Leisure
The path of a filmmaker’s career can often take twists and turns, at times making critics out of former fans. For Quentin Tarantino, such defectors are largely confounded by his most recent film’s compulsive dips into farcical comedy. How, they inquire, could the genius behind two ‘90s masterpieces create a movie as incoherent and painfully self-indulgent as Inglourious Basterds? Either the auteur is criminally misunderstood or his trademark obsession with violence and pop culture references has enervated audiences’ tolerance for the absurd. Tarantino apologists point to the former; the absurd is what they crave most. And they are right.
By
Mark James
December 6, 2012