Inglourious Basterds ★★★★★

i feel like "this is the face of jewish vengeance" while a jewish survivor's image is literally projected onto the flames/smoke of 35mm nitrate film and burning nazi bodies is still the mic drop of the century thus far. the most simultaneously gleeful and mournful tarantino has ever been regarding the tricky moral history of the screen and violence, and their relationship to one another; accessing real historical pain and rage (as well as the medium's use as a propaganda tool) as a means of righteous catharsis, summed up in the image of an american jew, heroically approaching the camera to the morricone score from The Big Gundown, carrying a baseball bat marked with the names of jewish victims and soon to be crushing the skulls and covered in the blood of nazis. it's an exhilarating, visceral theatrical experience not dissimilar from the reaction the nazis themselves have to watching Nation's Pride, which is obviously intentional but less, imo, as a simplistic moralizing contradiction than as a much thornier acknowledgement of the way cinema can be weaponized and how maybe we should be doing it too.


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