Tarentino indulges himself at our expense

Rating: 1/10 (25 April 2010)

Whenever Quentin Tarantino feels the need to share his imagination with us, we get treated to a film. Sometimes it works, as in Pulp Fiction. Other times, as in Inglorious basterds, we wish he kept his fantasies to himself.
Without giving too much away, Tarantino has created a film where the survivor of her family's massacre at the hands of Nazis is an unsympathetic character. The title characters are unknown, mere bit players. As they enter the theatre we don;t really care if they will live or die.
We have the traditional Mexican stand-off, a staple of Tarantino when he is too lazy to be creative. A German war hero becomes smitten with the owner of the theatre, the survivor of the family tragedy. He tries to woo her, and when she tells him that she is not interested, for about the fourth time, he suddenly becomes aggressive and completely out of character....but at least out of character is better than no character at all, as the players in this movie drift in and out of dialogue without displaying any sense of who they are.
For a movie to run two and a half hours, one would think the characters would be well defined and make us care about them. One wonders just what the hell Tarantino spent his time on...endless chatter that amounted to one third of the film's plot, repeated ad nauseum in three languages.