Best in the Business
Inglourious Basterds (2009)
directed by Quentin Tarantino
rating: 5 out of 5 cravats
seen on the screen at Loews Waterfront 22
One way to articulate deprivation - in this case, of nourishment, sustenance, and indulgence - is in excruciating detail, akin to the starvation narrative of Knut Hamsen's Hunger. Most movies about war take this first route, reiterating the day-to-day sacrifices of ordinary citizens as a means of reminding us how awful it was in France under the Germans. But Quentin deserves as much credit for getting great performances out of pretty faces as he does for discovering an unknown German to play Hans Landa. Mélanie Laurent's involuntary reaction to eating whipped cream and sugary streusel for the first time since the war began - the unguarded expression of joy on her face in spite of her loathing for the monsters who provide the meal - says all you need to know about the things she's gone without.
There are so many wonderful details - that Laurent's character walks barefoot in the projection room, for one - and so little bloody mayhem, relative to everyone's expectations. I sit closer to movie screens than I used to; I like for the image to stretch all the way to the corners of my eyes. Everything about Inglourious Basterds, be it Brad Pitt, a basement tavern, or the love between Emmanuelle and Marcel, was bigger than even the first-run screen could manage, and reminder after reminder of the lovely truth that Quentin Tarantino has still not let me down. I hope he makes movies forever.
directed by Quentin Tarantino
rating: 5 out of 5 cravats
seen on the screen at Loews Waterfront 22
One way to articulate deprivation - in this case, of nourishment, sustenance, and indulgence - is in excruciating detail, akin to the starvation narrative of Knut Hamsen's Hunger. Most movies about war take this first route, reiterating the day-to-day sacrifices of ordinary citizens as a means of reminding us how awful it was in France under the Germans. But Quentin deserves as much credit for getting great performances out of pretty faces as he does for discovering an unknown German to play Hans Landa. Mélanie Laurent's involuntary reaction to eating whipped cream and sugary streusel for the first time since the war began - the unguarded expression of joy on her face in spite of her loathing for the monsters who provide the meal - says all you need to know about the things she's gone without.
There are so many wonderful details - that Laurent's character walks barefoot in the projection room, for one - and so little bloody mayhem, relative to everyone's expectations. I sit closer to movie screens than I used to; I like for the image to stretch all the way to the corners of my eyes. Everything about Inglourious Basterds, be it Brad Pitt, a basement tavern, or the love between Emmanuelle and Marcel, was bigger than even the first-run screen could manage, and reminder after reminder of the lovely truth that Quentin Tarantino has still not let me down. I hope he makes movies forever.
posted by NPK at 1:18 PM
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