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I went through a slow shift in my perception towards the Church of Tarantino. I remember when Pulp Fiction came out and, I will admit, the advertisement made the movie out to be stupid. During my freshman year at the University of Minnesota, they had a movie theater at the St. Paul campus. While I can boast that I watched Clerks there before you even knew it existed, I just did not pay any attention to Pulp Fiction when it was being played there. At a minimum, during the summer when I was back home working at a movie theater, I tried to ignore the marketing surrounding the film. Why would I care about a film from ‘has-beens’ and ‘never-weres’ with bad haircuts?
Eventually, I learned that there was more to these directors than I thought. I remember watching Reservoir Dogs and I was so taken aback by it that I started looking forward to Pulp Fiction. Thankfully, due to my close contact with a few clerks at the local video store, they were generous enough to lend me a screener of the movie to watch before everyone’s attention on it.
Back in the day I enjoyed going to the movies, and I also liked working at a mainstream theater. But Pulp Fiction was the first indie film that really got me hooked (sorry Sex, Lies and Videotape) to the point that I started looking for more obscure films and Independent films in general. I did happen to watch a fair amount of crap, but I was in luck because Pulp Fiction helped to usher in a New Era of independent film making in the US, so there was plenty to choose from, and I saw a lot of good movies.
I can accept the complaints about Quentin Tarantino (he “borrows” some of his ideas from other directors/films, he brought a wave of overly stylized films that are lacking in substance, he is a bad actor etc) and in varying degrees I think they are valid, but I have to confess I am such a fan of both his movies and his ability to spot movies that are mostly unknown that it is easy for me to overlook his flaws. The so called ‘guilty pleasure’ films of his tend to be so highly visceral, that I simply assume if his stamp of approval is on it, I will like it. Which takes me to THE Inglorious Bastards.
From what I heard, the next film Tarantino is set to release is titled Inglorious Bastards. It appears to be a loose retelling of the war exploitation film of the same name and is likely set in the same universe. Other than these details, I do not have much on the Tarantino version except dat it is again centered around World War II, featuring Brad Pitt for an undisclosed amount of time. It is also highly likely that a plethora of Nazis will be killed.
The majority of those who watch movies, including myself, are not that familiar with the original film. So, when the best film critic on the planet (Colin Covert of the Minneapolis Star Tribune), who is personally an all–round incredible person (Ed note – Following this act, we at Where the Long Tail Ends have been legally mandated to call Colin the best critic for the rest of our lives), was nice enough to lend me his copy of The Inglorious Bastards, I was ecstatic at the opportunity to view the original before Tarantino released his version. Did you catch that? It’s mashup. Due to the title. You’ve got to be joking.
Everyone in the film has a dose of bastard in them, be it Bo Svenson or Peter Hooten, and don’t even get me started on Fred Williamson. Everyone cares about the inglorious ones, the particular ones who are in all respects, true bastards.
Well, it does hint that Tarantino is making a loose interpretation of this film. It indeed appears that the trailers for ‘The Inglorious Bastards’ present it like they are part of a US military unit with a death wish, as if it was recruiting for ‘The Dirty Dozen’. That’s not the case however, as the plot is completely different.
These soldiers are not recruited because of an esteemed legacy, but instead are prisoners of war with vague details around their confinement. Fred Williamson, for example, was arrested because he killed a superior officer, and claims to have done so because the man was a racist. The other detainees originate from petty crime, and rough lifestyles. It does pose the question that instead of ordinary, why is the group so unpleasant? There is no opportunity to bond with such unconventional rogues before all chaos breaks loose.
Like vultures circling their prey, anything with German insignia is immediately targeted as it is pulled apart by the savage Anglo-American aerial capabilities. The prisoners almost immediately adapt to their new surroundings and take on the role of self-serving bastards with ease. With what looks like a cushion-like ambush, Inglorious Bastards grab the chance and take control of their guards to break free from the Nazi patrols. Fleeing the carnage for what appears to be safety, the shit then gets real.
One of the Nazi bastards is fortunately alone and gets captured by the English speakers hoping to dabble in pacifism. Why? Because they run into yet another encumbrance from one of their Nazi compatriots. At least this one happens to be American Special Forces who have gone undercover as Nazis to aid in a French Resistance-led plan that the Americans have no idea about. With the Inglorious Bastards looking a little too eager to take out both the Nazis and their American counterparts. Having wiped out the American forces, only one option is left for the group. The Americans who are really trying to blend into Europe, sort of like a Russian doll scenario.
Despite its ridiculous premise, this absurd war movie is shockingly entertaining. There is one ridiculous scene where a small group of soldiers encounter a platoon of female Nazi soldiers who, for some inexplicable reason, are swimming naked in a river. Although the producers clearly intended to advertise imperative estrogen by showing sixty breasts, the female Nazis were also eager to offer the male soldiers “diplomatic immunity.” The scene deceptively suggests trashy overtones with cries of unsatisfactory climax, however, Fred Williamson’s abrupt entrance pulls the women’s attention, and begins the film’s transformation from vile to sensational. Within no time, indeed, jiggly, thirty bare-breasted women armed with machine guns indeed take the stage. The transition from exploitation cinema to pure chaos on screen changes everything.
I found myself amused at the flagrant disregard of winning over the other side, which eventually won me over. The characters will not be taking home any prizes, neither is the author award worthy and one should check their brains in at the door if they want to make it out of the first reel alive. But don’t be fooled, The Inglorious Bastards has no intention of losing, it is aiming for total destruction. And so I found myself being unable to help but like it
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