![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Reel Life: Inglourious Basterds
Aug. 24th, 2009 01:08 amIn defense of Zack Snyder's Watchmen I have heard it said that the director was attempting to deconstruct the narrative and visual tropes of the traditional superhero movie, presumably in a manner similar to how Alan Moore's Watchmen deconstructed the superhero comic books of the time (if not comic books in general). I believe Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds operates on a similar premise, a war movie that is also about how war movies affect we the audience on both a cultural and psychological level.
Within the simple premise of an all american jewish commando team raising hell and hunting nazis behind enemy lines is a sort of mirror Tarantion holds up to the audience. If we look deep enough what we see is a statement about the power of cinema to satiate collective revenge fantasies in the audience that behold them (especially during a time of war). However art's power to fascinate us often lies in its ability to exaggerate that which it represents, as such the director's mirror here is of the fun house variety and the charm of the Basterds is in watching the dance of the distortions unfold. Invoking the spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone and facist-kitsch era David Bowie at times, a self-referential ouroboros emerges when two seperate (but complimenting) plots to kill Hitler in a french cinema during the premiere of a Gobel's produced propaganda war film (think a Third Reich treatment of Sgt. Yorke).
However I can see where this cinematic (and at times lovingly meticulous) taking apart of the metaphorical watch might pose a problem for the audience (along with the few critics I've read online so far). Watching the coming attractions for the Basterds and one can justifiably expect a 21st century update of The Dirty Dozen (a traditional action flick punched up with the staccato dialouge we've come to expect from Tarantio). When Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) drawls - "Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps... and I want my scalps!" - I can see how some in the audience might make a similar demand by the film's end.
While on the other hand I've heard a few people take offense to the films conclusion. Some believing that it cheapens (if not insults) the historical backdrop it represents, others finding the film's penultimate act in the before mentioned cinema far too over the top for common sense to absorb properly, a gesture so grandiose that it distracts the audience from the carefully constructed spell that preceded it.
I disagree.
The conclusion is in a way the magician revealing how the trick works. The artist points to the reflection embeded within his art and if you can look past the blood and flames that glitter across the surface, you will see how the war movie acts as a sublimation of the visceral desires inherent in the masses into socially acceptable and often feel good myths. A hyperbolic pop culture greek chorus that simultaneously awakens and placates the dionysian shadow trembling in the still post 9/11 America... and yet for all it's grand intentions is not afraid to laugh at itself.
The last line of the movie is something like Lt. Raine smiling: "This just might be my masterpiece". I don't know if that's the director's final wink at us or not, Mssr. Tarantino's way of sneaking himself into the film as he's done in past efforts of his (if he's in this one I didn't see him). While I must respectfully disagree with the good lt., if that is the case, (being not a critic but a fan I would have to give that paticular honor Reservoir Dogs while I understand most folks can present a tempting arguement for the same to be said of Pulp Fiction), I will applaud both the ambition and the result of the Basterds.
A taut and terse thrill ride, providing equal doses guilty pleasure and thoughtful reflection.
Within the simple premise of an all american jewish commando team raising hell and hunting nazis behind enemy lines is a sort of mirror Tarantion holds up to the audience. If we look deep enough what we see is a statement about the power of cinema to satiate collective revenge fantasies in the audience that behold them (especially during a time of war). However art's power to fascinate us often lies in its ability to exaggerate that which it represents, as such the director's mirror here is of the fun house variety and the charm of the Basterds is in watching the dance of the distortions unfold. Invoking the spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone and facist-kitsch era David Bowie at times, a self-referential ouroboros emerges when two seperate (but complimenting) plots to kill Hitler in a french cinema during the premiere of a Gobel's produced propaganda war film (think a Third Reich treatment of Sgt. Yorke).
However I can see where this cinematic (and at times lovingly meticulous) taking apart of the metaphorical watch might pose a problem for the audience (along with the few critics I've read online so far). Watching the coming attractions for the Basterds and one can justifiably expect a 21st century update of The Dirty Dozen (a traditional action flick punched up with the staccato dialouge we've come to expect from Tarantio). When Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) drawls - "Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred Nazi scalps... and I want my scalps!" - I can see how some in the audience might make a similar demand by the film's end.
While on the other hand I've heard a few people take offense to the films conclusion. Some believing that it cheapens (if not insults) the historical backdrop it represents, others finding the film's penultimate act in the before mentioned cinema far too over the top for common sense to absorb properly, a gesture so grandiose that it distracts the audience from the carefully constructed spell that preceded it.
I disagree.
The conclusion is in a way the magician revealing how the trick works. The artist points to the reflection embeded within his art and if you can look past the blood and flames that glitter across the surface, you will see how the war movie acts as a sublimation of the visceral desires inherent in the masses into socially acceptable and often feel good myths. A hyperbolic pop culture greek chorus that simultaneously awakens and placates the dionysian shadow trembling in the still post 9/11 America... and yet for all it's grand intentions is not afraid to laugh at itself.
The last line of the movie is something like Lt. Raine smiling: "This just might be my masterpiece". I don't know if that's the director's final wink at us or not, Mssr. Tarantino's way of sneaking himself into the film as he's done in past efforts of his (if he's in this one I didn't see him). While I must respectfully disagree with the good lt., if that is the case, (being not a critic but a fan I would have to give that paticular honor Reservoir Dogs while I understand most folks can present a tempting arguement for the same to be said of Pulp Fiction), I will applaud both the ambition and the result of the Basterds.
A taut and terse thrill ride, providing equal doses guilty pleasure and thoughtful reflection.
