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If there's one consistency in Quentin Tarantino's cinematic oeuvre, it's that he never delivers exactly what you'd expect. 2009's Inglourious Basterds is no exemption to this. The fact that the title of Tarantino's revisionist World War II fantasy is intentionally misspelled can perhaps be best perceived as a subtle hint that the movie itself is nothing like most imagined it to be. Neither the sweeping war movie nor the orgy of ultra-violence its title and marketing suggests, Inglourious Basterds is a talky drama that centres on a variety of coincidentally-connected characters during WWII. Unfortunately, too, this isn't the masterpiece one would have expected either. Clocking in at approximately 150 minutes, this is an unforgivably leisurely, almost glacial feature that loses its way in the thickets of alternative history and dialogue. Most importantly, this is not a movie about history or war, or anything of substance or meaning - it's a movie about movies & influences. For all its visual bravura and sporadic bursts of brilliance, it simply feels trivial.
Inglourious Basterds is divided into a number of titled chapters, with the main narrative focus split into three. One of the plot strands focuses on the Basterds; a group of bloodthirsty Jewish-American GIs under the command of Lt. Aldo Raine (Pitt) who spread fear throughout the Third Reich by brutally killing Nazis. Another focal point of the plotline is a fugitive Jewish woman (Laurent) who lives incognito in Paris and owns a movie theatre. The story also concerns a German SS Officer known as "The Jew Hunter", Col. Hans Landa (Waltz).
Nominally, Inglourious Basterds is about the titular troupe of commandos conducting raids throughout occupied France. But in actuality, the movie is a self-indulgent compilation of Tarantino's inspirations. In fact the Basterds themselves hardly appear in the film since Tarantino instead continues to obsess over wronged females seeking bloody vengeance (a trend he started with Jackie Brown, then exhausted with Kill Bill and Death Proof). The short screen-time of the Basterds would be more forgivable if they were replaced with interesting characters. Alas, the film spends more time with a bunch of boring, cardboard characters as a substitute. By the time all the multiple plot strands interlace for the finale, it's tough to care about what happens to any of the characters.
Tarantino has never been one to be succinct when he can masturbate through endless pages of self-indulgent, referential dialogue. The basic formula for a chapter is simple: a pointlessly long conversation takes place that acts as a precursor to a short burst of violence. The problem with this formula is that the dialogue rarely offers any effective characterisation...it's all gratuitous filler without any relevance to the story instead. (At one stage, characters converse for at least 40 minutes before they're all gunned down. And the point of that was...?) Each segment drags on for far too long until you no longer care about who's in danger or what's at stake. The necessity of such excessive chatting is especially questionable when the outcome is predictable.
Inglourious Basterds is just a radically undisciplined movie since Tarantino wanted the film his way and can never bear to cut a frame. He's unable to understand relationships in the movie industry too; in fact his most profound relationship is with himself. This is primarily reflected in the fact that he never hires a composer because he doesn't want another person to have that much influence on his work. The soundtrack for Inglourious Basterds is therefore pilfered from various sources, and the result is often jarring. Spaghetti-western music (ala Ennio Morricone) is used for an establishing shot of a French farmhouse, and a 1980s David Bowie song plays over a scene happening in 1940s Paris.
Sly winks pervade the movie as well. At the premiere for the latest Nazi propaganda movie, Hitler tells Goebbels "This is your finest film yet". The last line of the movie is perhaps the most significant wink - "I think this might just be my masterpiece", Aldo quips.
Moments of brilliance are contained within Inglourious Basterds which remind a viewer just how excellent Tarantino can be as a writer and director. Take for instance the brilliantly executed opening sequence in which Col. Landa interrogates a French dairy farmer about the whereabouts of his Jewish neighbours. At around half an hour in length, this dialogue sequence is sustained by the relentless tension Tarantino manages to conjure up. Also noteworthy is the movie's surreal inferno of a climax which rewrites history with such operatic verve that it's difficult not to get swept up in its ludicrous exhilaration. Other excellent segments can be found here and there as well (such as the hilarious Mike Myers cameo). In essence, the film is about 50 minutes of magnificence that's tragically squandered by the 100 minutes of boring, pointless filler surrounding it.
As for the cast... Christoph Waltz as Col. Landa is an excellent find. His performance itself (which earned him an award at Cannes) is effortlessly charming, while the character is one of the film's only three-dimensional creations (though his sudden change of heart in the final 15 minutes feels contrived and at the convenience of the plot). The role called for an actor with the linguistic ability to speak French, German, English and Italian, and Waltz delivers with aplomb.
Unfortunately, none of the Basterds are badasses; they're plain, unremarkable caricatures. Brad Pitt underwhelms as Aldo Raine, while scenes featuring Eli Roth's minor character unfold like outtakes from Hostel. Diane Kruger is note-worthy as an undercover German actress who helps the Basterds.
Mélanie Laurent is worth a mention; she submits a top-notch, immaculately nuanced performance as a beautiful young Jewish fugitive. Meanwhile Der Führer and Joseph Goebbels, played by Martin Wuttke and Sylvester Groth (respectively), are portrayed as cartoonish buffoons.
Somewhere in the midst of the overstuffed Inglourious Basterds lies two very enjoyable movies - an enjoyable, 89-minute slice of exploitation cinema and a potent war drama. When merged together, the result is two main stories connected by contrivances. All things considered, Inglourious Basterds is one of Tarantino's least-focused films to date. The director has paid so much attention to the film's peripherals that he has neglected to provide a centre worth embracing. While one can appreciate and (to an extent) enjoy what Tarantino has achieved here, one must wonder if a more Dirty Dozen-style action film (tailored for Arnie and Sly, as originally intended) would have yielded a better overall experience.
5.4/10
