I had the pleasure of watching Inglourious Basterds last night. And, well, Wow. This is Quentin Tarantino’s latest masterpiece, and I don’t use that word lightly. You know, a lot of people would be pissed at the creative license he took with history on this one (wait til the end of the movie, you’ll understand) but not me. No, I’m not even a little mad.
Watching this movie is like watching something unfold before your eyes, maybe something you don’t fully understand but you know it’s well crafted, important, maybe even a little beyond you. It’s like good Opera—you might not know what that fat broad is singing about, but you’d be remiss not to slow down and think about it.
This movie identifies with that little piece of our (my) psyche that brushes up against the dark and imaginative , where Nazi’s are scalped, Jews are getting even, and the very human condition is examined. Oh, and Brad Pitt is kicking ass. Can’t forget the ass kicking.
Superb acting, with that over-the-top Tarantino signature touch: daytime soap meets high art. Every stroke of the brush more brilliant than the next. Go see this movie, trust me. Go see it.
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