Sep 09 2009
Inglourious Basterds - Ritiland Reviews
So last night, Junk and I went to see Inglourious Basterds (both of which are SUPPOSED to be misspelled, I suppose. And in honour of that, I decided to write my paper in the same sense.) I was excited that another Tarantino movie was coming out. I can’t say that I’m a BIG fan - I do love most of his films, but haven’t seen all of them. Pulp Fiction is one of my favourites, Resevoir Dogs, Kill Bill, Death Race, etc. But this was a war film and I wasn’t sure what to expect, since war films are definitely not my favourite. I don’t typically like movies that take place around a war or are histourically based. I like Titanic, but that’s a different story. I was a silly 13 year old girl when I went to see that and it was sad and romantic and sexy and sad again and then had an old lady at the end. Where did she come from, btw? The whole movie has these two hotties that fall in love and hten this old lady has the gall to throw expensive jewelry off the side of ANOTHER ship? Jeez Louise. (Who IS that by btw?)
Anyway, Junk will tell you (and I insist that it’s part of my charm) that I’m difficult to watch a movie with. I get to whispering (or talking loudly, if we’re at home) about what’s going on and in turn, miss what was said while i was whispering and in turn again, have to whisper. It’s a cycle. I also doze off, even during a good movie like Watchmen… Around the 1.5 hour mark, I start getting tired and no amount of action, boobage, Johnny Depp or nudges from Junk can keep me awake. Or I’m checking my phone to see how much longer I have. I have things to do! Popcourn to throw away! Gum to pick off of my shoe!
But this movie… this was something else. From 4 minutes into the film until the very end, I was… enthralled. Enraptured. Ecstatic. Jaw-dropping dialogue. Brilliant acting. Suspense. Humour at every turn. Bloody graphics that made me cover my eyes and grope for Junk’s hand to squeeze, while he watched, enamoured. The opening 20 minutes are probably my favourite. Followed (closely) by… well, by the rest of the movie. You leave knowing you saw a Tarantino movie. You leave knowing you watched a masterpiece. You leave… wanting to kill some Nazis.
