because it is deliberately vulgar and tasteless, the movie must somehow be supposed to have disarmed criticism. Sophisticated critics are allowed only to animadvert upon inadvertent tastelessness.
This is the ticket that Mr. Tarantino has used to ride to the very heights of auteurish movie-making in America, though admittedly these are not very high heights. His band of Inglorious Bastards, like him, glory in their ingloriousness -- as well as in their illiteracy, ignorance and brutality. That is the point of the movie which, like Pulp Fiction, is named for what Mr. Tarantino takes to be at once its happy vulgarity and its immunity from criticism.
This is also priceless:
It's all fake and contrived, a comic book that glories in its untruth to life. That the premiere in Nashville of this phony movie should have been hosted by Al Gore, the world's biggest phony, is no more than appropriate.
More here:
Tarantino's Band of Bastards
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