I avoid writing reviews of new movies for many reasons, not the least of which is that everyone writes about the same movies at the same time. Would a blogger rather be one of a hundred reviews for the latest blockbuster or the only guy putting down his thoughts on Floods of Fear? I'll take the latter almost every time. Sometimes though I feel it necessary to express my opinion on a new film in a greater capacity than simply joining in the conversation on someone else's blog. This is one of those occasions. But there is another reason I don't do reviews of new movies often: They're so fresh it's hard to pin down what is spur of the moment exuberance and what is thoughtful, measured analysis. And so this will not be a review but an expression of my joy in seeing the cinema itself celebrated so cunningly and masterfully in a recent trip to the megaplex. The film is Inglourious Basterds and it's one dazzling piece of work.
Like I said in the first paragraph though, this isn't a review, this is an expression of joy tempered by a slight bewilderment. There are 214 reviews for Inglourious Basterds on Rotten Tomatoes, 188 positive, 26 negative. I have no idea what movie those other 26 critics saw. One of them is Manohla Dargis. I'm speechless. I've read complaints that parts of the film or perhaps the film as a whole is over the top and this is levelled against it as a criticism. As a fever-pitched celebration of the art of cinema itself I find this criticism as baffling as someone criticizing a musical for containing songs. If that's your criticism then somewhere between the opening and closing credits you missed the point. Severely. I find the sheer and blissful exuberance with which Quentin Tarantino, a non-favorite of mine for full disclosure's sake, shoots his film to be evidence enough that this film is less revenge fantasy and more a study in cinematic technique made whole by a filmmaker who has finally matured. How many filmmakers could mash up as many different aural and visual signatures and come away with a coherent and complete piece. The credits, the music cues, the visual tips of the hat would make for a chaotic mess if the overall style wasn't deeply ingrained in cinematic formalism. The long take and steady tripod-mounted camera compose the glue that holds the mash-ups together. Steady developments of character through dialogue and reaction assure that the formalism is complete and leave audiences too accustomed to the 17 second scene looking at their watches. Poor basterds. A lesser filmmaker would have adopted a quickly edited, hand-held camera style as a part of the mash-up. Tarantino isn't that stupid. He is more than aware for the mash-up to work, for the experiment to succeed, it needs to exist within the confines of standard cinematic continuity. One must subvert the system from the inside out, not haphazardly attack it from outside the lines. Tarantino subverts from within and succeeds mightily.
I know not everyone feels that way and certainly I have found myself as the minority opinion more times than I care to recall so I understand that those gentle souls are as baffled by my reaction as I am by theirs. I don't know what else to say. I just wish, deep in my heart and sincerely, that they could have seen the movie I saw. That's all.
