At first it seems as if Inglourious Basterds is going to follow in Pulp Fiction’s narrative footsteps; the film is divided into chapters that initially seem disconnected. Basterds however, offers a more linear narrative and its structure is not so much episodic as it is patient. Not until the fourth chapter of five does Tarantino begin to pull the separate threads together. By the time we reach the final chapter and all the main players are gathered in one room together, the payoff is even bigger after such a gradual build. Tarantino resists intercutting the storylines, allowing scenes the time to build on their own terms, and giving each scene a greater dramatic impact. Without cutting away to another scene, there is no break in tension and we get to watch a scene slowly simmer before it boils over.
The opening scene is an excellent example this, setting the film’s pace with a long dialogue scene between high-ranking Nazi Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) and a French farmer (Denis Menochet). The dialogue here crackles with tension as Landa takes his time with pleasantries before getting down to business. Also impressive is how this scene, as well as many others in the film, is not only dialogue-driven, but primarily subtitled. As it was in Nazi-occupied France, characters move between French, German and English depending on the setting and company. As the scene gradually unravels, we learn the purpose of Landa’s visit to the farm: to learn the whereabouts of a Jewish family that has been eluding the SS for months. Christoph Waltz, a relatively unknown Austrian TV actor, commands attention from his first moments onscreen, remaining calm throughout his investigation and relishing the tense silence. There is an immediate understanding that this is an intelligent man very good at his job, and his performance retains this foreboding presence throughout the film.
After an impressive opener, the film introduces the Basterds, a rogue troop of Jewish-American soldiers led by Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt brandishing a Southern accent and some fine comedic timing) whose goal is to instill fear in the Nazis by brutally killing every German soldier they come across. Oh yeah, and scalping them too. The Basterds’ storyline is the stylistic heart of the movie, indulging in flashbacks, montages and even a brief narration by Samuel L. Jackson. Though Tarantino pulls out all his best tricks here, the stylization never eclipses the scenes’ intent. He has great fun with the Basterds but never overdoes anything. As for the scalping, it’s all part of Tarantino’s endless cinematic invention. His characters exist in a self-aware movie world where such things are just a fact of war.
Finally, the movie introduces us to the other major player, French cinema-owner Shosanna Dreyfus, and Tarantino’s requisite strong female character (there’s actually two in this movie). Dreyfus is hiding her Jewish heritage under an alias, but after earning the affection of German soldier Frederick Zoller (Daniel Brühl, Good Bye Lenin!), she finds herself in a unique position both dangerous and influential. The details of what happens next need not be discussed here. The fun of Inglourious Basterds is the way it unspools in surprising directions and weaves its characters’ paths together.
This being a Tarantino film, Inglourious Basterds features great music, albeit less prominently featured than in the director’s previous movies. The soundtrack is often submerged in the background, comprised largely of scores from spaghetti westerns, with the exception of a well-placed Bowie song. It’s all part of Tarantino’s restraint as a director, keeping the focus on a given scene’s action.
Those expecting a historical depiction of WWII should be warned: the war is used only as a backdrop for Tarantino’s story. He is much more interested in the culture-clash dynamics that result when one country occupies another than he is in combat action, and while the film has its share of violent moments, none occur on the battlefield. Tarantino uses history to tell his story rather than the other way around and to say that he takes a liberty or two with historical accuracy is an exercise in understatement. This is a revenge story uninterested in creating a sympathetic view of the Nazis and it plays by its own rules.
Inglourious Basterds combines the inventive stylization and offbeat humor of Pulp Fiction with the maturity and restraint of Tarantino’s underrated Jackie Brown, while also adding a newfound sense of ambition that allows the film to reach heights previously unseen by the director. If this isn’t Tarantino’s best film, it easily stands alongside his best, and he knows it too. He all but calls the film his masterpiece twice, but when a director’s self-assuredness works this well, his cockiness only adds to the film’s charm.
- Steve Avigliano, 9/1/09
