Selling Out
By Tom Macy
August 28, 2009
BoxOfficeProphets.com

Because you know everyone likes their liquor in a crystal cowboy boot.
What is it about Quentin Tarantino? He is one of the most recognizable directing brands in all of Hollywood, yet you barely need two hands to count the films he's made. Even curiouser, his celebrity never seems to fade regardless of how those films are received. The critical and commercial success of his last three efforts could be categorized as well-received to moderate and successful-but-below-expectations to outright bomb.

After making a splash by showing audiences that they enjoyed watching someone get their ear cut off to the music of Stealers Wheel, Tarantino tore an epic hole in the cinematic universe with Pulp Fiction. Pound-for-pound, it's still the most refreshingly original film of maybe the last 20 years and even could lay claim to inventing its own sub-genre. Think about how much so many films owe to Pulp Fiction.

But flash forward a full nine years to 2003. Pulp Fiction had faded into celluloid lore, while Jackie Brown, Tarantino's lone effort during that stretch, didn't so much as sniff the heights where Fiction rose. Surely the short attention spans of today's film audiences would greet Tarantino as, if not a one hit wonder, a decided has-been. Still, we all remember during the trailers before, oh let's say The Matrix Reloaded (shudder), when the words "The Fourth film by Quentin Tarantino" came across the screen, everyone perked up. Again I say, what is it about Quentin Tarantino?

But then two-film-kung-fu-spaghetti-western-Uma-Thurman-foot-fetish-fest (seriously his foot thing kinda grosses me out) that was Kill Bill spoiled Tarantino's assumed prodigal return greatness. While intermittent with genius (Lucy Liu's anime origin story, Michael Madsen), Kill Bill did not break out the way the Weinsteins and their sweaty, grubby hands hoped it would. It didn't destroy the world - like the aforementioned Reloaded - but it didn't change it, either.

Then enigmatic career of Tarantio went dark yet again for three years, resurfacing only for eyebrow-furrowing randomness. CSI? The Jimmy Kimmel Show? Then came 2007 and Grindhouse. This is where Tarantino and his schtick teetered most precariously with audiences and it looked like they had finally lost their patience. It was almost as if we all said, "I can't just wait around for you to show up every three to five years, I need more commitment than that!"

On a personal note, Instead of recounting my personal thoughts on Grindhouse, I've managed to pull up an email I wrote to a film podcast (Filmspotting, check it out) after I had heard the host's epileptic praise session of Tarantino and Death Proof. (Please forgive the contrived eloquence of a 23-year-old film nerd.)

"I will close by adding myself to what I'm sure is a growing list of people accusing you and all film critics of continuing to encourage Tarantino's schtick. Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed all of his films. I think Pulp Fiction was the closest thing to inventing a new genre within the last 20 years or so, maybe even earlier. However, I think that since Pulp, there hasn't been much original filmmaking going on. Kill Bill and Death Proof are attempts to recreate or pay tribute to some favorite genres of [Tarantino's] youth. Fine. But he doesn't take risks. Doesn't try anything new. And because of the tongue-in-cheek tone that flows throughout these films, the possibility of failure barely exists. No one is expecting anything but a good, raunchy, and ultimately forgettable time. Is that a genius, revolutionary filmmaker? Look, I enjoy it just as much as the next person. I just don't want to hear any more about Tarantino's brilliance and originality. There is much more important work being done. When discussing Tarantino, let's just try to keep things in perspective."

Ah, to be young. But I do stand by this. While I ended up having a blast with that car chase, watching those four girls sitting around the table talking about nothing was like listening to a chorus of Sand People. Tarantino and I were most definitely on the outs.

So given this, you'd think I'd have learned to stick to my guns and just roll my eyes at the sight of a marquee with Tarantino's font bigger than the title of the film, right? Heck, no. Not only did I eagerly anticipate Inglourious Basterds, but after the old scratched Universal logo alone, Tarantino and I were instantly back on. Seriously, what is it about him? Like that girl who treats you like crap until you finally get fed up and say "to hell with you," all she has to do is bat her eyes or, in Tarantino's case, make some obscure film references – Emil Jannings, awesome – and you're shelling out $12.50 faster than you can "check out the big brain on Brett. "

My first thought after walking out of Basterds was that email I referenced above. I would now like to officially state that as of this moment, my mouth is wide open and is containing my foot.

I don't know if I just got him this time, or if QT has matured. Maybe we've grown together. Whatever the reason, Inglourious Basterds, with a finale that I have no doubt is inciting spontaneous applause in theaters across the country, was one of the most extended satisfying rides I've had at the movies in a while. And after taking in $38 million its opening weekend and receiving tremendous word-of-mouth – currently nestled in at #35 on the IMDb top 250 – it looks like I'm not alone.

So finally, what is it about Quentin Tarantino?

Personally, I think the reason people are and always will be crazy for Quentin is that he has an uncanny ability to indentify, harness and bottle whatever it is that makes film lovers tick. And what was so great about Basterds was that he finally figured out how to pour it on just right. Unlike Grindhouse, all extended dialogue scenes, eventually, contributed to the plot. And also unlike Grindhouse, they were blissfully delightful. The card on the head guessing game. Mike Myers and the (brilliant) Michael Fassbender. The next Academy Award winner for Best Supporting Actor Christopher Waltz - along with Javier Bardem, Heath Ledger and now Christopher Waltz's Colonel Hans Landa, we are in a golden age of cinematic villains. Tarantino also managed to extract Brad Pitt's best performance since Snatch (no, I did not think he was good in Benjamin Button). And finally, thank heavens, we have a Tarantino movie without an awkward director cameo! Although, there was an awkward director – albeit not the director of this film - supporting role (sorry, Eli Roth).

But Roth's self-consciousness aside, Basterds was all the good of Tarantino with none of the obnoxiousness. He played the audience with the oldest, simplest trick in the book. Give them what they want. And he did. And oh man, was it good.

Now give us more and don't wait a freaking decade this time.