Martin Felipe's 2009 Calvins Ballots

By Martin Felipe

March 2, 2010

As one can tell from my votes, I am a bit of an Inglourious Basterd. I'm one of those Generation X-ers who discovered the wonder of film right around the time Pulp Fiction was making its big splash. That's not to say that I didn't love the art form prior to that time. Like all of us of the MTV age, Star Wars is what weaned our love of the movies, but it was Pulp Fiction that turned that love into an appreciation.

We all know the clichés about Quentin Tarantino and his relationship with film students of the '90s, how he was the new Scorsese/Welles, how he was a video store clerk funneling his film passions into bold new work, how he solidified the growing indie film market that Soderbergh had created with Sex, Lies and Videotape. I can attest as one of those students that this was the scuttlebutt back in the mid-90s.

Thing is, after the Pulp Fiction explosion, Tarantino really didn't impress many of us any more. He started acting in films like Sleep With Me and Destiny Turns on the Radio to embarrassing reviews, his segment of the indie bomb Four Rooms was widely panned, his script for From Dusk Till Dawn became George Clooney's big screen debut, but pretty much broke even at the box office, he even hosted Saturday Night Live, further reinforcing his lack of skills in front of the camera.

I wasn't worried. All he had to do was direct another feature and he'd be back. Jackie Brown got some good reviews, if not the rapturous ones of Fiction, and decent box office, if not blockbuster level like Fiction. I was underwhelmed, I admit it. The dialogue was less snappy, the suspense less palpable, the structure less dizzying. Well, whatever, I thought. He didn't write the damned thing this time.

I know, many years later, Kill Bill inspired tons of passionate fans, but I was again less than enthused. Not a bad project by any means, but it didn't engage me like Fiction did. It was sufficiently kick ass, but the elements didn't stick with me like those of Fiction. It went in one eye and out the other.

Of course Grindhouse turned off many to Tarantino's verbosity. His Death Proof half of the double feature was talky even by Quentin standards. I was by no means the only one who preferred Planet Terror of the two, and I didn't even mind all of the blah-blah in Death Proof. I just didn't care. There were Tarantino's distinct fingerprints all over the damned thing, but they added up to a pretty dull sum. I was starting to think that Pulp Fiction, and Reservoir Dogs before it, were an initial burst of creative energy, but that Tarantino was now spent.

Of course, Tarantino had been threatening Inglorious Basterds for many years before it finally hit last year, but, for the first time, I really wasn't in the mood for one of his pics. I had a couple of good Tarantino films to watch, but his day was over, time to move on to other folks who seemed to have a greater shelf life.

For that matter, I wasn't so sure I wanted a new WWII movie. I'd seen the Schindler's Lists and The Pianists and the Saving Private Ryans. They're great movies, but they're the type of films that you tend to appreciate more than like. I wasn't really sure I wanted to see another examination of this horrific period in our recent past.

I was being silly. This was Quentin Tarantino. How could I have expected yet another dose of somber reflection over the holocaust horrors, or another celebration of the Allies' heroism?

I snuck into Basterds after having been blown away by District 9. I wasn't dreading it so much, but I was more excited by what I had just seen than by what was to come. I knew fairly early in my viewing that Tarantino was back and that I was seeing something really special, but, for the entire movie - and I'm about to spoil the ending, I've warned you - I was waiting for Shosanna and the Basterds' plan to take out the Nazi leadership to fail. After all, this is a fictional story, but it takes place in a very real war, and we all know Hitler didn't die in a burning movie theatre. Yet, in Inglourious Basterds he does. Tarantino had changed the end of WWII. Can he do that? Well, he did. The audacity!

This is the guy I had respected so much as a college student back in '94. For the first time in, wow, 15 years, Tarantino had lived up to the promise he had shown in Dogs and Fiction, in my eyes anyway, and I'm pretty cocky in my opinions. His dialogue didn't seem indulgent or boring like in Death Proof. The structure is unique, yet amazing in its effectiveness unlike Jackie Brown, the characters are compelling unlike in Kill Bill. It was as suspenseful as anything he had done before, the characters colorful, actors brilliant. Cristoph Waltz is of course the standout (I wasn't allowed to vote for him for both actor and supporting actor, much to my dismay), but Melanie Laurent, Diane Kruger and, yes, Brad Pitt are just killer as well.

It's also Hitchcockian, to compare him to yet another directing legend. Rear Window is often cited as being a movie about watching movies and Basterds is no different. Much has been written about the joke Tarantino plays on the viewer, first inviting us to look down on the Nazis for cheering when a German sniper mows down Americans in the propaganda film within the film. Then Tarantino invites us to cheer on the deaths of Hitler and his pals when Shosanna and the Basterds turn the tables on them. It is Tarantino who, in fact, turns the tables on us.

I know the Calvins awarded other films and, for that matter, there are many others I loved quite a bit. I'll give some of my other favorites a bit of lip service so as to not be entirely Basterds focused. Pixar did it yet again with Up, a brilliant film. Kathryn Bigelow went from being the director of Point Break to probable Best Director winner with her amazing Hurt Locker. I already raved about District 9. I was surprised at how much I loved The Hangover. I think Watchmen, though no Dark Knight type superhero classic, is better than most give it credit for. Both Up in the Air and Avatar are films I like fine, but they really aren't as good as having a best picture nomination would lead one to believe.

On the flip, I hated Transformers 2. Worst movie of the year, no contest. Also didn't like The Blind Side too much.

There you go. My ode to Inglourious Basterds with a little other honorable mention thrown in at the end. I'd have to do a whole other piece to really go into the other films in any great depth. But I'd rather go watch Basterds again.

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