Hey everyone. Capone in Chicago here.

My greatest regret going into writing this review is that I've only seen this film once so far, at Comic-Con about three weeks ago. While writer-director Quentin Tarantino has certainly crafted films that almost demanded that you see them two, three, four times before you really soak in all of their nuances, his latest, INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS, is a beast of an entirely different nature. And seeing twice before even legally being allowed to discuss it seems necessary. So I guess I'm breaking the law, but here goes.

Basterds feels like the film that Tarantino has been building steam toward his entire career, which I guess goes without saying since it is his latest work. But I'm talking about something different. I don't think Tarantino could have made a film with this scope and level of sophistication without having gone through some of the finest trail-and-error exercises a filmmaker in the modern age has ever gone through. There's a patience and elegance to BASTERDS that I simply wasn't prepared for. Sure, the blood flows like a geyser at times, but not nearly as much as I thought it would, which makes the film infinitely better. You are actually able to settle down with the movie's many American, German, and British characters, and get comfortable in their presence by simply listening to them chat and interact with each other. Then, when the violence begins, it breaks the serenity and lets hell rush out until it consumes you. Not to be overly dramatic or anything, but that's really what it felt like.

The thing I've always noticed about Tarantino films is that they can either make you feel really smart or mildly stupid, depending on your ability to recognize all of the thematic, dialogue, music, costume, and other cues from films and TV shows that clearly meant a lot to him during his formative years. It's like a geek scavenger hunt, and I'll admit, I get lost searching for clues on occasion. But INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS might have been the easiest for me to spot such reference points--from THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY lift that serves as BASTERDS ' opening episode to the spirit-lifting use of the least/most likely David Bowie songs ever used in a film to the thoroughly engaging discussions of wartime German cinema.

I'm managed to go three paragraphs deep into this review without mentioning a single performance. Tarantino knows who his secret weapons are as far as actors go, and he gives them to us right off the bat. No, they aren't Brad Pitt or Mike Meyers or Eli Roth (although this is Roth's best work as an actor) or Diane Kruger or any other names you might know. Instead, two of the first faces we see are those of Christoph Waltz as Nazi Col. Hans Landa, known in occupied France as the Jew Hunter. The man almost always has a smile on his face, and when he doesn't, your blood freezes. It's simply one of the greatest performances 2009 has seen, and when Waltz appears on screen, you know that something quite awesome and brilliant is about to occur. The other face for the ages is Melanie Laurent, who plays Shosanna Dreyfus, a young Jewish woman who witnesses her entire family get murdered at the guns of Landa's men. She manages to escape to the city and open up a cinema, where, as fate would have it, the Nazis are planning a big premiere of a major film whose guest list will include the highest-ranking officers in the Nazi party, perhaps even Hitler himself.

What you have to realize going into INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS is that Tarantino has taken to heart the idea that the winners get to write/rewrite the history books. And while the film does include many real-life historical figures, Tarantino sees them as characters whose lives are solely in his hands. Which brings us to the Basterds themselves, a group of Jewish-American soldiers recruited by Lt. Aldo Raine (Pitt), who purpose into plan missions that will result in the most Nazi deaths. They also collect the scalps of their victims (an act Tarantino relishes in showing us more than once), and soon the group becomes the most feared figures among German soldiers. The group also includes a former Nazi or two who have turned on their kind and become some of the most ferocious of the group. But few are as ferocious as the Bear Jew (Roth), whose preferred weapon of killing is a baseball bat (juiced up by a healthy Boston accent).

The Basterds team up with the English army and an extremely famous and desired German actress (played by the wonderful Diane Kruger), who has been given word about the film premiere. All agree this would be an excellent opportunity to deal a heavy blow to the leadership of the Third Reich. The plan is perfect, but of course the Basterds have no idea about Shosanna, who discovers the murderer of her family will be one of the event's primary organizers, and sets about setting up her own plan for vengeance. The entire film is one, long, perfectly paced and executed build up to one of the most spectacular cinematic climaxes in recent memory.

INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS is as much Tarantino's take on the war epic, as it is his greatest fantasy film. The story exists in its own reality, and that's all I'm saying about that. When I think back on the complexities, coincidences, and crossed paths, I can't help but smile at how ludicrous it all is. But it doesn't feel that way while you're watching. It all makes perfect, logical sense. You almost can't believe your good fortune the way everything seems to be lining up so perfectly...before it doesn't.

I haven't said much about the American performers in this movie. Pitt's stylized Southern accent is a little hard to place, but I think that's intentional. He is simply a cold-blooded red neck, who has an unexplained lynching scar around his neck and a wily smile on his lips when he talks about killing. He and the Basterds don't take up nearly as much screen time as you might presuppose, but I didn't mind that. There are plenty of wildly interesting stories being told that you don't miss one when it's absent from the screen for a half an hour. And that brings up another point that some of you might hear about and get scared learning: there is a shitload of talking in this movie. And I don't mean talking leading up to killing (there's that too, don't get me wrong). There are entire scenes that go on for what seemed like 20 minutes, and all everyone in the scene is doing is chatting or negotiating or explaining, you know, talking. If it were any other writing, this would be suicide. But Tarantino knows exactly what he's doing, and he shows a well-founded confidence in his exceptional screenplay to let as much of it get on the screen as possible.

The nuances are many and they are spectacular, the performances will be remembered when the year is closing out, even the look of the film pops more than any previous Tarantino work to date (cinematographer Robert Richardson work in making Basterds look like a period film made in the 1960s is flawless). It's really tough for me to wrap my brain around the thought that there are people in the world that won't like this movie. I guess that's true for just about every movie I like, but for this film, it seems especially appropriate. There are no dead pockets; every second is crucial. If anything, the film's 2.5-hour running time seems not nearly long enough. If Tarantino doesn't expand this movie on DVD, I'll be royalty pissed. I respect the sanctity of the theatrical release of any movie, but this film cries out for more details without lacking a thing. INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS is Quentin Tarantino's wholly satisfying symphony, with each instrument carefully moving in and out of the work to perfection. It goes without saying that I'll be one of the first in line Friday morning to check this film out one more time, and my body aches with anticipation for that day.

-- Capone
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