Why don’t I give a shit about Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Bastards? Is it because I sat through (and even partially live-blogged) his masturbatory “lecture on cinema” in Cannes––is it just too soon? Is it because I’ve seen Pulp Fiction so many times that I can no longer actually see anything in it at all? Is it because I walked out of Grindhouse saying. “Well, THAT joke isn’t funny anymore…”?
I don’t know what it is! But I know that some of you probably care, so if you haven’t already, check out Vulture’s preview/review of the script.
Having read the whole thing, Vulture says it’s “definitely the ur-text of Quentin Tarantino’s career up to now,” and maybe THAT’s my problem with it––I don’t think I’d be able to get into one more parade of Stuff Quentin Likes, especially if its greatest virtue is that it’s like what he always does, but more so. Some keywords/key phrases that pop out: “Greek nudes from the Louvre”; “This whole Chapter will be filmed in French New Wave Black and White”; “the film’s antagonist [is] a Nazi officer named Landa who’s known as the ‘Jew Hunter’”; Brad Pitt will maybe play a “‘hillbilly from the mountains of Tennessee, who has around his neck a scar from where he survived a lynching.” Um…well, at least he’s expanded his purview beyond Los Angeles and Japan, right? Is that enough?
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