Vainglorious bastard...

Rating: 4/10 (29 December 2009)

Alfred Hitchcock had no third act for LIFEBOAT. It happens. It also happens that the unprecedented influx of "independent filmmakers" of just a couple of decades ago has given us some of the worst movies of all time. The reason, more often than not, seems to be Ego. Having read glowing review after glowing review, these Vainglorious Bastards have let it all go to their head(s). Has Kevin Smith lived up to the promise of CLERKS, or Robert Rodriguez the brilliance of EL MARIACHI? Tarantino's "breakthrough" moment (RESERVOIR DOGS) was much (much) less convincing than either CLERKS or EL MARIACHI, but his follow-up, the vastly overrated PULP FICTION, garnered him a fawning following. Believing he could do no wrong, he proceeded to crank out one borderline unwatchable movie after another. Which brings us to INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS. Forget the fact that it's an alternate reality version of History: what makes it one for the might-have-been-great-ones is Ego. Tarantino, convinced of his own Gifts, gives us totally forgettable dialogue- and at Great Length; over and over. Brad Pitt (as the "Apache" taking scalps) does the goofiest Goober accent this side of Alan Alda in THE MOONSHINE WAR- with a straight face, too, as if he were likewise convinced of his Gifts. His dog soldiers (or "ZOG soldiers," as our home-grown Arryan brothers might call them) are nigh indistinguishable from one another. As are the two females: I literally lost track of who was who, three and a half hours into this mess. It took me two tries to get through this one, but I did so knowing that I'll never have to slog through another Tarantino movie as long as I live.