Quentin Tarantino is one sick guy.
As I viewed the denouement of his latest film, â€œInglorious Basterdsâ€ this evening, that was all I could think. What. A sick. Mofo.
Donâ€™t get me wrong. â€œBasterdsâ€ is a wonderful film. Stellar. 24 thumbs up. One does not at all feel its 153 minutes. This despiteno, this due toâ€”long running scenes of dialogue that areâ€”absolutely captivating. There is a scene that one thinks might become the whole of the movieâ€”and one would not mind if it did. The tension â€œBasterdsâ€ is capable of inflicting, it is lovely.
But while Tarantino brandishes a palette, he works with a grid. There is yet another storyline miracle in â€œBasterds,â€ somewhat like that in â€œPulp Fiction.â€ I donâ€™t want to ruin it for you. Because it is the notion that kicks it in the pants about this movie in the car on the way home.