Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds: Why Does a Review Have To Be a Pick OR a Pan? Why Not Both?

I went to see Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds over the weekend with two friends, both of whom walked out of the theater furious and ready to strangle Mr. Tarantino, myself, or each other. They were riled up, let me tell you. I also had to endure one of those friends’ persistent (involuntary, he claims) sighs throughout, and the other friend claimed he had fallen asleep at times. Further, there was at least one idiot stranger in the theater who loudly offered up some keen witticisms during quiet moments in the film, like “DAMN!” Yet in spite of all this negativity and frustration around me I did NOT hate the picture. Granted, I didn’t really like it either, but my middle-of-the-road opinion really seems to put me in the vast minority, as critics line up to either file a love-letter, or a no-holds-barred excoriation. Just perusing the different (wildly different!) reviews on Rotten Tomatoes could make you feel like Harvey “Two-Face” Dent. It seems that most critics are just as ardent as my ranting, raving friends, and/or the "damn!" fanboy who unfortunately very nearly ruined the movie by...adding his own soundtrack.

So it is with sadness that I report that I can’t pick a side. I would love to give a heated review – pro OR con – but I can’t muster up the proper passion in either direction. There were parts that I really liked a lot – huge long scenes full of tension and crackling dialogue and wonderful acting. There were visually wonderful moments, great moments of broad comedy, some big, huge entertaining performances (Christoph Waltz as Nazi Col Hans Landa being the prime example) as well as some understated, lovely performances (like Melanie Laurent as fugitive Jew Shosanna Dreyfus). On the flip side, there was some horrific, needless nastiness (I guess that’s par for the Tarantino course) some vast stretches of boredom, a general queasiness about what the film itself is saying, and some absolutely atrocious performances (Brad Pitt in the nominal “lead” is hard to watch, but Eli Roth absolutely steals the dumb show by being an insanely, heinously, pitiously bad actor).

Part of the problem is that the good piled on top of the bad -- inseparable and jumbled. Wonderful moments were regularly ruined by leading nowhere, enough empty moments accumulated to create boredom, only to be followed by a tense, taut, flawless scene that would grab you and not let go for what felt like an eternity. Wonderful, lived-in characters were never developed, and stood side-by-side in the frame with huge ridiculous monstrous characters shamelessly mugging to the cheapest seats. Clever, creative ideas about the nature and character of film itself were hamfistedly executed. I laughed with the theater; I sighed with my friend.

So did the good ultimately outweigh the bad? Did those cartoonishly bad performances detract from the glistening ones? Did the diamondlike moments of perfectly calibrated tension get undercut by the snoring wind whistling across the wide, wild plains of boredom?

Um...maybe? Yes and no? Meh? How terrible a review is this? I can’t even say how strange I feel coming down squarely on the fence of a love-it-or-hate-it movie! I can always concoct a strong opinion – usually a violently strong opinion – about ANYthing, be it small or massive. Perhaps the most damning criticism I can level at Inglourious Basterds is that I just didn’t really care about it enough to generate any opinion, strong or otherwise. That in and of itself might be the ultimate pan.

"The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo:" Maybe Martin Was Right After All

While I started “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo” three weeks ago, I had to put it aside as the Chicago Public Library was breathing down my neck about returning the overdue “The Devil and the White City” (without wanting to give too much away, both books have more in common than I initially would have thought). I didn’t mind putting down “Girl,” however, because while the first 100 pages moved quickly, there was a lot of set-up and I had to frequently consult the family tree located at the beginning of the book to determine who was related to whom. That being said, if you don’t like spending a lot of your reading time trying to differentiate among a neverending flow of Bergers, Birgers, Nillsons, and Gerdas, this book probably isn’t for you.

But I persevered, and as Martin had promised me, things kickstarted after 170 pages. A lot of times I don’t enjoy contemporary mysteries because so much attention is paid to analyzing forensics (I’m looking at you Patricia Cornwall and “CSI”). “Girl” refreshingly contains nothing but good old fashioned detective work, where the two sleuths (the dreamy but complicated Mikael and the edgy and SUPER complicated Lisbeth) slog through leads, make analytical leaps, and arrive at conclusions. I am also a big fan of what I like to call the “solving the forty year-old crime” subgenre (see “Case Histories,” “The Thirteenth Tale,” “In the Woods,” “Sharp Objects” or any mystery I read) and “Girl” has a doozy with the mysterious disappearance of Harriet Vanger, which unlocks more mysteries before the novel’s end.

Martin compared this book to other page-turners like "Jurassic Park" and "The Silence of the Lambs," and I think this is unfair. For one thing, this book presents a host of big ideas, on sexual abuse’s lingering effects, revenge, Europe’s role in World War II, journalistic ethics, and is able to do so (for the most part) by deftly weaving them into the story or the character’s psychological makeup. There’s nothing heavy handed (okay, maybe one instance) about it, whereas in Crichton’s novels the character’s sole purpose is to lecture about genetic recombination or Japanese business practices. Maybe "The Silence of the Lambs" comparison is apt, but I would still argue that Larsson imbues his characters with a complexity that is rare in mass market thrillers.

My one quibble is that the last 100 pages of the novel can only be described as Grishamesque (so maybe Martin did have a point about comparing it to other popular page-turners). The book’s financial fantasy end seems to be out of place with the grim proceedings of the prior 360 pages, and while it didn’t totally put me off the book, I often felt like I was reading “The Swedish Firm.” But maybe it’s all set-up for the next two books, so what do I know?

Martin aptly pointed out the characters’ propensity for putting on a pot of coffee at every imaginable point, and yes, if there is ever a Zucker Brothers parody of “Girl,” there will be a Starbucks counter installed in every character’s house/cabin/torture chamber. Also, Martin, it's already a movie.

South Pacific: Classic Music, Modern Twists, Broadway Magic!

I recently returned home from a wonderful week in New York City, and halfway through that week I decided (it was not a difficult decision), that no week in The Big Apple would be complete without a trip to the Great White Way. My theatre friends told me to see God of Carnage, but the whole production is on "summer vacation" (!?) so I went (I admit, happily) to Plan B: the semi-recent revival of South Pacific, which won a boatload of Tonys last year.

I admit (again, happily) that I am a huge fan of musical theater, especially the classics from the golden age of musical theater -- I am also married, remember -- and South Pacific is justifiably renowned for having one of the great musical scores of all time. Basically every song is a huge, famous, instantly-recognizeable smash hit; the original production ran, presumably without a summer break, from 1949 until 1954. Yet for all that success, it has never until now been revived on Broadway since that original staging. It's admittedly a tricky show to bring up-to-date, featuring both progressive themes of racial tolerance and equality, and some possibly outdated portrayals of the native populations of those South Pacific Islands.

ANYWAY. The show was great. Really great. Paulo Szot, who won one of those aforementioned Tonys last year for his portrayal of the "Some Enchanted Evening"-singing Frenchman, Emilie De Becque, really carried the show in a relatively simple, somewhat sketchy role. My man can belt it out. He was a treat. Also especially worthy of special mention was Danny Burstein, in the "comic relief" role of womanizing sailor Luther Billis, who methodically stole scene after scene. Rumbling around the stage like the burly lovechild of Nathan Lane, Bert Lahr, and all Three Stooges (is this way too gay?), he absolutely killed it. Even I -- not necessarily the biggest fan of broad comic mugging -- loved the guy. He was hilarious and surprisingly heartfelt in just the right balance. I didn't get to see Kelli O'Hara (Tony-nominated for lead nurse Nellie Forbush), but her replacement, Laura Osnes, was more than servicable in the part. Turns out she made her Broadway debut a year or two ago in a revival of Grease, after winning a reality-tv competition on NBC that I have never, thankfully, heard of called "Grease: You're the One That I Want." (Maybe someone out there loved that show. Its very existence was news to me.) Regardless of her strange, circuitous journey to the part, I thought she was great in a role that could easily be annoying.

Honestly, I think I had only two criticisms of the show:

1) Poor Andrew Samonsky, playing the romantic lead, Lt. Joe Cable -- who falls in love with a beautiful, young native girl at the (creepy) urging of her mother "Bloody Mary" -- was in way over his head. As a hotshot pilot/behind-enemy-lines spy/Princeton grad, Mr. Samonsky strutted around the stage with a weird hitch in his walk, talked like Dirty Harry, and sang like Antony of Antony & The Johnsons. It felt like a lot of...well, false machismo to me. I don't like to speculate about such things (actually I love it), but it felt like the poor guy was trying way too hard to be a tough-guy stud, when really all he needed to be was a nice-looking guy who falls in love. Let's just say that when he sang lines like "gayer than laughter am I" the dramatic irony was nearly overpowering.

2) The show overall did a great job of walking the line between lush sentimentality and frank acknowledgement that the musical is a product of a very different time. After all, our hero, Nellie Forbush, is a self-described "hick from the sticks," and the play essentially hinges on her racism. Yet there were times the production pushed a darker angle where it was unwanted, or unneeded, or both. Songs like "Happy Talk" (which sounds pretty much as the title would suggest) are hard to push into darker psychological realms, but that didn't stop the production from trying. Like I say, I acknowledge the difficulty of presenting the show as written while still updating some of the more outdated aspects for today's audiences, but overall I thought the director, Bartlett Sher, did an excellent -- even an amazing -- job, keeping the core of the show unchanged and "updating" with an extremely light touch. Yet there were just a couple times that the darkness was incongruously pushed in where it didn't fit. I mean, I wouldn't want to portray native Pacific Islanders as simple/happy/childlike either, but can you really make "Happy Talk" a creepy song of forced seduction, or at worst, prostitution? That's a tough sell to me.

Overall, I really loved the show. Having heard the scratchy record of Mary Martin and Ezio Pinza in the original broadway production a million times growing up, it was wonderful to hear those great songs performed live, with a huge orchestra, in front of a rapturous audience! And to have the current performances stand up alongside those iconic, legendary ones is a pretty huge achievement. It felt like a dusting of good old-fashioned Broadway Magic -- the perfect intangible souvenier of my week in the city so nice, they named it twice.

Culturephiles Summer 2009 Movie Awards

While the summer movie season’s end is in sight, I thought it would be okay to rate this year’s crop of movies based on the six or seven I have seen. I humbly offer “The Culturephiles 2009 Summer Awards.”

Best Use of a "Dharma and Greg" alum - Mimi Kennedy, previously best known as "Jenna Elfman's Mother," is hilarious in "In the Loop" as a career politician whose quest to maneuver herself onto a top secret war committee is just as important as her quest to staunch her bleeding gums. I had no idea who she was and spent most of the movie trying to figure out who the If Glenn Close had played this role, it would be waaaaay over the top and probably be sparking talk of an Oscar nomination. As it is, I hope it alerts Christopher Guest as to how funny Mimi (my new best friend) is and she starts to give Catherine O'Hara a run for her money.

Worst Case of Child Care - I get that you didn't want to shoot another scene with an infant actor, Todd Phillips, and had to think of a way to get the newly discovered infant offscreen. But you mean to tell me those douches in "The Hangover" leave a baby BY HIMSELF in a car at HIGH NOON in LAS VEGAS and nobody says anything? Do the burning rays of the sun decide to take a break for ten minutes? At its worst, it displays lazy screenwriting. Couldn't they have just brought the baby in and passed him off to the chapel secretary? I myself would have written in parts for Catherine O'Hara and Mimi Kennedy as two conventioneers who give Ed Helms an earful for his terrible child care and then watch the baby in the air-conditioned office while he finds out that he married a stripper.

Best Supporting Actress - Evanna Lynch as Luna Lovegood in "Harry Potter and the Movie You Will Forget You Saw The Next Morning." I'm not even sure if she has an English accent, but Lynch was funny enough that she made me want to see her, Mimi Kennedy, and Catherine O'Hara in a caper comedy where they all play bumbling jewel thieves.

Runner Up - Margareta Levieva in "Adventureland," for her dancing scene alone.

Movie That Reminds You That You Might Not Be Cut Out for a Career in the Armed Forces - "The Hurt Locker." First of all, this movie is so fantastic and you have to see it in order to prove that America is culturally viable, but it also conclusively proved that I would last .8 seconds in OED. Is it because I lack attention to detail? Have poor hand-eye coordination? Have never drawn a bullseye on my stomach and told my buddy to punch me as hard as he could? I liked to distract myself from the film's tension by pondering all of these questions.

Movie that Reminds You Actions Have Consequences - The Hurt Locker.

Movie That Reminds You Actions Do Not Have Consequences - The Hangover. Are you anxious about getting back your family heirloom from the stripper you accidentally married? No problem, she's cool about giving it back, and even open to a date next week! Worried that your illegal scheme of card-counting will be detected the floor boss? Relax, he trips over your friends, and presumably takes so long to get up that you have time to cash 80 grand worth of chips. Annoyed that you misspent the 80 grand you just improbably won? Your sunburned buddy will find another 80 grand worth of chips in his pocket! Go Joe! Also, it should go without saying that if you leave a baby in a closet for several hours his diaper won't need to be changed, he won't need to be fed, and he'll never cry.

Some Summer(ish) Songs...for Your Summer Enjoyment

Trying to keep up with the rapid release of new music is impossible, so my Summer Jamz 09 typically have nothing whatsoever to do with summer, nor were most of them released in summer 09 I don't think. Regardless, below, enjoy some tunes I'm currently enjoying, as the mild Chicago breezes gently kiss our faces and make us worry that climate change is making everything on our poor planet topsy-turvy, and even if this Chicago-summer has been nice & mild & pleasant, surely the winter will be bone-pulverizing, and/or it will shortly drizzle weirdly for 9 weeks straight, and/or a plague of frogs will imminently erupt from dark black clouds. Regardless, enjoy these jamzzzz!!!!

Pete Yorn's recent album, Back & Fourth, underwhelmed (as have all Pete Yorn albums with the exception of his nearly-perfect debut, musicforthemorningafter), but there are a couple of catchy tracks, like this one, which I can't embed, annoyingly. Oh, laws. The song is: "Social Development Dance" and it's a little precious, but still will get stuck in your head in a good way (mostly).

I'm a latecomer to this particular party, but Dan Tyminski's latest solo album, Wheels, is uniformly excellent. Tyminski is a big name in bluegrass, but if you aren't into bluegrass (and why aren't you?), he might be better known as the singing voice of George Clooney in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" or the guitarist in Alison Krauss' band, Union Station. However you discover Dan Tyminski, you should discover him, because he's great, and Wheels is a wonderful album.


This might be a legitimate contender for #1 Summer Jam(z), since it has been released in the summer, and is also an awesome jam. Grizzly Bear's recent album, Veckatimest is real good, if a bit uneven, but this track, "Two Weeks," is a HUGE standout:


Shooting off of the Grizzly Bear tree, there are all kind of great bands I am loving right now that I would generally put under the umbrella of "indiefolkpop," which is a "word" I just made up, and which only a German could love. Groups like Fleet Foxes, Band of Horses, and My Morning Jacket have all been discussed in some form by the Culturephiles before; a new addition to this loose, ever-growing pantheon is The Low Anthem, a band I am unashamed to admit I was introduced to by NPR's All Songs Considered. It may not be your "typical" summer jam (I am aware that I'm COMPLETELY abusing quotation marks right now), but it's haunting, beautiful, and unforgettable. And since it's summer right now, it qualifies as a Summer Jam.


Another indiefolkpop band I am loving right now -- thanks to Greg for the intro (Greg has an uncanny knack for introducing me to bands exactly one month before one of their songs becomes a Starbucks Pick of the Week) -- is Great Lake Swimmers. GLS is a great band with an awesome sound, and has further burrowed themselves into my heart by recording their most recent album -- Lost Channels -- in and around the 1,000 Islands, in upstate New York, along the St. Lawrence River. To say that the 1,000 Islands are near and dear to my heart is the understatement of the year. ANYway, while I like most everything the GLS do, I would argue that their second-to-last album, Ongiara, stands head-and-shoulders above all their other albums, before or since. The leadoff track from that album is currently on repeat in my brain no matter what I do:


And as a bonus, please also enjoy track two from the very same album. Enjoy these Summer Jamz, and feel free to contribute your own. We love comments! Don't hide your favorite Jamz, share them!!!