Inglourious Basterds

Dad: You know how you’ve been writing about Quentin Tarantino?

Me: Yes?

Dad: You know he used to work in a video store?

Me: Uh-huh.

Dad: And you used to work in a video store?

Me: Yeah.

Dad: Well there you go.

Well there I go. Once upon a time Quentin Tarantino worked in a video store – and so did I.

Today I write about pop culture, and Tarantino makes it.

There you go.

Tarantino’s latest film also begins "Once upon a time . . ." and as to be expected, reactions to his "movie movie universe" movie, Inglourious Basterds, are once again as mixed as his genre conventions.

Though I didn’t explicitly say so in my recent three part post here for Bitch exploring the question of feminism in Tarantino’s work, I’m a fan – a cautious, conscientious fan, who recognizes that his work is problematic on many levels. For me, the combination of the issues in his work, and the visceral pleasure of the movie experiences he creates, presents a conflict that is worth exploring. Additionally, and I think this is crucial to my experience and interpretation of his work, he is a movie-maker of, and pop culture influence on, my generation. Pulp Fiction is as much a marker in my life as Star Wars, Goonies, or Trainspotting, Wonder Woman, 90210, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Tarantino and I may not have grown up watching the same movies, regardless of our once-upon-a-time employ, but his work has led me to his influences, which in turn have furthered and enriched my relationship to popular culture.

So why didn’t I enjoy Inglourious Basterds?