An almost glorious movie

I liked it. Didn’t love it. I’d see it again, but I don’t think it would replace my top two favorite Quentin Tarantino movies. But I liked it. Liked it a lot.

I saw Inglourious Basterds last weekend. I thought it was very Tarantino-esque. Lots of violence, lots of squeamishness, lots of humor. I really enjoy the way he shot the movie*, and believe me, I don’t study directors like a film student would. Some of it was pure Tarantino. Some of it was somebody else Tarantino was impersonating or praising.

*The closeups – of the fabric of a Frenchman’s courderoy pants, the wide white eyes of a family hiding beneath another family’s floorboards, the wild-eyed expressions of a man killing dozens – were particularly enthralling.

Brad Pitt’s Tennessee accent was overly-acted, but appropriately so with a nod and a wink to the audience watching him. Mike Myers was Austin Powers imitating a British Army officer (again, with a knowing smile to the audience). The villianous Nazis were comically inept and boorish.

And then there was the final scene – a scene that sort of emerged from nowhere and featured a climax that could have turned a movie that you liked into a movie that you loathed.

I liked it. I just didn’t love it. It was Inglourious. Just not as Glorious as I hoped.

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