Eric M. Blake
“Once we’re in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin’ guerilla army, we goin’ be doin’ one thing—and one thing only: Killin’ Nazis. Now I don’t know ’bout y’all, but…I sure as h—l didn’t come down from the g——n Smokey Mountains, cross 5,000 miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily, and jump out of a f—kin’ airplane to ‘teach the Nazis lessons in humanity’! Nazi ain’t GOT no ‘humanity’! They’re the foot soldiers of a Jew-hatin’ mass-murderin’ maniac, and they need to be de-stroyed.”
In the interests of full disclosure, I should note that I wrote my Master’s Thesis on Quentin Tarantino, and if memory serves, I finished it just before the controversy over him and the police unions.
Impeccable timing, huh?
Well, I ended up fighting the good fight online, striving to make it clear to all those calling for boycotts how counter-productive it all was—how our side was doing exactly what we call the Left out for:
- Taking quotes out of context.
- Treating the wrong guy as the enemy.
- Destroying any chance of reconciliation.
The Right’s standing in the culture war took a major blow during those several months. We shot ourselves in the feet, and if our consistent pattern of assuming the worst about someone (from the “I Will Survive” incident to Chick-fil-A’s “betrayal”) is any indication, we still have yet to learn.
But I digress.
Before I go headlong into Inglourious, I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out how often Quentin drops a “moment” in a film of his that makes the conservative in me smile and nod with approval. Is he just the other Joss Whedon—a lefty who can’t help making conservative art? He once said, after all, “I guess I’m a liberal. Definitely not a conservative—I’m definitely not a Republican.” But then he added the caveat that his politics aren’t quite so simple as to be painted with a “roller” (and, for context, he’d said that while Bob Dole—trying to gain some conservative credentials—was going on about violent cinema).
At any rate, in True Romance (which Tarantino wrote but didn’t direct), the hero, Clarence (whom Quentin has often noted is essentially a self-portrait) states at one point that, as the week’s events have taught him, “It’s better to have a gun and not need it than to need a gun and not have it.” Years later, in Quentin’s own Death Proof, he has a group of girls discuss the morality of owning and carrying a gun, with the pro-gun girl being proven right, later on. (The exchange is so good Dana Loesch even transcribed it in her book Hands Off My Gun.)
Furthermore, Pulp Fiction (perhaps my favorite film of all time) has Samuel L. Jackson, in the finale, beautifully dismantle the leftist apologetic for crime, which claims it’s society’s fault, not the individual’s. Similarly, Jackie Brown has some absolutely golden lines about race relations that I won’t spoil, in case I write about that one later on. Stay tuned.
And lest you ever think that, despite all that, Quentin somehow hates cops, pick up a copy of his original screenplay for Natural Born Killers and compare it to Oliver Stone’s finished film. Pay attention to who are the villains, and who are the anti-heroes.
I could go on and talk about Sheriff Earl McGraw and his son, recurring Tarantino characters in countless flicks he worked on. But, you know, I’ve long argued against the “Quentin’s a cop-hater” nonsense until I was blue in the face. No pun intended. The point is, we’ve got better things to discuss. So…
Let me warn you all, dear readers, that there are major SPOILERS to come. Of course, one of the most famous things about this film is the ending. Still, don’t say you haven’t been warned.
WHY IT’S A CONSERVATIVE FILM:
For that Master’s Thesis of mine, I essentially took a hard look at whether Quentin’s works promoted a consistent worldview, and, if so, what was it? My conclusions unveiled a surprisingly straightforward moral universe.
I know. It’s hard to believe at first glance—especially considering how often Tarantino makes criminals the protagonists. But the truth is, his films posit an objective morality—a universal standard that transcends race, gender, society, time period, etc. This became especially apparent in his “revenge film” era—from Kill Bill to Django Unchained. As I wrote, it was no coincidence that this era of his repertoire came about in the post-9/11 world, as America—for a time, anyway—regained a sense of moral footing after the somewhat relativistic pragmatism of the Clinton era.
This universal standard is already “small-c” conservative. But the very concept of revenge, I noted, is inherently a very Libertarian mindset—you can’t trust the government to right the wrongs of your life; you have to get up and do it yourself.
But Inglourious Basterds brings all those ideas into full-fledged “big-C” Conservatism. For here, revenge—sprouting out of the notion of a clear “wrong” that must be set “right”—is sanctioned by the United States government. And the heroes are authorized to right said wrong by any means necessary.
Shades of Jefferson and Sherman:
In 1801, Thomas Jefferson sent the Marines to Tripoli to out-terrorize the Islamic terrorists of his day. Sixty years later, General Sherman marched to the sea, burned Atlanta, and essentially broke the Confederacy, terrorizing them into surrendering. In modern times, President Trump broke ISIS with the Mother Of All Bombs.
These tactics are echoed by Lt. Aldo “Apache” Raine:
“We will be cruel to the Germans—and through their cruelty, they will know who we are—and they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us! And the German won’t be able to help themselves, but imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands—and our boot heels—and the edge of our knives! And the German will be sickened by us—and the German will talk about us—and the German will fear us, and when the German closes their eyes at night—and they’re tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done? It will be with thoughts of us that they are tortured with. SOUUUUUUUUUUUND GOOD?!”
Yes, sir.
There is no time or room for arbitrary “rules of war” that our enemies somehow refuse to observe without consequence. Raine and Co. have their hands tied by nothing. They have one agenda, and one alone: create terror among the enemy ranks so as to break them and help ensure the Allies an easier victory. And considering how his eight original members are all Jewish, it’s a clear case of “out-terrorizing those who terrorize us.”
(Especially relevant with the current conflict with Hamas, isn’t it?)
“But that’s not Who We Are!”
Ah, shaddap.
Enhanced Interrogation—On Steroids:
Early on, Lt. Raine demands that three survivors of an attack tell the location of the other German regiment in the area. Sgt. Werner Rachtman refuses, leading to the legendary intro to Sgt. Donny “Bear Jew” Donowitz.
(Seriously. Who doesn’t dream of this happening to the head of Hamas?)
This whole sequence, along with the rest of the crew’s “atrocities,” is played up as “cool.” We applaud their actions, and we cheer them on because we are meant to understand that their actions are par for the course in fighting evil.
Jack Bauer would be pleased.
You’re Either With Us Or With The Nazis:
No matter how “sweet” or sympathetic a German soldier in the film may be, so long as he refuses to join the fight against the Reich, he is worthy of death. No exceptions.
The clearly noble and courageous Sgt. Rachtman, who accepts a humiliating and painful death rather than rat out fellow Germans? Still worthy of death. The awkwardly sweet Private Zoller, who falls for Shoshanna and wants her to look past his uniform? Still worthy of death (and as it turns out, he’s got a dark side after all). And even a poor soldier who’s just become a father and just happened to hold his party in the wrong place at the wrong time? Sad, but his death’s gotta happen.
In the meantime, there are two “good” German characters of note—Brigitte von Hammersmark, a German actress who’s spying for the British, and, of course, Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz, the laconic rogue German warrior who waged a one-man war against the Gestapo before being rescued from death row by Raine’s crew:
All the others? Well, they’re all fair game. Blow ’em all away or scalp ’em. They got it coming.
Analogies To The War On Terror:
Again, it’s a post-9/11 war film released just around when the Obama administration was going around self-righteously “investigating” the “atrocities” of our intelligence community’s interrogation methods because “That’s Not Who We Are.”
Inglourious also came out the year after The Hurt Locker ended the long string of Iraq-War films that openly politicized and trashed not only the War but even our troops. In 2008, Kathryn Bigelow proved that a war film that didn’t take sides would not flop. In 2009, Tarantino went one step further—whether he knew it or not. (It’s hard to believe he wouldn’t, but then, George Orwell apparently was that kind of slow.) As the great Andrew Klavan pointed out, it would’ve been interesting if Quentin had used the Taliban instead of Nazis.
But maybe it’s for the better that he didn’t. For, as I said in the intro to this series, lefties love to hate Nazis. The thing is, though, if you approve of Raine and Co. using those methods against the Reich, what about Al-Qaeda? Or ISIS? Or Hamas?
“But that’s different?”
Oh…?
“Yeah, the Nazis were evil—they had it coming!”
…And?
“They…they were engaging in race hatred, and—and genocide, and…and they wanted to take over the world, and…uh…”
Well…?
As Quentin once noted to Craig Ferguson, he was free to do whatever he wanted to Nazi characters because they’re perhaps the one enemy from whom “we don’t want to hear ‘their side.'”
Those were the days.
For Bonus Points:
Lt. Aldo Raine is a nice little gem for Conservatives, too, especially those of us sick and tired of the “stupid clumsy hillbilly” stereotype—the “bull in a china shop” American hick who waddles around the foreign country he’s touring, embarrassing himself and his (our) country in the process. You know, the personification of American “arrogance,” the filmmaker’s way of apologizing to the world for the U.S. “bossing countries around,” and so forth.
Well, Raine does have some goofiness, to be sure—and of course, he can’t pass for an Italian to save his life. But to be fair, he’s thrown into that situation out of sheer desperation, with time of the essence. (He himself admits it isn’t the most foolproof plan in the world). Meanwhile, in his own assignment, he’s fully in his league—a man among men and a leader, very successful at what he does. And, of course, his concerns about the location of a certain meeting are all too warranted—and he’s sadly proven right with the plan left in shambles.
By the way, this Southern good old boy has the scar of a rope around his neck. Supposedly, the character’s backstory involves him fighting Klansmen and surviving a lynching for his trouble. “Not all Germans were Nazis,” and not all Southerners were racists.
And by the way, in an era in which lefties and would-be lefties seem to think it’s cool to hate Jews again, Quentin’s got them as the heroes. No apology.
Finally, during the climax of the film, none other than Hans Landa, in the middle of his bravado, invokes the words “National Socialist.” The words no leftist likes to admit form the roots of “Nazi.”
National Socialist.
Just for that, Quentin Tarantino has my thanks.
WHY IT’S A GREAT FILM:
I have to admit, it took me a while to accept this film.
I mean, I loved most of it the first time I saw it. But it was the ending that left a weird taste in my mouth, especially considering how the two groups of heroes—Lt. Raine’s crew and Shoshanna’s—never truly meet, let alone interact. Call me crazy, but I tend to prefer Aristotle’s unity of plot, at least in how the storylines culminate in the end. This film just brought them together by a coincidence of location.
Still, watching this film again—and again—helped me get past that. And in the end, that one flaw—if it is a flaw—pales in comparison to the qualities of greatness in Inglourious. Not the least of which, of course, is…
The Incomparable Opening:
“Once upon a time…in Nazi-occupied France…”
Quentin Tarantino begins with a stylistic homage to Sergio Leone’s westerns, right down to Ennio Morricone’s music amid a set of perfectly crafted shots of the French landscape, leading to a suspense-filled sequence, filled with close-ups of seemingly random actions and reactions all making the audience overflow with uncertainty as to exactly what Col. Landa’s game is.
Until that is, the camera pans down underneath the floorboards, and we discover that the farmer is, in fact, hiding the Jewish family in question.
With that, the tension mounts…and mounts…and mounts. Will Col. Landa find out? Does he even suspect? The conversation certainly seems very casual and easy-going…but then—we all realize it was to subtly prod the farmer into giving himself away. Further, there was a reason that Landa asked if they could switch to English—and the suspense, with that, turns to dread.
It’s pure Hitchcock—with the exception, of course, of the proverbial bomb going off. But the ending of the sequence is more horror than anything else (as the score beautifully underlines), and that being the case, Quentin is forgiven for breaking that rule.
Besides, it’s the beginning of the film, so it’s acceptable. And it masterfully sets up Quentin’s master villain, whom he himself noted, is perhaps the greatest character he ever wrote.
The Magnificent Christoph Waltz:
As a two-time Oscar-winner for Best Supporting Actor, both times for his performance in a Tarantino film, it was inevitable Waltz would be the modern-day incarnation of Ernst Stavro Blofeld in the criminally underrated Spectre*. Charisma radiates from Waltz, such that I defy you to look away when he’s on screen. He is eloquent, debonair, endlessly charming, and naturally, when a villain, immensely intimidating.
But what kind of villain is Hans Landa? In his introduction, he claims to love his “unofficial title” of “The Jew Hunter,” as he says, “precisely because I’ve earned it.” And yet, when Lt. Raine brings up the nickname, Landa seems quite defensive, calling it “just a name that stuck,” and something he had no control over.
At first viewing, I believed his initial claim, taking him for a Hannibal-Lector-esque archvillain who loves being an archvillain, reveling in it amid his self-awareness. But his latter claim…confused me.
Upon re-watching, I understood. Recall he clearly doesn’t believe any of the Nazis’ propaganda; as such, he notably deconstructs their anti-Semitism in his introduction:
Rather, Landa is a completely amoral pragmatist. He goes where the wind blows, working for whoever will use his skills best. Meanwhile, he’s a master detective who lives for a challenge—and being amoral, he finds hunting Jews for the Reich a beautiful challenge. Until, at some point, he discovers that the defeat of Germany is inevitable.
As for that thrill, he delights in finding worthy opponents in his constant battles of wits. Those paying attention will notice how frustrated he looks when someone fails his “tests”—giving themselves away with a bad slip-up or just plain neglecting to keep their cool.** But when he confronts Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent) and essentially lets on that he knows her identity, he spares her precisely because she passes his test, giving him no “proof.”
Details Of A Strudel:
Throughout the aforementioned sequence, we feel the tension charged in the question: Does Landa suspect Shoshanna’s identity? Will she give herself away?
This scene is a golden example of a filmmaker respecting his audience. In and of itself, it “works” in the sense that it is charged with suspense and has the payoff of relief. But if one is aware of the reasons for certain details and the meaning behind them, one’s enjoyment is enhanced even more.
Some are fairly obvious. For example, Landa makes it a point to order an espresso for himself and a glass of milk for Shoshanna. This all but confirms that, yes, he does indeed suspect her (at least) and means perhaps to watch her reaction. She responds with outward amusement—passing the test, for now.
He also orders strudels for them and then makes a point to emphasize that she wait for the cream. A common interpretation is that, in one way or another, the combination is not kosher, and, therefore, this is Landa’s ultimate test to see if she is willing to violate her faith to keep from giving herself away without so much as a flinch of visible guilt.
After the cream arrives, we see Shoshanna initially cut off a piece untouched by it. But then, as if suddenly making her decision, she spreads on some cream. After eating the piece, she reacts only with closed eyes and a sigh—a universal reaction, just as easily an expression of satisfaction as of guilt. Landa accepts it and goes on with the conversation, watching her face less than before.
Until the very end, when after giving her a (notably German) cigarette, he adds, “I did have something else I wanted to ask you….” He stares at her firmly for a moment…and then shrugs, “But right now, for the life of me, I can’t remember what it is.”
And with that, he lets her go. She passed.
More On The Power Of Detail:
This movie is filled, in fact, with the sorts of details that enrich the experience for someone “in the know.” For example, in the introduction, Landa smokes a pipe (a somewhat exaggerated “Sherlock Holmes” calabash). Tarantino has noted that this is at once an indication of the colonel’s “immature” side (“my pipe is bigger than yours”) and also a deliberate link to Holmes (“I’ve deduced that you’re lying, as Holmes would”)—a piece of theater, to link to the farmer and his pipe. However, others have pointed out that Nazi Germany was one of the first cultures to discourage smoking, as unhealthy. Thus, it’s also a confirmation of Landa’s willingness to defy Nazi conventions (as if just to “make a point”) and, potentially, a foreshadowing of his actions in the climax.
Furthermore, Shoshanna’s line about the French making a point to respect directors “foreshadows” the New Wave writers’ first establishing Auteur Theory.
Hugo Stiglitz’s knife bears a German inscription that translates loosely into “My duty is to my honor”—an indication that his own sense of morality had driven him to rebel against the Nazis.
And of course, there are details that seem meaningless at first but are pointed out later, such as how one gestures “three” in Germany. And, of course, it’s these “little things” that lead the heroes to the brink of complete disaster, missing such details as Brigitte’s shoes and autograph being left behind in the “rubble.”
The Suspense Of Language:
One of the conceits of war films of the past involves all the characters speaking the same language. When we’re with German characters, they speak English under the conceit that they’re “actually” speaking German, but apparently, audiences don’t want subtitles.
Every once in a while, there’s an exception. But as Tarantino himself noted, it gets to the point where a film like Where Eagles Dare involves an undercover operation where Americans infiltrate the German ranks and seemingly are masters of the language, the accents, and everything—because everyone’s speaking English anyway. Alas, he’s pointed out, that actually takes away a great opportunity for suspense in which we, the audience, wonder if these spies can really pull it off, or if their accents might slip, or something worse.
Well, Inglourious embraces that opportunity with its use of French, English, German, and Italian. There are no excuses and no place to hide. And the film is all the better for it.
A Monument To Cinema:
Quentin Tarantino is a cinephile’s cinephile. Appropriately, his biggest job before making movies was as a video store clerk. (Remember those?) Thus, his films come packed with references—through character conversations or even homages—to films of the past. In this case, Inglourious honors the history of the industry itself.
Lt. Hicox (the brilliant Michael Fassbender) was a film critic before the War (and his name might even be a slight nod to “Hitchcock”). Indeed, it’s the “levtenant’s” expertise on German cinema that leads to his assignment with Lt. Raine’s crew. Goebbels’s role as head of the German film industry is emphasized, as well—after all, his Ministry of Propaganda wasn’t just limited to anti-Semitic pamphlets.
Meanwhile, of course, there are the plot points of Shoshanna’s cinema, the propaganda film starring Private Zoller as himself, the German actress Bridget von Hammersmark (the lovely Diane Krueger), Shoshanna’s weapon of nitrate film reels, and her own mini-film to proclaim her vengeance.
For the analytical among us, Quentin even posits through a “game” sequence his theory of King Kong and its parallels to slavery. And a few minutes later, there’s a darkly humorous argument on what constitutes a Mexican standoff.
Return Of The “Fun” War Film:
After a long, long period of dramatic, serious, oftentimes gut-wrenching war films emphasizing darkness and the sacrifices of those in uniform, it was admittedly a very nice change of pace to finally get another war film that’s more entertaining than anything else. It’s the sort of classic “bunch of guys on a mission” film that we hadn’t really seen since, perhaps, Three Kings (assuming that one even counts). Inglourious comes in the grand tradition of The Dirty Dozen, The Guns Of Navarone, and many a WWII film made during said war. (Rogue One comes to mind as a more recent example, by the way. But I digress.)
Aldo Raine comes across as akin to the kind of character John Wayne would have played back in the day, with the swagger and easy confidence in himself and his men. Add a heavy “hillbilly” accent and Tarantino’s trademark wackiness, and you have Brad Pitt’s “Bawn Jor-no!”
Speaking of humor, tell me you didn’t snicker during Hugo Stiglitz’s introduction sequence.
The Ending:
All right, the ending, which, as I said, struck me from the beginning as…weird. Of course, we all know what, in real life, actually happened to Hitler. And in this film, something completely different happens. Shoshanna has her revenge on the Reich, avenging all of Israel in the process. And Raine’s crew has their part—directly killing Hitler and Goebbels. No anti-climactic suicides in a bunker after a long and grueling campaign of the Allies through Europe.
I wasn’t sure how to take this the first time I saw it. After a while, though, it grew on me.
Let’s be perfectly honest. How many times in movies have we seen fictional characters doing things in period films that, “in real life,” would’ve affected the course of history? (Gladiator, anyone?) And yet we accept them for the simple reason that none of it happened so directly—or, at least, so recently. All Quentin did here is pull back the pretenses.
This is the ultimate WWII “mission” film, with the ultimate mission and the ultimate end. And while we’re at it, the proponents of the Holocaust suffer vengeance by those who most deserve to inflict it. Not surprisingly, you can pretty much expect any Jewish film-lover you meet to gush about how much they love this film—and rightfully so.
And incidentally, the entire reason for history changing so much in this film is one Col. Hans Landa—one of the great villains of movie history—successfully taking advantage of Shoshanna’s need for revenge and Raine’s own plans so as to escape the War scot-free.
“So, gentlemen…what shall the history books read?”
Well…almost scot-free. For in the end, Landa was responsible for terrible things. And for all his plans and bravado, he does get justice done to him.
“Y’know somethin’, Utivitch? Ah think this jus’ might be my masterpiece.”
By the way…
Some trivia notes: The hands in the close-ups of Brigitte getting strangled are actually Tarantino’s, as Waltz was a bit too much of a gentleman to be willing to make it look realistic.
Quentin’s main cameo, however, is the close-up of the dead Nazi we see getting scalped early on. We also hear his voice during the propaganda film, saying, “I implore you, we must destroy that tower!”
There’s a Wilhelm Scream in that film, amusingly enough.
Said film-within-a-film is actually directed by modern horror director Eli Roth, who also plays Sgt. Donny “Bear Jew” Donowitz. Hilariously, the DVD has Eli give a “behind-the-scenes” look at his “feature” in character as a German director under Goebbels!
The OSS general who talks over the phone to Landa and Raine is veteran gangster actor Harvey Keitel, who’s one of Quentin’s favorite actors to work with.
And yes, the “narrator” is Samuel L. Jackson.
This film got Quentin his second Oscar for Best Original Screenplay after Pulp Fiction.
*Interesting note: Quentin himself noted that, say what you will, Spectre “felt like a Bond film!”
**This, actually, helps answer the question: Why does Landa strangle Brigitte? It’s not as though he hates traitors—he’s about to become one. More likely, it’s that, as far as he’s concerned, the mistakes that gave her away were so stupidly easy to detect.
Buy the movie here. And stay Cultured, my friends.
Any recommendations for films to make the series? Read the rules here, and let us know!