'd get right to business.

'Business' being, of course, the discussion of shit I feel like talking about, and 'discussion' being my one-sided, often ignorant, somewhat petty written opinion, followed by a space for outside comment, which will, in all likelihood, be completely ignored.

To work, then.

You know what was amazing ? The movie represented on the poster above this text. You know why? Because Quentin Tarantino put his foot in it.

Now look, I'm not that guy. I don't worship at the altar of QT (as in Tarantino, not the exceptional motor vehicle service station/tasty drink paradise, which it just so happens I do worship at the altar of). I don't dig horrifying violence, occasional foot fetishism and white people freely saying "nigger" on their own merits.

In all truth, I hesitate to even include the man on a list of my favorite directors, and here's why: when a fellow Varsity Level movie-head ('cinephile' sounds like someone that sticks their man-piece in a film reel hole, and so won't be used here) wants to understand what kind of film man you are, telling him you love Tarantino adds about as much to the conversation as saying "Yo, Pac? He was the best ever, son."

The only reasonable response is a nod and a smile. Yeah, I'm hip, what else you got?

I mean, describe a film as "Tarantino-esque" and anyone listening will nod their head sadly with a disappointed "damn, I thought that looked good" look on their face--even if you meant it in a good way. Which you didn't.

The idea of Tarantino's style is now ubiquitous, underrated and bereft of it's proper impact.

Thing is, that ain't his fault. I mean, like Jay said, just go through his rap: "Reservoir Dogs," "Pulp Fiction," "Jackie Brown," "Kill Bill" 1 & 2, and "Death Proof".

Point out the weakest movie in the group and I can guarantee it did more to challenge conventional film storytelling than 95% of movies that year. Point out the strongest, and your index finger will be extended toward a full-fledged cultural hallmark.

No, it wasn't Big Awkward's (admit it, watching Quentin talk is uncomfortable) fault that anything "Tarantino style" is now regarded with a grain of salt and critical sneer.

It's the imitators that hurt the game.

The many also-ran auteurs that use all the Tarantino stew's meaty chunks and none of it's hearty broth and vegetables. It's one thing to use violence, foul language and general disregard for societal norms as a means to help create a distinct cinematic poetry. It's quite another to splash them haphazardly about on screen and expect to come up with something beautiful. It don't work like that.

[On a related note, f**k you, guy that made "Running Scared".]

NOW, with all that in mind, I just want to say that I think unabashed adoration is called for again. Forget the hate, the bitter taste you developed from QT's hyper-popularity among even the film illiterate, the aggravation you felt when every jackass with a camera and a dream screwed with his story's chronology thinking it might make his shit relevant.

Remember all that love in '92 and '94 when "Dogs" and "Fiction" changed the game? Time to bring it back. Why?

Because "Inglourious Basterds" may just be the most refined, tonally polished, and beautifully executed film Tarantino has ever made.

Ay, calm down there, fake Bible verse-reciting guy. Back up, dude with the "Bad Motherfucker" wallet.

I'm talking about another level here.

"Basterds," in it's comfortable, leisurely contemplation of itself--the long periods bereft of action, the thoughtful, reverent use of language as an art form in itself, the sudden, staccato bursts of gruesome violence used to anchor every conversation, the distinctly European sensibility coupled with an undeniable American machismo--it's simply a wonder.

Once Upon a Time In Nazi-Occupied France: A glass of milk. Hugo Stiglitz. Strudel (with cream). Wilhelm's son Max. Flammable film prints. A big damn angry head.

Who would have known these were the things that make up a... well, I didn't say it, Aldo Raine did.

A masterpiece.